People Share Their Vengeful Stories Of Retaliation

Retaliation sounds like a big, bad word. I’ll admit it, when I think of someone retaliating on another person, I think of them striking back hard, like nearly crossing legal boundaries type of hard. But, really, revenge comes in all different shapes and sizes.

Honestly, I think one of my favorite types of retaliation is the type that’s petty. Even if someone did something completely unfair to you, it’s always fun getting back at them in a manner that’s just a little inconvenient, annoying, or upsetting, just enough to say, “Hey, you can’t mess with me.” Think of petty revenge kind of like a warning or as a lead-up to a bigger consequence. And, hey, typically petty revenge isn’t unethical, cruel, or illegal, so that’s something to be merry about.

Indulge in some small acts of retaliation below.

20. Limit My Food Expenses? I’ll Make Sure To Hit The Limit Daily

“So I am a business consultant, and usually during the week we are at client site and get paid for travel, meals, etc. The meal reimbursement policy is quite flexible and doesn’t limit what we can claim, like some of the other consulting companies.

So we can claim lunch, booze, whatever. The policy, however, does lay down a GUIDANCE for a daily limit for food expenses, based on the country where you’re traveling. I capitalized the word GUIDANCE since that is exactly how it is written in the policy.

It is a guide, not a hard limit. For the UK, where my current project is, the limit is $40 per day, which is mostly ok but can be a bit low if you’re in the center of London for example.

Now I do Intermittent Fasting, so most of the days I don’t have breakfast and lunch, and just have one big meal a day, and have no problems keeping to the $40 (usually around $20). On some days, I might go to a fancy restaurant, have a couple of scotches with a steak, and run up a 60 bill. But during the course of a 5 day week, my average meals would run about $30 a day, if not less.

I’ve never had a problem claiming these expenses in my 9 years with the firm, but recently a new project manager (read: bean counter) came on board, and he sent back a couple of my expense reports for having meal expenses in excess of the $40 for a couple of days, even though the average meal expense over the week was much less than $40.

I tried to reason with him, told him that anyway, it was a guide and not a hard limit, and I was keeping the costs down on other days, he refused to budge and said I could only claim $40 a day for food.

So guess what, I started doing exactly that. Every day, I made sure I was claiming $40 or thereabouts for food. I started buying meals for the homeless people around the train station to make sure I could make up the $40.

So now, where I was claiming less than $150 a week for meals, I now claim $200 and get some good karma for it.” cricketrocks

Another User Comments:

“Went through the same thing a couple of years ago, but ours has limits on every meal per day.

For example: $15 for breakfast and $20 lunch and $30 dinner.

Most of the team we would usually skip breakfast and have cheap lunch on the go and have a nice dinner. So, depending on where you were at, it wouldn’t be shocking to see something like this:

Breakfast $0 Lunch $7 Dinner $45

We all got slapped on the wrist pretty hard a couple of months in the row. So we all started maxing every meal, even it meant spending a little over and paying out of pocket and even maxing breakfast at gas stations on road snacks.

After a little while, the rules were updated to give us a soft day limit for meals.” detection23

19. Be Snide Towards Me? I’ll Outshine You At Your Bridal Shower

Sometimes amping up your appearance is the best revenge.

“Back in my late twenties, I had several friends that I’d met online in my late teens. Occasionally, I would go visit some of them, or we’d all get together for a road trip to an amusement park somewhere. All of these online friends were guys, including this one guy named John.

This is important because, well, I’m not a guy.

John and I had developed a close, platonic friendship over the years we’d known each other. He lived closer than my family, so I visited his family on some holidays, and I was close with them as well for many years. Whenever I visited, John would insist on doing maintenance on my car, particularly in the early years, because I was flat out broke, and he discovered I didn’t change my oil nearly as regularly as someone should.

It’s not really important to this particular story, but John was always looking out for me.

As often happens, John met a woman online in the same game where he and I met. She was also long-distance, but they got together, hit it off, and within a couple of months, they surprised people by announcing their engagement quickly. I thought it was great. I knew John wanted to raise a big family, and he had found someone he cared about.

A group of us got together to go meet her, and things fell a little flat. She was … not an attractive person in any way, especially toward me. To most of our friends, she was just quiet and sullen. But me? She REALLY did not like me, and it was instantly obvious to everyone except John. I wasn’t too concerned because I’d stopped going to John’s house for holidays a year or so earlier when I started seeing someone.

I really only saw him in the game by then anyway.

Because I was the only woman in this particular friend group, I was invited to “Emma’s” bridal shower. I thought maybe she didn’t mind me so much after all. Maybe I’d misinterpreted her attitude. Since it was a chance to go see her again and see John and his family, I decided to attend.

It was being hosted by John’s sister, and it was going to be what I thought was a fairly casual affair: a spring picnic sort of theme with the venue being his sister’s garage and backyard.

Before my road trip, I bought a nice pair of khaki capri pants, a flowery shirt, and some nice sandals to wear.

Now, I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of woman. I hate wearing dresses or getting dressed up. I don’t wear makeup unless I’m going to a ceremony or something like that. So, I figured this would be a nice, spring-casual look that wasn’t too showy.

I decided to stop by John’s sister’s house first before checking in to my hotel to see if I could help set up.

His sister was happy to see me, but as soon as Emma saw me, her face twisted into a slight sneer, and she said, “Are you wearing that to the shower?” as she looked me up and down judgmentally. I said I was planning to and asked her if it was inappropriate. She sniffed, “Well, I think you really ought to be wearing a dress. It IS a wedding shower after all.”

A wedding shower being thrown in a ******* garage in the suburbs of Detroit, but go on…

I didn’t make a scene.

I just said, “Okay, well, I made sure to get here early in case you all needed help or I wasn’t dressed right. So, I’ll go find something nicer, no problem.” I had about 4-5 hours to kill before the party started, so I went to a nearby mall.

While there, I found an adorable spring sundress with flowers on it and a matching embroidered denim jacket. I normally hate dresses, but this one, it was pretty cool and was something that surprisingly I looked forward to wearing.

And I looked pretty d*mn good in it. I had to admit that. And it matched my sandals!

That’s when my idea for the perfect petty revenge hit.

I didn’t have much makeup to my name. I was always meaning to buy some, but I never did because whenever I put on makeup, I didn’t do a great job of it. So, I decided to go to the Neiman Marcus makeup counter where I had heard they would do a FREE makeover with professionally applied makeup if you purchased something.

I had plenty of time, so I went for it!

I told the woman at the counter I wanted a “natural look” because I never wore makeup, and d*mn, if she didn’t do the best job ever of applying makeup that looked great but not obvious. I felt like a million bucks once I saw what she’d done in the mirror. I bought the shade of lipstick that she had used, and I was on my way.

Then I went to check into my hotel room. Once checked in, I pulled out my straightening iron, smoothing out the kinks and cowlicks in my hair, getting all the flyaways under control, everything. I usually half-a**ed it with my flat iron, but this time, I actually used the hair clips to section off my hair and do it right for a more professional look.

I went back to John’s sister’s house just in time for the party to start.

Emma’s jaw hit the floor when I walked into the garage. I smiled broadly at her and said, “Thanks for the suggestion. I had fun shopping! I hope this is a little more appropriate. I never know what to wear to these things.” She mumbled something and walked off.

John’s sister came up to me and complimented me on my dress and my hair. I said, “Well, Emma thought I was ‘underdressed’ earlier in my capris, so I had to fix that.” Not being a big fan of Emma herself, she cackled and whispered, “You are evil!”

The fun had only yet begun.

John’s grandmother showed up with her walker. I’d only met her once years and years earlier at Thanksgiving, so I knew her, but she didn’t recognize me. She wore hearing aids and was a loud woman. As she approached I gave her a big smile, and she yelled in a voice that could be heard throughout the garage and lawn, “Oh, you’re so BEAUTIFUL! You must be the bride!!” as she came to hug me. I chuckled and said, “No, Mimi.

I’m Speedycat. We met a few years ago at Thanksgiving. I’m just John’s friend. Emma’s the bride; she’s right here,” gesturing over to Emma about two feet from me, giving me a look that would melt an iceberg.

A couple more guests incorrectly assumed I was the bride that night because I was dressed so nicely, and Emma … was Emma. I made sure each time to take the guest over to Emma and gush over her being the bride as I introduced them.

Emma never spoke to me again after that night. Not even at their wedding. I made sure to dress up really nice for that and smile BIG for all our group pictures together too.

John quickly dropped out of this group of friends once he got married. I guess she didn’t want him hanging out with anyone she didn’t approve of. We all knew it was coming… It was only a matter of time.” speedycat2014

18. Keep Blasting Your Music? I’ll Take Over Your Bluetooth

Gotta love good ol’ Bluetooth!

“I live in a medium-sized apartment that has 3 floors.

It’s not the best condition but could be worse. And the floors are blocking sound constantly, so no one can hear us talking.

So I heard some people move into the apartment right behind us. Cool! I won’t make noise to disturb them. Until I heard from my mother that he would play loud music while I was in school.

I was so naive, I didn’t believe her. Until one day I was home alone. I was playing some games on my iPad, and I heard it.

