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Have a story of you or someone you know getting back at someone with pro revenge after being wronged? Post it here!

Have a story of you or someone you know getting back at someone with pro revenge after being wronged? Post it here!


  1. Your story should be about getting back at someone who wronged you in generally an interesting and/or funny way. In order for your story to be pro revenge, it should involve you going out of your way and going above and beyond to get revenge. If that isn't the case with your story, it may be better suited for another revenge subreddit such as /r/pettyrevenge or /r/maliciouscompliance.

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  • The story does not have to be about you; it can be about someone you know or even something you saw somewhere else. However, stories must be feasibly possible. If the mods deem your post to be clearly fictional, it may be removed.

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    The Network of Retaliation:








    1,894,281 Subscribers


    Landlord put me through 3 years of hell.

    My landlord was a terrible human being. Honestly, calling him a human is even pushing it. Just a few things he has done to me over the past three years..

    Stole my dryer and other household products that are in a common area. Made me pay for a plumbing repair which was deemed normal wear and tear. Tried breaking into my house. Retaliated against me because I went to my lawyer after he sent me a letter about a parking spot. He tried charging me an extra $150/month.

    Mind you, I was never late for rent in 3 years, except for when he made me pay for the plumbing repair. So the next month I was a couple days late.

    The list goes on...Now this apartment was no where near nice. I found out the plumbing was illegal, he left me with a porch for years that has severe safety issues, the ceiling paint was always falling down, gas heater was not up to code, and so on.

    I finally got my chance to leave after he wanted to raise my rent $500/month. He will do anything, and everything to get more money out of his tenants.

    So I called the building inspector 4 days before I left. I told him everything. The porch when he finally replaced it didn't have a permit and was definitely not up to code. I told him about the plumbing and the heater. I went on and on. The inspector came over the very next day, I saw him taking measurements. Each violation is a $500/day fine until fixed. I honestly don't know what happened, but my God did it feel good to finally get him back. He's at the very least on the town's radar.

    A week before I moved out he tried telling me I needed to be out at a specific time. I never responded and where I lived, that's not how it works. He tried to threaten me with the police if I wasn't gone. Well, I went to the police myself that morning to warn them. The landlord did come by, threaten me and harass me. I called the police, they informed him I was in the right.

    Long story short, he had broken into my apartment (I had left to go to storage) while I was gone. He nailed my door shut. I told the police to get the supervisor because I was over being harassed by this guy. Go figure he left before the supervisor could get there. I'm positive he knew he'd be arrested on site.

    Got the police report, they're charging him with a felony for breaking and entering.

    Fines plus a charge? Don't be a jerk to good people.

    22:33 UTC


    My landlord got not *exactly* what he deserved, but it sure was a rough ride for him.

    i had a landlord who was pretty absent. i lived in this building (a high rise, like 20 stories) for 10+ years. he, despite living next door to me, was absent and cold personally but cool enough. rent was good, our agreement was NEVER bother him about anything unless its an absolute emergency.

    shower head wonky? go buy a new one. fridge breaks? get it fixed, or dude just buy a new one. take it out of what you pay in rent. lost the receipt i DONT CARE i know more or less what a fridge costs just take it out of rent

    finally his wife decides she wants more rent, wants to rent the place out as an office (not legal) and wants us out asap. i agree to move out a month early and get a month's rent back + deposit.

    complete 180 on their part. "the place is ruined, can't give you shit until you fix all this stuff". 2 main things: my cats did scratch up the leather legs of the dining table, and the pull-up bar made 2 dents in the door frame of the kitchen, which was quite nice hardwood. they come to me with this list of TONS of stuff like oh you hang a photo frame here, this tile is slightly chipped.

    this is the busiest work time of the year for me but im trying to be cooperative, sure, i got the table legs re-leathered, spackle the photo frame wall hole. can't do anything about the door frame, take it out of deposit. patch the tile. like dozens of little everyday-wear-and-tear things, like you want me to change the window screens? these are all new screens and in nicer shape than when i moved in! but i did them all, i trusted the guy. gotta get my money

    at the end he should have been giving me 24k rmb (~£2500). he gave me FIVE. "i still need to use the money to fix all that stuff, if you can't accept the five, i can't give you anything at all." i was super pissed off but took the five.