This speaker is so loud. It shook objects on my side, and I was so p*ssed. I grabbed my 30 lb lift and slammed it to the ground for him to shut the music or lower it. He didn’t hear it. I was more p*ssed and made a noise like stomping until I went back on my phone or he turned it off. He did this every day for months.

I HAD ENOUGH OF HIS PLAYS. I knew the next-door residents were blasted more because they’re next to each other, and something had to be done.

I caught notice that a ding would sound after Bluetooth before playing music, and I knew to be prepared, but that’s irrelevant.

One day, I was in my Bluetooth settings and found a Bluetooth speaker. Being the naive kid I am, I connected my iPad to the speaker.

Ding.

The bear is back.

I knew I now held the power to blast music. They were away, so I blasted music like the Monster’s Inc. and checked the powerful music. This thing was so loud.

So, I used it to my advantage. Oops, I had an automatic Bluetooth connection and accidentally connected one of my loud videos.

I was watching a video! I didn’t think much of it until later on. They were home one day, and they heard a satisfying ding and blast music. I think they got scared because they turned the speaker off.

I knew Bluetooth could be intercepted, so I used this against them. They were playing loud music one day, or arguing, and then I intercepted their connection and started chipping their life.

My mom had tried to cope with him physically, and that didn’t work. So I kept on doing it for months.

I think once they knew who it was because they started pounding on their ceiling, which I heard, but kept on hearing some good ol’ “Never Gonna Give You Up.” They were fed up but couldn’t stop it, or at least force me to stop it, because they know what they did. I kept on taunting them until some glorious magic happened.

From my mom, I heard they had legal document issues. They were forced to move country-wide! I was so happy, and for my last move, I tried breaking their speaker. I didn’t do anything (or at least I didn’t hear anything), but I hope they knew what was up.

They left the apartment a few months after the final taunt.” NCF29YT

17. Nearly Hit Me With Your Car And Throw Ice At Me? I’ll Tell Your Partner’s Mom

“So, I, 22F, was driving home from the grocery store a couple of weeks ago and was turning right on a very busy road.

The light was green for me and even had the green left signal, so I know nobody was in the right to have almost hit me. I get midway through my turn, and this red honda almost slammed right into my driver’s door. He ran the red light, and I instantly slammed on my brakes. My car is old and beat up as ***,* so it barely stopped and literally was smoking from the tires because of how abruptly I had to stop.

Normally, I honk my horn at ***** ******************drivers, but I was too shocked to even do anything. I had lost a friend to a nasty wreck years ago, and I immediately froze up thinking about what had happened.

Well, this lady in a red minivan was not too shocked and immediately began laying on her horn and screaming at the guy in the Honda, who got out of his car (we were all at a red light now, and I was still far behind him because I was honestly scared of his driving), and started pointing his hand in the form of a gun shape at this lady screaming, “I’ll f*cking kill you ****, swear to God” and said, “Get out of the ****** car,” etc.

I was completely horrified at this point.

While he was distracted, I did snap a pic of the license plate. He got back in the car and began driving right next to the lady screaming the whole time. She cut over two lanes and tried to turn right on another street, and I turned right behind her. I saw she had two small children in the backseat and wanted to follow her to let her know I had his plate number.

I didn’t even realize this guy was following both of us.

The lady and I both came to a WIDE two-lane stop sign, and she got ready to turn right, and I began telling her, “Hey! I have his plates!!” and out of ****** NOWHERE, this guy flies between us in the middle of the lane lines and chucked a full cup of ice at ME??? He then took off, and the lady flew after him. At that point, I was too scared to follow and turned right instead.

I pulled over and called the local police to let them know that there was a guy recklessly driving and threatening a woman and her children and that he had thrown ice at my head in traffic. They took all the info including the plates and let me know they’d be in contact.

One week later, I was at Burger King getting food on the same side of town, and I see the red Honda. I looked at the photo I had and knew it was the same one.

My car is very identifiable because of the stickers, so I got ready to just leave before he saw, and to my surprise, a middle-aged blonde woman got out of the car. I asked her if this was her car. It was. She said her name was on the title and asked why. I said, “Do you have a son? Because a young man with dark hair and a beard threw ice at me while chasing a woman and her children through traffic.” She said she didn’t have a son and started to walk away.

She instantly came back and asked if a younger girl with pink hair was with him, and I said yes. I remember them both screaming at the minivan lady. She came over to the car and asked if I had a license plate number, and I showed her. I also told her I had made a report because I was worried about the lady he was fighting with in the minivan.

Turns out, this is her daughter and her “lazy a**” partner.

She tells me that she only lets them drive the car in Harrison (the town she works) while she is working, so they can do DoordDash and pay for groceries at their house. They are both grown and live rent-free.

I told her where it happened, which was in a whole other town, and she began fuming. Going on about how she told her daughter not to let this guy drive that car, she’s told them not to smoke cigs in the car before, she’s found cig butts and blunts in her car, and the partner has actually wrecked before and hit somebody resulting in the mom having to deal with it because the car is in her name.

She tells me that was it for her. I asked what she meant, and she held up a finger to tell me to hold on and dialed a phone number. This lady started screaming her head off to her daughter telling her it’s time to pack her *** up and the partner’s and get the *** out of her house. She told them they had till 10 pm to be gone, or she’d be coming back with the same police I made a report to and that she knows they threw a McDonald’s cup of ice at somebody and almost hurt another woman and her children.

I was in complete shock. I apologized for having told the police since it’s her car, and she said she didn’t care and was glad I did and that she’d deal with it later. Moral of the story? Don’t drive your partner’s mom’s car without her permission, almost wreck, assault someone in traffic, and continue to recklessly drive.” thebridgexx

16. Break My Favorite Mug? I’ll Break Yours

“My partner and I lived in a shared house during my undergrad years and, for the most part, it was fine.

It wasn’t a student house as we had a dog but was instead housed a variety of people in different jobs/placements, etc. Anyways, all the housemates were fine enough, apart from the last couple. The vegan and her partner. Let’s call them Sarah and Larry.

Now when they came to view, Sarah did all the chatting, was super friendly, and made it seem like we had a lot in common, so it was agreed they’d move in.

At first, there was nothing wrong with them, and they kept to themselves, which was fine by me. I’d just started my MA, was working part-time, was doing a mentor program, and was in charge of running a society at the union, so I was super busy and super stressed a lot of the time.

However, it wasn’t long before Larry became the most annoying *** I’ve ever encountered (all this happened in a few short months as the landlord needed the property back for a family situation).

Sarah was annoying, but more in a whiny, preachy vegan kinda way. She mostly kept to herself when she was at home, so really wasn’t much of a bother. Larry, however…

– After a few weeks, my partner and I noticed they weren’t doing any cleaning, like at all, in the common areas. So, we put up a schedule that we’d used with previous housemates where there’d be a rotation on who cleaned where (mainly switching between who cleaned the bathroom or kitchen on a given week as we had separate living rooms).

Larry put a massive line through it and wrote something along the lines of, ‘Not doing this!’ across it. He refused to do any cleaning (Sarah worked; he didn’t… More on this later), so on top of everything else I was dealing with, I had to do more cleaning too. He and Sarah stored their bikes in the kitchen too and never once cleaned up the muck they dragged in on the wheels.

– Larry would turn the heating right up (we lived in the house together in early winter) and walked around in his underwear (tighty whities).

We tried to tell him our rent (one payment covered everything, but we kept the bills low, so this didn’t go up) would increase as our landlord had mentioned the electricity bill going up, but he ignored us and continued. And he made the house super warm. It was a big, airy house, so he obviously had the temperature right up all the time.

– Following on from that, as we had a dishwasher, any time Larry wanted to clean something up, he’d put it in the dishwasher and turn it on.

It didn’t matter how much else was in there; he’d put the dishwasher on. I’d often open it up as it finished to find a single item in there. His excuse was that he needed said item, so it needed to clean it. He never explained why he couldn’t just use the sink…

– Larry would answer all his phone calls on speaker. All of them. And he’d walk around the common areas having these phone calls.

He also talked as though he thought he was a gangsta. He was a lanky white boy with dreads who 100% grew up with a very middle-class family.

– I bake often, and I needed a set weight of caramels for a recipe. I brought them a little in advance as they were on sale, counted out how many I’d need, and put them away in our area of the kitchen. A few days later, more than half were missing.

Larry denied it, but he had wrappers in his pockets the next time he did washing. Not the worst food-stealing offence, I know, but very frustrating when I was literally halfway through baking and realized I was more than half my caramel short.

– Larry didn’t work. Or rather in the few months we lived together, he had perhaps 10 jobs? Each lasted a day or so, and it was obvious he lost them all due to his constant green plant smoking.

Yet, he still had plenty of money and was probably dealing ***** out of the house; we were just never able to catch him. This led to some really bizarre arguments with Sarah, not about the lack of job, but all the pointless *** he’d buy her that she didn’t want at all. Bikes, phones, telescopes… Every week, it was something new and equally unwanted.

– He tried to use an old satellite dish to get free cable (maybe if he didn’t keep buying Sarah pointless crap, he’d be able to afford it).