    now, people in the building are gossipy. i dont participate but i did tell this one older lady about my frustration. she told EVERYONE. the wife went from being the star of the "mommies group" of the building to nobody wanting to talk to her. people shunned the guy, too. i originally told them i was planning on moving to another city but an opportunity came up and i ended up renting a similar unit in the same building. so they thought they could just screw me over and not have to see me, but now they still did. often.

    a year later the office calls me with some question about how to do something with the floor heating, i go... door frame is not fixed, still has dents, i call the guy like "what the hell, man" and he tells me to mind my own business

    5 years later... i see the light at my old place is still on at 3am. huh, that's odd. i go to check, the door is open, and the place is just trashed, ruined. cabinets broken, stuff on the walls "lazy landlord"... and the dents on the kitchen door frame are still there. so the guy never fixed anything, just kept my money

    by this time smartphones were popular and we had a chat group for the whole building, so about 500 people. i took pictures and posted everything. apparently he had also nicked these peoples deposit, and there was a huge ruckus when they trashed the place, cops called. all these people chime in with complaints, and pictures. people smoking in the hallways, leaving leaky rubbish outside the front door, videos of people using foul language in front of children, dirty footprints.

    he got fined a lot for 1: creating a public disturbance 2: degrading the quality of the living space 3: illegally renting a residence as an office and to top it off the building management wouldn't grant him permission to have workers in to fix the place, so it sat there empty for like 6 months. the fines were big, too.

    take ~1.5 month's rent from me, lose a year's rent. suck it, bro.

    02:11 UTC


    Got rude guy arrested for suspended license.

    In the mid 2000s my friends and I would frequent a small billiards place in a neighboring town where you could rent a table by the hour or play per game. We’d play a few games, watch whatever sports were on TV, and have casual conversations. There were no problems and no drama until about 3 months of us visiting this place.

    A guy shows and takes our spot at the billiards table. No big deal. We were all chatting anyway. 20 min later my friend lets him know we want to play next game and the jerk is super dismissive.

    Needless to say, we didn’t get in during the next game. So I politely let him know we wanted to play next. Another lady chimed in she wanted the game after us. The guy blatantly ignored me and the other woman.

    Some more time going by and the guy leave the table. We see our chance to get in. We put the quarters in and the balls are dispensed- except the green “6” ball. The guy took it to the bathroom with him.

    At this point it was ridiculous and we notified the manager. The manager noted it was 12:30 and they were going to be calling last call and closing so he didn’t want to make a scene by kicking him out. He gets us another ball so we can play.

    The guy comes out of the bathroom and knows we realized what he did. He smirks and proceeds to the patio to have a cigarette, bringing along his beer and the green billiard ball.

    The guy comes back in and tossed the ball he was holding onto the table hitting a few balls on the table and messing up our game. He goes up to the bar just in time for last call.

    One of the friends I was with suggested we follow him home and each call the highway patrol to report a suspected drunk driver. 3 of 4 of us agree. So when he leaves we used our trusty Nextel push-to-talk phones and coordinated several calls to the police. We provided details like license plate, vehicle make and model and color, and mentioned the car nearly hit another vehicle, was swerving between lines and driving erratically. This was under a 15 minute plan. We had no idea where the guy lived but suspected it was close as he was visiting a neighborhood place so our time was limited.

    The one guy who didn’t notify the police tailed the jerk and called us giddy when a police officer pulled between him and the guy and turned in his lights to pull him over. The police blotter that week included an arrested of a guy who was pulled over after multiple calls of erratic driving. He wasn’t arrested for DWI but instead for driving on a suspended license.

    TLDR: guy was a jerk at a local billiards club so we got him pulled over by the cops and he was arrested for driving in a suspended license.

    20:34 UTC


    A lawyer's pro revenge on a landlord

    Landlords are assholes, generally speaking. Everyone knows that. But if you think residential landlords are bad, they’re nothing compared to commercial landlords. Landlords of commercial buildings are some of the cruelest, nastiest people I’ve ever come across. This revenge tale is about a commercial landlord, and how I dealt with him.

    Back in the 90s, sometimes I’d go for lunch at this restaurant in the basement of our building. The place was called “The Vault”, because it had a massive bank vault that had always been there, dating back to the days before the place was turned into a restaurant. The vault was so huge that they could seat a couple of tables in there, and you could eat dinner surrounded by rows of old, gleaming safe deposit boxes. One day I was there for lunch, and the owner took me aside.

    “The landlord’s driving me nuts,” he said.

    “The landlord drives everyone nuts.” I was a subtenant in the same building, sharing space with an older lawyer, Aaron, and the landlord was always causing us trouble. I’d already had a few run-ins with him, and we hated each other on sight. In most jurisdictions, commercial landlords don’t need court orders to get you out if you're late with the rent. Instead, they just change the locks, and you find out about it when you show up and your key doesn’t work. Every time our landlord had a dispute with anyone, which was often, he’d always threaten to change the locks.

    “He keeps demanding all this stuff for extra rent, and it’s really weird, because a lot of it’s really old.” The restaurant owner showed me a letter the landlord had served on him earlier that day. I looked over the demand, and read a list of expenses for snow removal and parking lot repair and common area flooring and all kinds of crap going back years. I read it all the way to the end, and there it was, the usual clause saying he was going to change the locks if the tenant didn’t pay this and do that.

    “From the wording of the demand, it looks like you’ve been fighting a while. Why did you wait before consulting a lawyer?”

    “I asked one of the lawyers I know, and he said it’s hopeless.” He told me the lawyer’s name. It was a guy I knew with a shitty real estate practice, who’d resorted to taking little legal aid cases to keep the lights on when the market tanked in ‘89.

    “You do something to make the landlord hate you?” I asked, “because this is a bit over the top, even for our asshole landlord.”

    “He knows I’m moving the restaurant. I think he’s trying to grab as much money as possible before I go. Plus he’s giving me grief over the vault.”

    “He won’t let you take it with you?”

    “Are you kidding? It weighs almost a hundred tons, and I don’t need it. But the lease says I have to remove it, and that I also have to restore the building to what it was before there was a vault. That would cost a fortune. The asshole landlord says if I leave the vault behind when I move, he’ll sue.”

    “Send your lease up to my office, and let me look it over,” I said. I finished my lunch, and when I got back to my office the lease was waiting for me.

    It was just as bad as the restaurant owner said. The lease was a renewal of a renewal of an assignment of a renewal, the original documents dating back to the shortly after W.W.II when a bank first leased the place and the vault was installed. Somehow the landlord had suckered the restaurant into taking over a lease that left him liable to remove a bank vault at the end of term.

    “No big deal,” I thought, “the restaurant can default, and all the landlord can do is sue a shell company.” But when I got to the last page of the lease, there was a guarantee clause. The restaurant owner had personally guaranteed the lease, and he was on the hook for removing a vault weighing a hundred tons, and then fixing the place up. It would cost a fortune.

    The case was hopeless, of course; that was obvious right away. But then I thought about the asshole landlord with his demands and his threats and his rent hikes, and I asked my brain to do me a solid, which it promptly did. I picked up the phone and called the restaurant owner.

    “I’m fucked, right? You’re calling me to say there’s no way out. That’s what my commercial lawyer already said. But I just thought I’d ask.”

    “I can save you, but it’s gonna cost.”

    “How much?”

    “Five thousand in legals, and another G-note for the agent.”

    “Agent? What kind of agent?”

    “Real estate. Send up a cheque, certified, and leave the rest to me.” The cheque hit my desk in less than an hour. I went to Aaron’s office. “I need a real estate agent,” I said.

    “You buying a house?”


    “Selling a house?”


    By this point I’d been sharing space with Aaron for almost five years, and he knew me pretty well. “You pulling one of your stunts again?” he asked.

    “Yup. But nothing that will get you into trouble.”

    “I know a guy.” Aaron knew all kinds of guys, and that’s one of the reasons he eventually got disbarred. But he knew a guy, and he gave me the agent’s name and number, and the next day I paid the agent a visit. I told him what I needed, and we agreed to terms. I gave him some papers and the cash for his fee.

    A few days later I was again at The Vault for lunch. The owner saw me walk in, and greeted me himself.