He pretty much had no idea what he was doing, almost electrocuted himself, and tried to run wires across our bedroom window to do this.

– Larry would often have friends over. Constantly, in fact. It was usually only one of two but often more. At Christmas, just after our landlord had informed us we’d have to move out (as I mentioned, family situation, she needed the house back), he and Sarah had a massive dinner party.

My partner and I were with family, and when we came back, we found they’d used all our plates/cups/cutlery, etc. as they didn’t have enough of their own. They loaded up all their stuff into the dishwasher and cleaned it but just left ours on the side. When we questioned Larry about it, he stated it was our stuff, so it was our responsibility to clean. How they couldn’t just put it in the dishwasher, I do not know.

– On one occasion, I didn’t take mine and my partner’s stuff out of the dishwasher right after it finished a cycle, so Larry decided to do it for me. He smashed my favorite mug, left it on the side for me to find, refused to apologies for breaking it (nor offer to replace it), and said it was my fault for putting it in the dishwasher (?). Apparently, he desperately needed to clean a plate and fork and needed to use the dishwasher.

Now, as I said, all this happened in a very short space of time. Just a few months. Plenty more happened, too.  I was just so busy at the time that dealing with it head on wasn’t an option, and Larry just gave no ****, so trying to talk with and reason with him got you nowhere. All of his *** was just adding a lot of stress onto my already very stressful life, and I needed to do something, just a little something, to make myself feel better.

I started by pouring saltwater into his house plants every time he p*ssed me off (often). He stupidly put them in a common area, and it wasn’t long before they died.

As my partner and I moved out way before Sarah and Larry (our landlord game us months of warning, but we moved out straight away as we didn’t want to leave it and risk not finding somewhere), I reported him for dealing ***** and for trying to illegally hook up cable.

Sadly, nothing came of this, but I also sent him a butt-load of annoying free catalogs and religious letters using a fake email, knowing he’d still be at the house for a few more weeks.

He kept sticking ‘West Ham’ stickers up all over the house as this was his team, and he felt that was his right. I pulled them down as quickly as he could put them up.

Speaking of West Ham, his West Ham cup was his favorite.

He used it EVERY day and was often one of the singular items he’d clean in the dishwasher. As my partner and I were moving into our new place, I took an opportunity to pinch it while he was out. Our new home (not a shared place, thankfully) was just down the road, and I was moving boxes down there that day, going back and forth. I took the cup with me and used a hammer to very carefully smash the cup in the exact same way mine had been smashed (handle off, big holes where it’d once been), and then I returned it to the dishwasher where I’d found it, the main part in the top and the handle down below the bottom rack, so it looked as though it had broken in the dishwasher.

I made sure to throw away a few smaller pieces that had broken away, so he couldn’t glue it back together.

I happened to be there when he returned and went to empty the dishwasher. The look on his face was priceless. He looked straight at me but didn’t say a word because he knew he couldn’t prove a d*mn thing. He had no chance for any revenge of his own; we were fully moved out by the next day.” AlansMonkeyTennis

15. Yell At Me Over An Invisible Mess? Enjoy The Mess On Your Lawn

Next time, don’t make something out of nothing.

“I think all dogs love walks, but my dog is kind of crazy. She’s a 50-lb border collie/Staffordshire terrier mix. She’s super hyper and quite strong in the chest, and I’ll admit my wife and I haven’t done the best job of training her. When we walk her she pulls like crazy, jumps all over the place… Basically, she thinks she has the control. I do what I can to keep her managed. But it’s exhausting, so I pick my battles.

(We got her a new harness since this story took place, so it has become easier.)

One thing I have decided not to fuss over during walks is where she does her business. I’m cleaning it up anyway so I figure it’s no big deal.

On this particular walk, she has already gone to the bathroom multiple times when she decides she has to poo again. However, because this is the fourth time, it’s pretty liquidy, and very little comes out, honestly, just a couple drops.

I decide it’s not worth trying to clean up because it’s just going to smear on the grass anyway.

Unfortunately, the neighbor who owns this lawn just happened to arrive home precisely at that moment, and all they see is my dog finishing what she’s doing and me ignoring it. So, from the driveway, the wife asks if I’m going to clean it up, and I try to explain that there isn’t anything to clean up. She was decently polite about it, so I felt a little bad on her account over what happened next.

So, the husband hears me “arguing” with his wife and decides he’s not going to have any of that. He’s old enough to be a grandfather but still kind of an alpha. He can’t be shown up in front of the wife. Maybe retired military; we get a lot of them in our neighborhood. So, he starts shouting at me from about 25 feet away about how ‘kids these days don’t have any ****** respect’ (I’m in my 30s but look young), and ‘How would you like it if I came and *** in your yard?’ (I told him if it was as small as this mess, I probably wouldn’t even notice; I don’t think he liked that answer.)

Every time I tried to explain the situation, he just starts shouting over me, and of course, I’m also being yanked a bit by the dog, and I’m just getting more and more frustrated about not being listened to.

Finally, I’ve had enough and shout, “Sir, come over here!” “What?” “Just come over here.”

So, he comes over and I ask, “Can you even point out the problem?”

So, he scans the area and finally sees the couple drops, and his face starts to turn red, and before he can respond I say, “Let me take care of it for you.” And with a flourish, I pull out a bag and start attempting to bag the milliliter of runny poo.

I really make a show of it, so the wife can see also. As expected, it just smears. I *may* have been a little more thorough in my attempts than was necessary… It smeared even further than I thought it could.

I tied up the bag, which was practically empty, held it up, and looked him in the eye. He had shut up by that point, so I just left.

But the smearing was just the beginning. Here’s where I really got petty about it…

For the next week or so, whenever I walked my dog, I would MAKE SURE to bring her to that neighbor’s lawn to do her business.

And of course, I wouldn’t clean it up. Any other neighbor I would clean up for but not him. In fact, if she had to go before we reached his house, I would bag it and then dump it on his lawn as we walked past. I was determined to make enough of a mess to warrant the tongue-lashing he’d given me.

Surprisingly, I never heard a word about it.” groza528

14. Accuse Our Dying Grandfather Of A Serious Crime? I’ll Misspell Your Name In His Obituary

“Let’s just preface this story by saying I do not necessarily condone my actions, but I definitely do NOT regret them.

This was a couple of years back. My grandfather was pretty sick with cancer, and it had gotten to the stage where there wasn’t much more they could do for him. He was put into hospice care at his home that he shared with my grandmother, and they had ’round the clock nurse aids there. They said he most likely had a few months at best.

It was a sad time for our entire family. My grandfather was only 70, so still quite young, and as most cancer stories go, it was unfair (this is my mother’s father by the way).

So, my mom and her 3 siblings (2 sisters and 1 brother) were helping my grandma try to cope with everything and help make my grandfather’s last months as good as possible.

In step: eldest cousin and aunt. Out of all our family members, they had been the least helpful and supportive so far. They’d always been quite odd compared to the rest of the family. Drama surrounded them wherever they went.

One day, my cousin goes over to my grandmother’s house (he’s 27 years old and has never worked a day in his life).

My grandmother knows he’s low on cash, so she insists that he please take some money from her as he’s going out with his friends later that night. My cousin agrees and takes the last of the cash out of my grandmother’s wallet. He then asks to speak to my grandfather alone. My grandma thought he just wanted to say goodbyes or spend quality time with him, so she stepped out.

My cousin turned and looked at my dying grandfather and accused him of ******** assaulting him when he was a baby.

Now, guys, I could give you all the reasons in the world why this is NOT true. Besides the fact that this was the third person he had accused of ****** assault (all of which were proven false) or the fact that he’d been taken to court for defamation charges after trying to do the same thing to his step-dad (now divorced) or how it was strongly advised he do therapy and has ignored it, but all you need to know is that it was bull ****** ***.

He and his mom turned against our family when we came out in support of my grandfather and told my cousin he needed to get help. He made my grandfather’s last few months miserable, and my grandfather was the nicest person on the planet.

When my grandfather did inevitability pass away soon after, my aunt got wind of it, and she and my cousin wrote my grandmother a 25-page letter saying how happy they were that he was dead.

It destroyed her.

Funeral arrangements were being made, and I was in charge of dealing with the obituary. I asked my grandmother if she wanted me to include my cousin and aunt in it. She said she did; it felt wrong to leave them out.

I thought differently but decided I’d respect her wishes… sort of.

When I told the person the names of the family members to be listed in the obituary, I told them my eldest cousin named Lee had a different spelling to his name that needed to be changed.

I told the writer that instead of spelling his name as Lee, he needed to spell it as Lie.

And so he did.” Sammydog6387

13. Use The Parking Lot As A Playground? I’ll Trash Your Toys

“A year or two ago, there was a group of young teens that loved to play street hockey in our court.

This is a townhome complex with shared parking spaces. My home is at the end of the ‘overflow’ parking, which leaves me many spaces to choose from.

With the lot in this area being so empty, it is an optimal place to play street hockey and set up a net. Perfectly acceptable, I loved doing these things when I was a kid, but be respectful of other people’s homes and cars.