    “The landlord’s here,” he said.


    “For lunch, and to be an asshole. Let’s sit in the vault room so I don’t have to look at his face.” He took me to the vault room, and with the door almost completely closed, we had a consultation while we ate pasta and drank red wine.

    “We’re making demand on the landlord,” I said, munching on spaghetti carbonara.

    “Demand? What are we demanding?”

    I pulled a document out of my briefcase and passed it to him while I sipped my wine. “We’re demanding that the asshole landlord release all the restaurant equipment, all the fixtures. The ovens, the freezers, the ventilation: everything you need to run a restaurant.”

    “The lease exempts all that stuff. He can’t stop me taking what I want. The only thing that matters is the vault, and of course I don’t want that.” I shook my head.

    “You need the vault,” I said “and we’re demanding that he release the bank vault as well. We’re insisting that he let you take it out within seven business days.”

    “You think you can beat the landlord with reverse psychology? You think if you treat him like a two-year old, you can manipulate him into doing what you want?”

    “We’ll find out soon enough. He’s had the demand for a couple of days now.”

    The restaurant owner dropped his wine glass and it shattered on the marble floor. “You already gave it to him?” the restaurant owner said. He got up, swung open the vault door and called for the waiter to clean up the mess.

    “Let’s see what the landlord has to say,” I told him, and we walked over to the landlord’s table. The landlord was a big, beefy man with a big appetite. He sat alone, eating a rack of lamb wolfishly with his hands.

    “My client needs an answer today,” I said. The landlord looked up at me as he chewed noisily. “I’m The Vault’s lawyer,” I said. “I gave you a demand the other day. My client needs an answer right now. He needs the vault for a new place, and he’s got to make arrangements.”

    “Your client can forget about the bank vault,” he said, wiping his massive greasy hands on an already soiled napkin.

    “But you can’t do that,” I said. My shock was feigned, but the restaurant owner’s jaw dropped for real.

    The landlord laughed at us. “I’m the landlord. I can do what I want.”

    “I’m gonna need that in writing, because my client might sue.” I said.

    “Sue all you like,” the landlord told me, “sue ‘till you’re blue in the face.” He told me that I’d have a formal response by day’s end, and then he told me to go away and let him finish his lunch. When the letter arrived from the landlord, claiming ownership over the bank vault, I brought it downstairs and showed it to my client.

    “How the hell did you do that?”

    “Trade secret,” I said.

    The following month the restaurant moved out and the place was empty, and that was too bad, because I had always liked eating at the Vault. Now the restaurant was in a new location twenty minutes away. They called the new place “The Vault,” and they’d preserved the vibe of the old place. It was very similar, except they didn't have the bank vault. The bank vault, all one hundred tons of it, was where it had always been, in the basement of the building where I rented space. I showed up for work a little after that, and Aaron collared me.

    “The landlord’s looking for you,” he said.

    “Oh yeah? What about?”

    “He’s really angry. He said his deal fell through.”


    “He was supposed to rent the place downstairs to a new tenant, a bank or a credit union or something like that. They were supposed to come in to sign a lease, but they didn’t show up.”

    “And what’s that got to do with me?” I said to Aaron, and I said the same thing again to the landlord when he managed to track me down a couple of days later.

    “I know you were behind this,” he said, his jowls quivering, “I know it was you. That offer from the agent, it was all bullshit. Just a trick to make me keep the vault, so that your client could sneak out of the place and leave that fucking bank vault behind. I’m gonna sue.”

    “If you’re looking for counsel, I think I’m going to have to declare a conflict.”

    “I’m gonna sue the restaurant, and that agent, and I’m gonna sue you.” He stormed off.

    But the landlord didn’t sue. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t have a contract to sue on, only a vague letter of intent that I’d drafted, enough to hook a greedy landlord who was used to having his way. The offer he’d received was non-binding, incapable of acceptance without the signing of a formal lease, which of course never got signed.

    When I left Aaron’s place a year later, the downstairs was still unoccupied, with a sad ‘for rent’ sign sitting in the window, starting to look faded.

    20:40 UTC


    Steal furniture? Almost lose your job

    So my dad owns a house that he's been renting for some time now. The tenants that lived there were for the most part decent people who my dad thought were trustworthy.

    That all changed about 2 months into the tenancy when the the tenant refused to pay the month's rent. My dad showed some leniency and gave them another month to pay up what was owed, they didn't pay a thing.

    By this point, my dad frustrated by the whole situation and being two months out of rent money offered them a deal. Leave the house ASAP and then only pay half the money owed, they countered with a different agreement, they would leave the house in a clean state with all of their furniture left behind as compensation.

    My dad, wanting to just be done with them, agreed. Queue to when my dad gets to the house, finding the place in a mess, with NONE of the furniture left behind, including the furniture that belonged to my dad in the first place. The two sofas that my dad owned were left behind, but they were trashed and left in the shed.

    When my dad confronted them asking for them to pay up the full amount that the furniture was worth, he was met with a promise of "payment after two weeks" which he didn't believe and when he requested they pay earlier he was met with "Good luck getting your money" followed by laughing emojis.

    This made my dad angry and he decided that he wasn't going to let this slide.

    My dad knew that the tenant was a christian pastor of a church, and his son also had some job related to the church. My dad contacted the church and explained everything from how they hadn't paid him rent money to stealing the furniture and trashing the place. The church was somewhat interested about this behaviour.

    The next day, my dad gets an angry phone call from the tenant's son cursing at him and asking him what he thought he was doing contacting the church saying he was being 'unfair'. My dad hung up on him only for him to attempt to ring 10 times after he hung up. From what we could piece together, the church had told the pastor that if he didn't settle things with my dad, him and his son would lose their jobs.

    My dad received the full amount for the furniture that same day and agreed to back off. My dad later said, it was never about the money but the way this guy treated him and his values (my dad being a christian himself was disappointed)

    12:22 UTC


    Threaten my friend with revenge porn? I'll ruin your whole damn life.

    My very good friend made...some slightly dumb mistakes and sent some pictures to someone that she reasonably thought she could trust, but not knowing much more than than his first name, his screen name, and roughly where he lived and the type of work he did. He is not in our country but had indicated that he would be traveling for work to near us shortly, and they had made some plans to meet.

    And when she got some red flags and backed out, the dude threatened to publish these pictures online.

    I am, incidentally, an attorney.

    So, some searching later, and gathering up any pictures he sent her of him, that could possibly identify him, his online handle let me to a TikTok page, which lead me to an instagram page with his name on it.

    That lead to a linkedin page with his place of work that matched a picture he sent with a branded polo he was wearing.

    Some more searched got me the email of the CEO, VP of HR, operations manager, and public relations manager.

    I just fired off an email on behalf of my client of the screenshots of him threatening revenge porn, snippets of the conversation showing that username while he sent that exact picture of him wearing his company's branded apparel, links to how I know it's him, along with pictures he sent her of his motorcycle with the license plate showing, as further proof it is him. I also included screenshots of him discussing a workplace incident that were time stamped, along with pieces of dialogue discussing how he had sex with an ex at his place of work, and discussing plans to have sex with her in his office as well.

    I also included a picture he sent her showing his work laptop with his entire outlook calendar, along with proprietary information (which he sent to "prove he was busy") along with other pictures he took of his workplace with non-consenting employees.

    I further informed his employer that I will be forwarding all this information to local (to them) law enforcement and since he had indicated that he would be traveling to the United States soon, will also forward this to the local office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation as, since my client is a US citizen on US soil, these threats constituted a federal crime. So that should they continue with his employment, and continue with their plans to send him to the United State for work, I will ensure, on behalf of my client that federal law enforcement is waiting for him on arrival. Which I will do, as one of the assistant US attorney's for this region is a law school buddy of mine.

    Since I have his license plate # I know where he lives, and will be contacting his local authorities tomorow.

    You dumb mother fucker thinking you were hiding around anonymity thinking you could threaten my friend? It took me 45 minutes to destroy your life.

    02:37 UTC


    Not going to pay overtime? Think again.

    TL:DR Don’t mess with the IT guy.

    I was discussing this sub with a good friend, and he said, “Boy, have I got a story that’ll fit.” It wasn’t his story, but his brother’s, and I sat with him and got the details. Buckle up, it’s a good one…and a long one.