My partner was tired of walking out every morning to hockey sticks and the net behind her car each morning leaving for work. Also, their gear (skates, gloves, pucks) would be in our yard.

After asking the kids to pick up after themselves to no avail, I spoke with the parents. ‘The parking lot is my kid’s backyard, as far as I’m concerned,’ was the father’s response to me bringing it to his attention.

Instead of reporting to the HOA, I decided petty revenge was more my liking. Late one night, after they left their equipment out again behind her car, I picked up their skateboard ramps, gloves, balls, pucks and net and placed them in my shed.

I then took them to the landfill the next morning. The hockey sticks and skates needed to send another message.

I took note of the car the father drove and noticed he always backed in. Given the time he left in the morning was still dark outside, I placed the hockey sticks and skates in front of his tires, out of sight. The next morning after I did this part, I noticed the sticks were not there.

(He did run over them, as splinters and plastic were on the pavement.) The skates were also missing.

Whether it was a lesson to the father or the kids (or both) is not my concern. They were out of money and materials. Since that day, there has been no equipment behind her car.” Prospect212

12. Keep Stealing Food? You’re Not Going To Like This Next One

“Just a little petty story of mine. So, some context. I have this weird thing where I’m very protective of my food.

I mean to the point that I won’t share a tub of popcorn when on a date. Maybe it’s a touch of OCD, I dunno. You don’t even have to eat anything from it; the moment you touch it… I don’t want it anymore. Keep that in mind.

So at the time this little revenge took place, I was working as a head cashier for one of those big-box building materials companies. That meant I was working on scheduling, figuring out who needed to work where, and working on paperwork in my spare time.

Typically, I didn’t take lunches as often or regular as the others and would usually just pick up something from a fast food place and put it in the company fridge with my name on it. Same went for my soda.

It didn’t take long though for me to notice that food was going missing. My lunch kept turning up opened… when it wasn’t when I brought it there, and my Cokes just kept going missing, sometimes even turning up still in the fridge but half empty.

I went to upper management about it, and while they did note that stealing food was a firing offense, I’d have to be able to prove it. Fine, you won’t help me; I’ll help myself.

So the plan was simple. I’d do something that I could be reasonably certain would cause the food thief to ‘out’ themselves. For this to work, though, no one could know what I was doing. Sure, it might get me in trouble afterward, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

Thing was, I kinda had a suspect in mind as to who was responsible, but I had to be sure.

The next day, I put my plan in order. I purchased a Chinese dinner from the local restaurant and then made sure to salt it, not to the point that it wasn’t edible, but it’d make someone seriously thirsty. This was placed in the fridge with my target (I’ll call him F) in the break room. I then took my soda and made a show of taking a light sip out of it before putting the cap back on and idly turning it over and around some before putting it in the fridge.

F was watching me the whole time.

With that done, I headed out to wait.

Not five minutes later, F comes running out, vomit all over his shirt, and his hands over his mouth as he heads into the bathroom. He’s projectile vomiting everywhere, trying to keep it in, and losing badly. Management is all over it, and between hurls, he chokes out that I put something in the Coke. So I’m called on the carpet to explain.

So, here’s what I told them. I knew F was stealing food but couldn’t prove it. So I set a trap for him. The food was too salty, and the coke he referenced had my name written all over the bottle. I hadn’t actually put anything in it at the start. Rather, I’d put it in the cap which I held in my hand. F hadn’t seen me do it, but I’d poured close to a teaspoon full of syrup of ipecac (you know what that is) in the cap.

Then I took a sip from the bottle, making it seem safe. When I put the cap back on, the little turning of the bottle was to make sure the syrup got mixed into the soda.

You can guess what happened after he ate the salty food.

He had to fully admit that he’d stolen my food and fully admit that he’d been doing it for quite some time. He was fired on the spot and got to spend a very sad day dry heaving and puking all over himself.

I was strongly admonished not to do something like that ever again, and if they found out that I had, then I too would be fired.

No food ever went missing again, though, so I consider that a win.” kibufox

11. Eat Somewhere Else? I’ll Eat In The Bathroom And Make You Feel Bad About It Later

“So about a year ago, in late June, I started working for a resort restaurant that also manages one of the main pools and pool bars next door.

I hadn’t worked in a restaurant environment beforehand, which my previous boss knew.

So a few weeks after I was hired, he started scheduling me to work by the pool bar, saying “it’d be an easy way for me to adjust to the job and learn new skills.” He ended up being right because I ended up learning how to be a server, just by helping out the guests lounging by the pool and the bartender(s) I worked with.

One of the bartenders was a lady named Kiki, who will be important later in the story.

Did I mention I worked outside? Let’s just say that I have crazy respect for those who work outside all day during the summer. It was always hot and humid where I worked, and we didn’t have many methods of staying cool. I also wasn’t exactly adjusted to being on my feet eight hours a day, five days a week, so my legs and feet were in pain a lot of the time.

My shifts always started at 11 AM, with lunch rush starting about half an hour afterwards, right on the dot. Orders would fly into the bar and out to their tables for nearly two hours, finally slowing to a stop at around 2 PM. I’d always choose to take my lunch break (which I’m allowed to do) at this time inside the building because I’m irritable in many ways and need to recharge.

At the resort I work at, there isn’t really such a thing as a “break room.” If employees want to eat, their only options are either to eat at their stations/offices, eat at whatever fast food place they had time to go to, or eat at the employee lunchroom at the back of the main building.

The bar didn’t really have a place to eat where you weren’t in the way or seen by customers, so I’d always choose to eat in the lunchroom. It offered free food for the staff, a place to sit, and AC: all of which I desperately needed during my break. So whenever I finished dealing with the lunch rush at the pool (which normally ended around 2 PM), I’d go to the lunchroom, make a plate, and sit down eating and watching videos until my break was over.

Well, one day, that suddenly changed.

I came to the lunchroom a little later than usual one day, and the room was vacant aside from a few ladies cleaning the floors and tables. One of the ladies, who I’ll call Lunch Lady, noticed me appear in the doorway, and before I could say or do anything, she exclaimed, “I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re closed.”

I kind of jumped a little because it came as a surprise and apologized before kindly asking if I could still maybe eat there just for a few minutes.

She refused, repeating that “the lunchroom is closed, and I’m not allowed to let ANYONE in here until we reopen at 4 (it was 2 PM at the time),” and if I wanted to eat, I could make a plate and “take it to my office like everyone else does.” I shyly explained that I worked outside by the bar, that it’s difficult for me to eat outside (I get nauseous in the afternoon), and I don’t know where else I could go.

I asked again, even adding in that I’d clean up after myself and only need a few minutes. She refused again, said I should have come earlier, and then said I could sit at a table in the hallway if I really needed a place to eat. I politely declined, to which she responded, “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you eat here. You can eat anywhere else but here. If I made an exception for one person, I’d have to do it for everyone, and then I’d get in trouble.

Do you understand?”

I just quietly nodded and excused myself. I’m really not a confrontational person and would rather crawl under a rock than argue with someone. And at the time, she did say it was a rule, so what was I going to do about it?

I ended up talking to a few of the servers I worked with, and one told a story about a confrontation she had with Lunch Lady the other day. She explained how she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to rest in the lunchroom for a moment just to calm down and relax but was completely denied by Lunch Lady.

She explained how she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and it’d only be for a moment, but Lunch Lady kept insisting it was against the rules, even when the server started tearing up. So, it was pretty clear I wasn’t going to argue. I didn’t think to talk to my bosses about it either because, in my mind, “they’d probably just tell me that they can’t do anything about it, and I should just go there earlier too.”

So I tried my best to get there on time, but due to the lunch rush, I wasn’t always so lucky.

Most times I was too late, but other times, even when I was on time, they’d kick us out right at 2 PM whether we were finished or not. I tried for WEEKS to get there at a decent time but wasn’t so lucky. So I thought, “Well, she said I could eat anywhere right?” I’ve seen employees eat wherever they wanted to, even in storage rooms, so I thought wherever I chose wouldn’t matter right?

So I found a comfy secluded wooden bench in the female employee bathroom.

To be more accurate though, it was the locker room the bench was in, but that locker room was connected to the bathroom, so everyone considered it to be the bathroom. I really didn’t care too much as long as not many people saw me, which during 2PM, was pretty common. Even when people did see me, no one asked. For the first few months I worked, I didn’t really talk to much of the staff outside my department, so most people who saw me ignored me.

I did this for about a month before someone finally noticed.

This is when Kiki appears in the story. Up to this point, I always felt somewhat intimidated by her because she always looked frustrated, and she didn’t look too patient with new hires. But after this, I started realizing that on the inside, she’s a kind of motherly woman who was only stressed out because of her job. Kiki was heading to the bathroom and was just passing by the bench I was sitting at before she noticed me, then the plate of food on my lap.

She stopped in her tracks and her expression turned from tired focus to a bizarre kind of confusion.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a quiet, confused voice.

“Eating lunch,” I replied casually.

“Why are you eating here? Why not eat in the lunchroom?”

I explained the conversation I had with Lunch Lady and what she told me. Kiki’s face got red. It was red already, but now it was visibly getting redder and redder like a sunburn slapped her face.