    Let’s call him “Bob”. Bob has been fiddling with computers since he was a kid, and knows them pretty well. As with most IT people, he’s moved from job to job. The employer he worked for was a service/distribution company, and there were two IT employees. The company was located in Ontario, Canada.

    About three years ago, Bob’s employer decided to modernize their software. They had separate programs for Dispatching, for Inventory, for Payroll and Finances, and it was complicated moving information from one program to the other. They decided to get an ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning) program, and Bob recommended one that he knew inside-out from a previous employer.

    For those of you who don’t know, an ERP program handles everything. Purchase orders. Sales. Inventory. Personnel. Vendors. Customers. All of it. You can run a report and find out which customer has bought the most Part ABC in the last year. Which salesman has improved his numbers the most. Which vendor has the fastest delivery time. Which shipper packed the most orders.

    Everyone in the company used the ERP program, but it was very complicated, and they used the aspects of it that related to their position. For example, the Receiver would accept a shipment, verify the quantity, confirm it was received…and the inventory stats would be available to the Sales people if they wanted to look up how many were on hand. The Receiver didn’t care what the price was, or who the vendor was, he just did his job.

    Bob was run ragged during the implementation process, but he managed to train most of the employees on their aspects, and after a few months, everything was running fairly smoothly. Bob still got tickets for tweaks in the operation of the software, and occasional hardware IT issues.

    Then the company decided to expand their footprint and was marketing into different time zones.

    That messed things up. Atlantic Canada is 90 minutes early, so if someone sent an email or an order at 8am their time, it would arrive at 6:30am Ontario time. Pacific Canada is 3 hours late….so an email sent at 3pm Vancouver time would arrive at 6pm. This stretched out the day, so many staff came in early and worked late.

    Bob would arrive at 8am and there would be people that demanded his immediate assistance, and were annoyed that he didn’t respond instantly, even though their request was submitted before his start time. Same with late in the day…his phone would ring at dinnertime with people that wanted help right now.

    They decided to stagger his and his IT colleague’s shift times, Bob would start at 6am and work till 2:30, and his colleague would start at 10:30am and work till 7pm. Bob’s colleague had kids, and refused the shift change. The employer insisted. The colleague quit.

    That meant that Bob was the only person in the IT department. The employer said they would look to hire a new IT guy, but they had trouble finding one that knew the ERP system….and they were offering well under a market value salary.

    Bob asked for a raise and was denied. Then he wanted overtime, and the employer told him that as an IT specialist, he was exempt from overtime laws in Ontario. Bob looked it up, and the employer was correct. This went on for some time, and he knew lots of IT people socially. They told him what the company was offering, and Bob know that they wouldn’t find another tech.

    Things went downhill from there. Bob would get chewed out if he missed a call or an email, no matter what time it came in. He had to train new hires in the ERP system, as well as take care of the hardware. He asked repeatedly for better compensation, and was denied….so he planned to get a new job.

    Now here’s the revenge. Bob had access to the entirety of the ERP program. When a user signed in, the time was logged, and even if they didn’t sign out, after 15 minutes it would log them out anyway. Everyone in the company was on salary, and many of them came in early and stayed late. Ontario labour law states that even salaried workers are entitled to overtime after 44 hours a week, unless they were Managers or Supervisors.

    So Bob jumped into the program and ran a report for each employee that wasn’t a Manager. All the way back to when the ERP program was started. Then he reached out to an employment lawyer and got the okay to refer employees to him.

    Bob lined up another job, and after he left, every employee in the company got an email with an Excel sheet showing the hours they had put in past 44 hours a week. The subject line said “You’re Legally Entitled to Overtime Pay” In the body of the email was the lawyer’s name.

    The shit hit the fan. Almost every employee authorized the lawyer to negotiate with the company on their behalf, and the company had to pay a ton of money.

    All the company had to do was pay Bob for the extra work he put in. Instead, they had to pay almost everyone.

    02:36 UTC


    I ruined my ex-boyfriend’s life 20+ years ago and I just made sure it stayed ruined

    Sorry this is a bit long. All names changed. Throw away account for all the reasons.