I noticed this along with the awkward silence and added that “I’m okay with this though! I’ve done it for a few weeks already.”

That wasn’t the best thing to say because she said, “No, this isn’t okay. Pick up your stuff, and we’re going to talk to this lady.”

I sheepishly did as I was told and just followed her. Lunch Lady was there, as she always was, cleaning up a dark lunchroom on her own, and we came around the corner.

Kiki started arguing with her about why she wouldn’t let one person into the lunchroom, why she wouldn’t even compromise, how the rules are crud, and then said, “Did you even know that this girl was eating in the bathroom for a month because you told her she couldn’t eat here?!” Lunch Lady’s face looked like a mixture of confusion, shock, and pity, but she kept explaining that “if I made one exception, I’d have to make more.”

Kiki then noticed two things.

The first was that the lunchroom was completely dark and almost empty aside from one lady in the corner, which was the second thing she noticed. No one was really lining up to get into the closed and dark lunchroom. The lady was on her phone but then started looking over at us as the conversation continued.

“What’s the problem with letting one person eat here for just thirty minutes? We’re both working outside, and we deserve some time inside, so why can’t you make an exception here? If cleaning is the issue then she (referring to me) can clean up after herself, she’s clearly old enough to know how to do it (22 at the time).

And you’ve already got one person in here already, so what’s the harm in one more?”

Lunch Lady was about to argue again until the lady in the corner chimed in.

“It’s okay, Lunch Lady, she’s free to sit in here and eat.”

So that’s what I did. I sat, ate, talked to the lady in the corner, cleaned, and left when I was done. The lady who was there turned out to be one of the managers of the resort, and she was very nice and warm to me.

The next day, I wasn’t turned away. Or the next day. Or the next week. I was never told to eat anywhere else again after that. Lunch Lady, who used to patrol the room long after it closed, wasn’t there as much anymore after that. She wasn’t fired, as I saw her much later, but I suspect management decided to adjust the rules. I didn’t need to go there after summer had ended and the pool bar closed, so I never found out how much had changed.

I still find it funny how I just followed the rules, not trying to be malicious, and ended up proving a point regardless. I’m a bit more comfortable with confrontation than I was before now.” KipsyCakes

Another User Comments:

“Here, I was hoping she found you eating in her air-conditioned office.” yParticle

10. Creep On My Little Sister? I’ll Catfish You

“So, for some background, (at the time) I lived with my mom and sister (breakups suck… also I paid rent and bills.

I swear I’m an adult.). I was 27, and my baby sister, who I will call Leah, was 18 in high school at the time. She is my favorite person in the world. Since my mom and late dad (rip) worked so much, I basically raised her. She may as well be my child. Needless to say, I’m SUPER protective.

I’ve encouraged her to meet boys (and girls; we’re both bi) because she’s so shy. Apparently, she took my advice and met a dude.

He came over at like 11 pm, and they were gonna go swim at our apartment pool. I walked her out to meet him (overprotective style) shook his hand, and he seemed nice. I let the kids be kids and went inside.

When it was approaching 12:15, I figured I’d go out there to check on them. I don’t wanna be a be bummer, but again, protective.

As I approach, Leah is getting out of the pool and grabbing her towel and phone, looking… off. He gets out after.

Me: Hey y’all, I don’t wanna spoil the mood, but it’s getting pretty late.

Dude: Aww nah, it’s cool. I was about to head out anyways. I’ll walk y’all to the door.

(Leah is silent through this whole thing. I can feel her anxiety.)

We get to the door, and as I shake his hand, Leah darts inside, directly to my room.

I bid him goodnight and rush into the room. My big sister senses were tingling. Something was WRONG.

I walk in to her crying quietly. I asked what was wrong…. She IMMEDIATELY crumbled into my arms, bawling. I squeezed her tightly and asked her what happened.

I won’t go into detail… but she was…. not touched nicely… at all. And she was a v-word.

After both of us crying and shaking, I asked if she wanted to press charges.

No. Ok, it’s all up to her, and I didn’t press her on it. It’s her choice. (I can’t testify for her.) I assured her it’s not her fault, she didn’t ask for it, she didn’t deserve it, and it’s okay that she didn’t fight back because she was scared.

I ran her a bubble bath, so she could relax and process and then asked her what the app was. She asked why, and I said don’t worry about it.

She told me, and as soon as I left the bathroom….. I downloaded that app.

So begins THE REVENGE.

I didn’t know how to shoehorn this in here, but my sister has a resting babyface. She may have been 18, but she looked 14. So did her best friend. When I texted her friend (I have all her close friends on Facebook, I’m the cool big sister), I explained the situation and asked if I could use her pics for a fake profile to catfish this MASSIVE jerk.

She enthusiastically said yes. I promised to delete everything after and let her know the outcome.

So I made a profile with her friend’s pictures and set “my” age to 16.

First of all…. OH MY GOD, the messages flooded in while I was looking for the dude. All from men 30-50 years old. SUPER GROSS. I eventually had to copy and paste a message saying:

“Hi! Sorry, my name isn’t Haley. I’m a 27-year-old woman named (ME), and I’m trying to find the guy on here that… inappropriately touched my little sister.

Sorry to waste your time” – which was usually greeted with backpedaling and wishing me good luck.

Again, just to emphasize, I put my age as SIXTEEN.

It took a while…. BUT I FOUND HIM. I messaged him first, with a basic, “Wyd” (I know young kid speak). He responded IMMEDIATELY. And this is only maybe an HOUR after he violated my sister.

I’ll spare you the back and forth, he’s a pretty boring person. The conversation was far from sparkling.

It took all of 5 minutes for him to suggest meeting up the next day to swim or maybe “just lay in bed and watch some Netflix ;)”.

And when I agreed and asked what time, he said 8 AM. A **** couldn’t even wait 24 hours. We’re on.

I wake up bright and early for our “date” get dressed, text him to make sure he’s there (he is, and “can’t wait to see that pretty smile”), and head over.

Thank God he lived close.

I find his apartment (keys in hand with pepper spray on it, just in case) and lightly knock on the door.

It’s worth mentioning….. This guy is 6’4 and pretty heavyset, and I am a 5’6 (on a good day), 125-pound girl. While I may be small, I have a certain…. presence…. when I’m angry.

When he opens the door?

Dude: I ****** knew it was you. (He invites me in, for some stupid reason.)

Me: Did ya?! Are you sure? Because best-case scenario for you was that you were gonna try to bang a 16-year-old.

Dude: Nah, no no no. We were gonna just chill. I swear.

Me: LIKE YOU DID LAST NIGHT WITH MY LITTLE SISTER?! You’re disgusting.

Dude: I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: Tell that bucket of BS to someone else. You didn’t spend all night hugging and rocking her while she cried and shook. You’re a living piece of garbage.

Dude: …… I mean… I’m sorry. I didn’t-

Me: SORRY MEANS NOTHING TO ME. You took something away from her that she can never get back.

If I EVER see you anywhere NEAR her again…. (insert threat that I would be obligated to do so I can’t post because premeditated things would add to my prison sentence)… understand?

Dude (visibly shrinking and meek): Yeah.. Ok…. I mean like…. Are you gonna…. involve the police?

Me: That’s up to Leah. I told her to; I’m pretty firm on it. But she’s still in shock, so I don’t know what to tell you. I guess you’ll have to wait and see.

Then I turned on my heel and slammed his door. The look on his face when I left was priceless.

Spoiler alert: She never did. Too scared to and I couldn’t force her. The guy is just moving on to another poor teenage girl, I assume. I can only hope my anger resonates in his head whenever he has the urge to…. force himself on someone.

I’m SUPER non-confrontational….. but if it’s someone I love, my anxiety has an override button.

I ain’t afraid to get in someone’s face (even if it means being sneaky and possibly going to jail).

My sister was both giddy and mad when I told her what I did. She wants him to burn in ****, so she’s happy I scared him…. but she was upset that I let him know how much it affected her. Kind of a power thing I guess. But how she puts it, “The good outweighs the bad.”  So…. sorry not sorry.” evenREPTARisnakey

9. Try To Freeze Our Family? You Can Join Us

“All of this happened when I was a baby, so this story has been relayed by my mom and dad.

It was January of 1986. Between my mom and dad, there were three children, all girls! My eldest sister was four, my middle sister was three, and I was about six months old. We were all living in Tennessee, and we were struggling financially with my dad making about 5 dollars an hour doing factory work and my mom waitressing. I know that people can raise a family on this, but this was a town of about four hundred people in rural Tennessee, so money was tight.

My dad was approached by my paternal grandfather who was living with his new wife in Central California. For the sake of the story, we’ll call her M. My grandfather invited my dad to come live with him and M for a little while and told him he could get him a job as a mechanic with the trucking company he drove for. The big sixteen wheelers were the kind he drove. He said the job paid 10 dollars which doesn’t sound like a great deal today, but in 1986, that was everything! My dad was a former army sergeant who didn’t receive a pension, but he did receive schooling to be a telecommunications engineer.

There just wasn’t a great need for them at the moment, and he was also a certified mechanic. My dad wanted to create a better world for his girls, so after cajoling my mom into accepting (she wasn’t keen), they packed up the car, said goodbye to his family, and made the trek to California.

I’ll give a little detail at the bottom, but the move overall was a bad idea. There ended up being no mechanic job, so my dad started work as a clerk in a gas station, and my mom stayed home with M and us girls.

M was nice at first but then started to get real nasty. My older sisters are from my mother’s first marriage, and M saw them as unwanted baggage. She would snap at them for “playing too loudly” and “having the light on too much.” Keep in mind, they are toddlers. Apparently, she was sweet to me because I was actually my father’s *****, and therefore, was acceptable.

After about a month of this, my mom told my dad it was time to leave because no one was going to treat any of her children like this.

My father loves both of my sisters and agreed but said they needed to save money to move back to Tennessee. Tax season was right around the corner, so my mom agreed that once the tax check arrived, they would be out of there.

Now what you’ve all been waiting for… Remember when I said M was stingy with the lights? She was also stingy with the heat. Let me tell you guys something; January in central California gets cold.

Because we all shared a room my dad and mom would sleep in a full-sized bed, my sisters slept in sleeping bags on the floor, and I slept in a playpen that doubled as a crib. M REFUSED to turn on the heat, so sometimes we all squished together on the bed just for warmth. My mom and dad begged M to turn on the heat for the sake of us girls. She flat out refused.

After a few nights of this, my dad had enough.

The Revenge

Remember when I said my dad was a telecom engineer? He was also very handy and crafty. A jack of all trades and a master of none as he says. M combated the cold with an electric heated blanket. That day while M was out my dad went into the heated element, removed the plastic casing, carefully disconnected a few wires, placed the casing back on, and put the blanket back.

It looked as it was before. That night M couldn’t get the blanket to work, and the heat was on in the house. My sisters were warm, and my dad didn’t have to share a bed with 3 squirmy girls. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but M was just awful, and my dad didn’t mind taking her down a peg without her knowing.

We ended up leaving a few weeks later for Florida where my dad got a job with a cable company where he could finally put his hard-earned skills to work.” Pumpkin_Kisses

8. Shove Your Beliefs Down Our Throats? Get An Adult Magazine

“When I first started working at the national bookstore chain they put me at the cashier.

One of the many things I had to learn was what adult magazines we kept under the counter. I have never seen a grown man blush so hard as when my boss had to go through and show me all the magazines we sold.

Technically he didn’t have to show them all to me one by one. He just turned so red at the mention of the ‘dirty magazines’ that I couldn’t help but play dumb and have him explain each one to me individually.

Anywho, about the time he was explaining Biker B******** (I’m not sure of the exact name, but think black leather, chrome, and ladies) the door dings as a customer walks in and my manager lets out a long groan.
Apparently, the frumpy looking woman who had just walked in the door was a trouble maker. Every month she would come in and buy the trashiest romance novels she could find in the bargain racks and try to use expired or fake competitor’s coupons to take 40-60% off the clearance price.

If the cashier refused (as they should) an argument would ensue. It always ended with a manager coming over and giving her a discount to get her to leave. That’s not why he groaned though. Before she starts shopping, she makes a point of approaching as many of our other customers as she can find and says something like this:
‘Did you know they sell pornography here?’ she would say with an indignant scowl, ‘If it wasn’t the only bookstore within walking distance I wouldn’t set foot in here, I can’t see how any GOOD Christian would!’ ‘Good’ would be emphasized in such a way as to imply that all other people in the store were the spawn of Satan.

My manager and I eavesdropped on one of her exchanges because he thought I didn’t believe him when he said how bad she was.

So here’s a lady that would buy books that make ******* blush and she was judging? When my boss and I got back to the register, he told me to give her what she wants, any discount, just get her out. He hurries away so as not to be caught, and I make a small purchase in anticipation of my interaction with her.

Shortly thereafter, she comes to the register with her cut-rate romances and slams them down. She squints up at me and says:
‘I can’t believe a good Christian boy like you would work in a place like this!’

‘What do you mean?’ I say.

‘They sell magazines here!’ She says waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

‘Yes ma’am, the magazines are at the back of the store, did you need help finding one?’ I say helpfully.

‘No, DIRTY magazines!’ She says wagging her finger in my face.

‘Yes, we have those too, which would you like?’ I say pulling out a stack of the raunchiest ones I could grab and putting them on the counter.

Her face blanches. ‘Put those away I don’t want them!’ I don’t know how she managed it but she seemed to whisper and yell this at the same time.

‘But I thought you…’ I say innocently as I put the offending material back below the counter.

‘Never mind what you thought,’ she says, ‘just ring up my books and here’s my coupon!’

‘Yes, ma’am not problem ma’am!’ I say as she hands me three books marked down to $3 with an expired Borders coupon for 40% off one book.

I ring her up. ‘That’ll be six dollars and twelve cents, is there anything else I can help you with today?’

‘Here,’ she says handing me her credit card, ‘and for heaven’s sake find yourself another job.’

I handed her the credit slip to sign. While she was preoccupied I slid her books and the copy of Biker B***hes I had purchased when my boss had walked off, into a plastic bag.

‘Have a great day!’ I said cheerfully.

She grabbed the bag and humphed out the door. As far as I know, she never came back.” Source

7. Nearly Hit Me With Your Golf Ball? I’ll Steal It

It hurts way worse when that golf ball is very expensive…

“I was out golfing today because, *** yeah, summer. I was on the green putting with my group. I was lining up to putt for birdie (a good score on a hole, one under par), when I hear a golf ball land close.

Very close. Like, three feet away close. That would have hurt, and the guy who hit it didn’t even yell ‘FORE’ (to warn other golfers that a small white projectile might be heading their way). The golf ball rolled down a small embankment and into a sand trap next to the green.

Whatever. *** happens. Then the guy shows up, decked head to toe in LaCoste gear, chewing a massive wad of gum and wearing jersey shore type sunglasses.

My buddy is about to putt, and this guy strolls up to the edge of the green and just yells out ‘EY. I HIT A BALL THIS WAY. WHERE IS IT?’ right in the middle of my friend’s backswing (a big no-no in golf etiquette). No apology, refusing to wait until the player playing has hit his shot, and demanding to know where his ball was. Like we’re gonna help you.

‘Yeah, it went into those trees over there.’ I say, pointing at a thick copse of trees about 40 yards to the right of where we’re standing.

Long grass, not a lot of room to move, and plenty of thistle bushes.

A**holio turns on his heel and stalks off towards the trees and starts rooting around in them for his ball. I hear the occasional ‘***!’ and ‘Ow!’ coming from his general direction, presumably when he jabs himself on some thistle.

While he’s rooting around in there, I casually stroll over to the bunker (sand trap) and pick up his ball. It’s a Titleist Pro V1 (the priciest golf ball you can find that skilled golfers use to play good and that ***y golfers use to look good).

I pocket the ball and proceed on my merry way to the joyous cacophony of cursing from the trees and thistle.

I used that ball for the rest of the round, and am debating keeping it for posterity’s sake.” Strange_Bedfellow

Another User Comments:

“Sort of similar story…

Was golfing with brother in law on a short par three. We had good first shots right on the green. Before we could make our first putt, the threesome behind us tee’d off, and the first guy’s ball landed a few feet from my brother in law.

He yelled back, “Wait.” They didn’t listen, and next guy tee’d off and landed pretty close. He yelled again to “hold the *** on.” The third guy didn’t listen and came within inches of hitting him.

Brother in law pocketed their balls, and we finished the hole. They got there just as I was about to make my putt. They asked where their balls were. My brother in law said he never seen them – obviously lyin,g and they knew it.

They just stared at us; we just stared right back. One of them ran over and grabbed my ball to check it, then dropped it a few feet from where it originally laid. We called them d*uchebags before moving on.

Next hole, they didn’t wait for the bell on a blind hole. We scooped up more of their balls. At the end of the day, we made a complaint to the marshall who told us they had already had a complaint that day, and that’s why they were skipped ahead of the people who were originally behind us.” ShaneL79

6. Think You Can Cheat On Me? Guess I’ll Give Away Your Dream Christmas Gift

“I’m a 28F now, but at the start of this… sh*tstorm… I was 16.

A junior in high school (let’s call me Lisa; it will be important later) with a baby sister, aged 5. She went to an after school program with the YMCA. Since my mom worked a lot, I usually signed her out and walked her home since we lived only a few blocks away.

The counselor for the YMCA was.. Chase (for anonymity’s sake). Super tall and handsome. Had a backward NE Patriots cap on. I’ve been a fan since I was 9 years old, and in my state, Pats fans are rare.

As I’m signing my name and waiting for my sister to stop playing, I complimented his hat. Long story short, we lived blocks away from each other, hit it off, and agreed to meet that night for movies at my place. He briefly mentioned an ex once or twice, but I thought nothing of it. Exes are part of you; sometimes they come up.

Within days, we were inseparable, and shortly after, official, which in 2006, HS years meant we were basically married.

About 2-3 months in, I kept getting messages on MySpace (yes…. make the jokes) from a girl named Cristy (name change, obviously). It detailed out the affair Chase was having with her, his ex. Keep in mind through this whole story, I’m SIXTEEN.

Mid-story twist:: HE WASN’T SINGLE WHEN WE GOT TOGETHER. He lied. (cue first red flag I missed)

I replied telling her I didn’t know and how sorry I was… I’m not a homewrecker. I asked what she thought we should do… to which she just hurled message after message of sl*t-shaming.

Confront Chase? “Oh, she’s a liar, and she’s just mad…. ignore it… I love you..” And so poor lil 16 yr old did.

Fast forward several months later… I was in PAIN … in my God d*mn Lady Garden. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Couldn’t pee, couldn’t sit… only pressure helped, which was awkward all around. Then I got the message….

Christy: Hey! It’s me! Hope you’re not feeling too terrible! It would suck if Chase cheated on you AGAIN, and you just happened to get the Chlamydia I gave him ;)”

THIS MOTHER *****.

Cheated on me again… noticed symptoms of the clap, GOT TREATED HIMSELF… but didn’t tell me. SO HE GOT IT RIGHT BACK.

He finally fessed up; we got tested and treated. Condoms only from there on out. Should I have left? **** YEAH. Did I? I was 16, almost 17. You tell me.

Months go by, and we’re nearing our 2-year mark. We’re both graduated and both have cars and jobs. The whole deal. I thought things were great.

Sometimes he’d mention hanging out with a girl named “Lisa” (yes, the same name as me) that we both knew. While I had reason to be jealous, I never have been the type to tell my SO who he can hang with.

Then… THE DAY.

I called him in the morning (it was a weekend) to see if he wanted to hang out. He sounded off. He barely had to say half a sentence before I knew what was happening, and I cut him off.

Me: If this is what you want to do.. do it to my face. Come over right now.

Mind you, this is early October, and I shop early for Christmas. He has a specific taste and odd body size, so I didn’t wanna wait till the last minute. He had A BUNCH of presents already bought for him, including a Nintendo Wii I preordered for him as soon as I could since I worked at Target, and the Wii was the first release, so I made sure I reserved one before they ran out… He was all but begging for someone to buy if for him.

So I did.

He showed up, and we sat outside. He explained that the “other” Lisa was good with kids (I was uncertain about having them but not 100% against it), seemed to have her life together more, and just basically wanted her more. I got up without a word, just a “wait right here” finger, and went inside to fetch his presents.

Me, sobbing quietly and angrily, throwing the wad of jeans and shirts at him: Here.

Merry ****** Christmas.

Chase, looking at each item: Wow… Thank you… You don’t have to-

Me: Who else am I gonna give a bunch of Beatles shirts and awkwardly sized jeans to? I didn’t keep the receipt. I also got you something else..

Chase, looking guilty as a bad dog, kinda perked up: Really? You know you don’t have to. I feel SO BAD for this whole thing….

Me, gaining composure, with a sullen smirk: No, just wait here. I’ll be right back….

I came back holding the Wii that he had been so excited about.

His eyes lit up like the NY skyline. He was so giddy to receive his dream present. I sat next to him holding it, telling him the whole story about me knowing he wanted it and that I reserved one in the first shipment just for him…

The look when his face fell was incredible when I told him I was giving it to my sister (who really had no interest in a Wii at all). You could tell he was deciding if he should bargain or not.

I stood up, walked away as calm as I could, and crumbled as I hit the front door. (Teenagers, am I right?)

A month later, he came crawling back saying other Lisa was such a nag, so mean, and he wanted me back. That’s what Cristy quoted to me prior.

Me: No, the buck stops here. Other Lisa knew about me, and you, and she did it anyway. I’m not continuing this. You made your bed. Now lie in it.

Epilogue: Years later, I found him on FB (being in a nosy mood). He never had one while we were together, but he got one. He got married to Other Lisa and had a kid. I left it at that. Somehow FB led a breadcrumb trail to me, and he friended me. Ever since (and I’m talking 11 years later), he keeps trying to poke at me anyway he can with CLEAR INTENTIONS of fooling around.

(Who texts their ex at 4 am to just “hang out and drive around?”No. GO HOME AND CUDDLE YO KIDS. I’m not furthering this weird ex cheating pattern.)

I could block him, yeah. I could tell his wife and his now THREE KIDS… but that’s not my problem anymore.

Does it make me a bad person to kinda enjoys his misery and desperation for what his life could’ve been? Maybe. Do I care? No.” evenREPTARisnakey

5. Harass My Mom At Midnight? Enjoy Random Booty Calls

“Me and my mom are social media introverts.

We will talk to our circle of people, but to post something on media with our name on it is a bit too much for our gentle selves. People are sometimes hateful on the internet, but here, with some privacy, I’ll post what I just did, and I enjoyed every bit of it. I have still kept a few things vague for my mom’s sake.

Backstory-

So first things first, I am Indian and live in India. The amount of people who catcall and shred your clothing with their eyes is astonishing.

Obviously good guys exist, but online, you generally find the worst kind. Asking for your phone number, trying to call, etc., the absolute worst.

Anyway, one night, my mom and I were chatting and a guy starts calling her. Video calling in the middle of the night.

My mom freaked out. I calmed her down. We blocked his number. But he tried two other numbers. We almost did not sleep all night, and my mom was really disturbed.

I tried finding who this guy was but only found out his name and the city he lives in, *insert big city name.*

The revenge-

I joined a few sites where you can meet a potential partner. I used my nickname and actual pics of me (I’m a girl) which I had not posted anywhere. So no reverse image searches.

And I began. There are many people who want to hook up and just wanna get your phone number and then harass you for nudes.

I matched with 75+ people in 12 hours flat (considering I was quite a bit picky about who I swiped right on). I talked to them. The usual hi, hello, where are you from, what brings to this app, etc.

Then, when they asked for my phone number, I gave them this guy’s number. Then when guys started complaining that I was giving them a dude’s number, I just gave them each other’s number saying it must be a cross-connection.

The poor dude from *insert big city name* was harassed with these calls and was going to get a new phone number.

How do I know that you ask? I matched with him online.”  ayushya_sukhiye

Another User Comments:

“You should make an ad on craigslist giving away a free goat and put his new phone number on it.” KatTheKonqueror

4. Honk At Me For No Reason? I’ll Slow My Pace

“My family sends me out to gather breakfast for them every morning from a nearby local fast food restaurant (it’s a cup of cooked grits topped with a scrambled egg and some sausage which is basically what we would eat at home anyways, along with iced tea.

Due to our busy schedules and being up extremely early, along with some dietary restrictions I have to tackle with for all other meals, having one meal I don’t have to cook at a time that even roosters are sleeping is a blessing), and to get to it, there is one 4-way stop with traffic lights.

I had just picked up the food, and I was in the turn lane waiting for the turn light to come up (I have to turn left so no turning on red).

I had turned my head to grab a straw from the passenger seat to put in my drink when suddenly, a LOUD continuous horn is blown at me.

Note, the light had been red, and the turn signal was not up when I turned my head to look at the straw. That means in the amount of maybe a second or 2, not even enough time to reach for said straw, I had someone blowing their horn at me.

Not a nice ‘toot-toot’ tap of the horn to alert me of the change, which I would have then waved as a thank you and gone on; no, a full-on, lay on the horn like it was a pillow, making it bugle loudly and continuously like a bull moose looking for love. Where I’m from, this is extremely rude.

I look up and saw only the turn signal had lit up, the main lights were still red, meaning he hit the horn the second the turn light appeared, and I didn’t shoot out like some greyhound chasing the robo-bunny on the dog-track.

Naturally irritated at this assault on my eardrums, I look at my rear-view mirror and find behind me the jockiest looking McJerkface yelling at me from his shiny silver and chromed truck, which was jacked up on too tall wheels, completing the look of  ‘I used too many steroids, and now my twig and berries have shriveled, and I need to compensate elsewhere.’ I’m a short girl in a small Ford Fusion from ’08; I’m not intimidating by any means.

But I’m a vindictive witch who has no problem being an absolute brat when I’m irritated. And it’s the buttcrack of dawn, and I haven’t gotten to have my morning tea; I’m cranky, hungry, and caffeine-deprived.

Cue my somewhat un-intentional revenge.

So in my natural, irritatingly bratty fashion, I decidedly putter along through the intersection (the traffic isn’t heavy as it’s so early in the morning, and I don’t have anyone behind me aside from this pumped up red-faced limp noodle screaming at me from behind his windshield, so I am not hindering anyone else as I pull my little stunt).

Of course, this mumpsimus, with his one brain cell bouncing about his skull like some enraged crested gecko, can’t stand how slow I’m turning, revs his engine, and tries to pass me IN THE INTERSECTION!!

For a second, my heart beating in my throat since that was terrifying as he almost sideswiped me trying to whip around me, thought that my revenge was over and pretty much thwarted (and thought a few choice curse words and insults to this psycho twitdiddle who could have easily killed me).

Then I heard it:

WOOP WOOP.

The Dr. Zoidberg-like scream of a cop car’s siren accompanied with the bright blue lights as a cop shot across the intersection past me (thankfully just barely missing me as I sat there half stunned). As I turned into the lane I had been going into, I rubbernecked as far my little neck let me without being dangerous as the cop pulled the guy over in front of me and got out of the car and clearly gave our Earthworm Jim-lookalike a **** of a talking to (I’m guessing).

I then turned into my neighborhood, cackling like a crazy woman at the insane coincidence of it all, as you RARELY see police around my area, and I hadn’t even noticed the cop in the first place.

I don’t know if he got a ticket, but I like to think he did, and while it started out as petty revenge, it became a karmic slap to the face for being a Jerky McJerkface.” 13thmaiden

3. Cheat On Me? I’ll Break Up With You On A High Mountain

“So I’ve (f20) been seeing this guy (m22) for a little over a year now, and it’s been nice even though we have our differences.

I love to work out (I mean I run up and down 14ers in my free time), and he’s always been sorta lazy and out of shape but is still easy on the eyes, so it’s never been an issue.

Recently, though, my partner was at a bar with some of our other mutual friends and coincidentally, and luckily, saw him out with the boys as he said he would be…but his ex was there with him along with some other girls.

She figured they just ran into each other; he’s never done anything suspicious before, but I guess I’ve been a bit too trusting. She said she just kinda looked over there occasionally but decided to text me when they were a liiiiittle too close.

I called him because, like, what the ****; he said he’d just be with the boys, and he said he’d be home when he got home and hung up. At this point, I realized that I hadn’t been paying much attention to his behavior (not him; we literally live together) being preoccupied with college & work and everything that I’ve brushed off fell into place, and I realized he was most definitely hooking up with his ex.

He always stayed out late, would ignore my texts and calls for hours, hung out with his “friends” but never invited me, and has always been ridiculously protective of his phone saying he wants to live his own life and it’s private, which I should’ve called him out on, but I’m way too naïve I guess. This was my first real relationship.

Anyways! He got home way late, like 3 am. I hadn’t heard anything from my friend or him but had been staying up plotting my revenge because a break up over this type of thing isn’t enough.

I demanded that he give me his phone, and when he refused, I straight up said, “Then pack your *** and leave.” He’s not in the contract, just been staying with me and my roommate and giving me rent since the pandemic started. I guess he didn’t realize I would actually say something like that. I’ve always been super gushy over him and basically tend to his every need, so clearly, I would never be the one to break us up.

He gave me his phone, and I didn’t know where to start but eventually found a messaging app I’ve never heard of, and sure enough, when I opened it, the first name to pop up was his ex. Turns out, they met almost every weekend for drinks or a restaurant and most definitely hooked up afterward as well as sent some pics to each other. I was p*ssed buuuuut already had some petty revenge planned.

He said the classic *** like, “I can be better.

I never meant to hurt you,” “I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but good to me,” and the infamous, “I can change.” I had been waiting for that, so I said, “Prove it. Come on my hike with me tomorrow. Show me that you can change your ways and do something I like for once.” I’m fairly manipulative, oops. I’ve been trying to hit a 14er (14,000ft+ mountain for those who don’t live in Colorado) a weekend since the season started and have been fairly successful only missing one week.

I had been planning to finally do Long’s Peak, but he would definitely not have made it to the top, so we did an easier one instead.

Hiking up, he was a ****, and we stopped about every thirty minutes for him, making it a very boring 8 hour trip to the top. He was definitely trying to be nicer and sweeter than he has been, but it was kind of just pathetic at that point. I already knew I’d never take back a cheater.

When we got to the top, he sat down immediately and drank the rest of his water despite me warning him he’d definitely need it for the hike down. I took some obligatory pictures since this was still one I’d never done before then gave him a kiss because, God d*mn, those lips still, and said, “We’re officially over,” then turned to start my jog down.

He was exhausted and couldn’t keep up for long once we hit the trail again, but he was saying a bunch of stuff that I mostly tuned out, but I heard him say, “Slow down.

You’re just gonna have to wait in the car, ****,” to which I said, “Just call a friend, or better yet, your ex.” sushi-_-lady

2. Screw My Partner Over? Hope You Like The Stench Of Rotting Meat

“I met my partner, Annie, a couple of years ago in 2018. During the fall of that year, she moved two hours away to participate in this “college” program that is hosted by a worldwide entertainment company that is primarily known for a certain mouse.

Despite the company’s size and net worth, they don’t pay their employees very well. Naturally, this endeavor didn’t do her any favors, but she enjoyed it.

When the program was close to ending, she began to look for a place to stay in my city. Thanks to her brother’s friend, Stephanie, she was able to find a place fairly quickly and moved in right away. She would, of course, be staying with Stephanie and another girl she knew, Sam.

The place was decent. It was clean, reasonably priced, she knew the girls she was staying with, and most importantly, it was close to my job at the time. I could get off work and be at her place in under 10 minutes. It was a great setup, and there were no red flags to speak of.

For a while things were great. I’d go to work, go see her on my way home, then leave. I was able to visit most days out of the week.

We would cook food or order take out, watch movies, etc. The best part of the deal was that Stephanie explicitly told Annie that she could stay as long as she wanted, given that rent wouldn’t be an issue.

Then Annie lost her job.

She was temporarily unable to pay rent, and she scrambled to find a job. After nearly a month, she was able to regain stability, and things were looking good again. Then Stephanie told her that she was going to have to be out in about a month.

Why? Well, let’s backtrack a bit. Stephanie started seeing a guy shortly after Annie moved in. He was over at the house a lot until he eventually was staying there all day every day. I’m fairly certain he wasn’t paying rent at the time either. Myself, on the other hand, I was only visiting 3 to 4 times a week. I probably stayed the night only once at that house. Whenever I was there, we always kept our noise down to a minimum.

Arguably, you could say that you would have never known if I was there. So, when we go back to Stephanie giving Annie reasons for kicking her out, she said, “You never pay rent on time, your partner is always here all hours of the day, you are very messy, and you are not very good for this house.” We were both reading these texts when she received them, and it was extremely obvious that Stephanie was really making up reasons, so she could get Annie out and move her partner in.

Annie was very stressed financially at the time, and she didn’t have many options. Stephanie reneged on her deal and showed no remorse for it. Sam, wasn’t innocent either. While this was going on, Sam was making life for Annie as miserable as possible whenever she could. She would dump all her things under the seat if everything wasn’t properly aligned and organized to suit her OCD. She would constantly dump trash and other stuff from the bathroom on her bed, and she made the biggest fuss on the most trivial things.

Initially, I played things cool with Annie. I helped her with food, gas, and anything that I could manage. But behind the scenes, I was silently plotting something to get back at these sh*tty people. I seriously hate how people get away with screwing others over, so I needed to think of something to get back at them.

REVENGE

Moving day arrives. I show up to Annie’s house, then we go to pick up the moving van. On the way back, I made a quick stop at Walmart.

I went to the meat section and picked the biggest and juiciest pork loin that I could find. This was gonna be used at the house.

When we got back, we immediately got to work. Within an hour, everything was neatly packed away and ready to go. But before we left, I grabbed the pork loin out the truck. With the meat, I go back inside and go to unscrew an AC vent near the ceiling in the living room.

Now, the duct inside of the vent had an opening that led to the floor. The other side of the while also had a vent near the floor, but for some reason, it was sealed off with wood. I dropped this pork loin inside of these sealed duct, put the vent back on, and we left.

I can only imagine the stench as it was the middle of summer here in Florida.

It was petty but worth it.” thatoneblackguy17

1. Cheat On My Brother With Your Ex? I’ll Ruin Your Precious Sweater

You can fix a broken heart, but you can fix a completely damaged garment.

“My little brother and his partner came to stay at my house for the weekend, and the partner was super self-centered and obnoxious. When they left, she forgot her clothes and toiletries because she left them sprawled all over my bathroom.

About a week later, she and my brother moved into an apartment together. After he paid for the moving truck, deposit and utilities, she cheated on him with her ex and kicked him out of the apartment.

This left him broke, homeless, and heartbroken.
In the days after the breakup, she kept calling and emailing him several times per day, demanding that he ask me to ship her clothes and toiletries back to her. (‘I mean, it’s really important. It’s my NORTHFACE.’) My brother called and pleaded with me to ship them to her, so she would stop having a reason to contact him.

Being the loving sister that I am, I gathered up the Really Important Northface sweatshirt, shorts, underwear, shampoo, conditioner, soap and razor.

I folded everything nicely. I then wrote a nice note apologizing for taking so long to mail them to her and let her know that I hope all is well.

The note was written in permanent marker, and the paper happened to be resting on the Really Important Northface when I wrote it. Unfortunately, the ink bled straight through the paper and onto the shirt.
Also, unfortunately, the shampoo, soap and conditioner caps were not tightly secured on their bottles, and the contents leaked out all over the clothes, further spreading the ink.

The most unfortunate result, though, was that her razor didn’t have any sort of protective cap or container and left little slashes all over the front of the Really Important Northface.

She received the package, and my brother never heard from her again.” Typingbutnotworking

A lot of people don’t like the idea of getting retaliation, but when it’s necessary, it can be the best feeling in the world! Which one of these stories did you love the most from this compilation?