    When I was in college in the 90s, I met “Jake” (then M23) through mutual friends. He had already graduated and was planning to move to the opposite side of the United States for grad school and I had already been making plans to move with friends only a 90 minute drive away from where he was moving to. We had so much in common, fell in love and it really seemed like fate, both planning to move 3000 miles and landing so close together. He had two sisters and a younger brother who were all awesome people and I became instant friends with them as well.

    Because he was in school and I was working, I would usually go to him to hang out on weekends. He was renting a house with 2 roommates, also in his program. We were young so money was tight but we had fun, went for taco dates and spent a lot of time at his house where he was breeding and selling small animals. Jake was an animal sciences PhD student so being around animals was normal and I loved it. I met and became friends with his advisor’s wife (“Mary, F mid-50s) who worked in administration at the university. She is a lovely woman and I would often have lunch with her when I went over on weekends. Jake was a teaching assistant (TA) and I met other people in the program and made friends with them faster than he did.

    After about 2 years of dating, I was at the house one day, laying in bed together, in a state of some undress and he said out of the blue, he was concerned I’d been gaining weight and it made it harder for him to be attracted to me. No concern about my health, it was all about him finding me unattractive. I sat up and said, well, then maybe you should make sure there is better food for me to eat than crackers and cheese when I come up on weekends. Even at 23, I didn’t take that kind of BS. I had gained MAYBE 10 pounds since meeting him two years earlier and still wore the same size clothes (about a US size 6-8). I wasn’t going to engage in a fight about it after all, it was his problem, not mine, so I asked him calmly, so what is your solution to this? He stared at me blankly and said well, I guess that you should try to lose weight and I said, nah, I’m not going to do that so what are YOU going to do about it. He said, well, I guess nothing, I wanted to let you know how I feel and I said, cool, thank you, put my clothes back on, went to sleep and drove home the next day as usual.

    We keep dating and about 3 months later he called me and said he wanted to break up after close to 3 years. The reason AND I QUOTE “You don’t know enough about science”. He felt like he couldn’t have a conversation with me about his work where he didn’t have to use common names for animals instead of scientific ones. I said, well, that’s bullshit, what’s the real reason. He said it was the real reason. He came to see me a month later to return something of mine and I confronted him, demanding the real reason. He finally admitted he had been seeing one of his undergrad students, let’s call her Meg, a 19 year old. He was then 26 and her teacher. I screamed at him to leave, my roommate threated to throw him off our second floor balcony if he didn’t go and he left. It hit me all at once after he walked out and I went from rage to stunned laughter. I’d met Meg a few times and at one point, she was at his house for a BBQ and spilled something all over her pants. Jake asked me if I could loan her some sweats. I couldn’t because I was a size 8 and she was a size 18. Nothing wrong with that, AT ALL, but the point is, I realized he made those comments about my weight to try and get me to break up with HIM because he was a coward. He clearly liked a big gal. Although, when he’d said those things to me about my weight it was 1am, I lived about 95 miles away and we had just had sex so I don’t know how he thought this would go, even in hindsight, it’s perplexes me.
    Did he think I was going to break up with him and storm off into the night and drive for an hour and a half?

    ANYWAY, I emailed his roommates, it was the early 2000s, it’s how you communicated anything you didn’t want to say on the phone. I wanted to let them know we'd broken up and that they were always lovely to me and thanked them for being friends. They both admitted they knew about Meg and were the ones to demand that Jake tell me or they would. That’s when he broke up with me with the lame, you don’t understand science excuse. One of his roommate, a super nice, super cute guy named “George” offered to help me get a few things still at their house that he had collected for me away from around the house. He suggested I come up for the weekend, we go out and drink and have a good time, all the things Jake didn’t want to “waste” money on and I said sure!

    So I went up and George let me into the house while Jake was gone. I took photos of all of his animals because while I might not be a PhD student, I paid attention and I knew he had an endangered species in his care. He wasn’t breeding it, it was an un-releasable animal he had taken in from a rescue organization. There was paperwork he had to submit with a $25 fee and he refused to do it, saying he didn’t want the government in his business. I took photos of that animal, all his breeding conditions and a photo of an animal not allowed in the state which was in a tank, right next to a window and visible from outside. I then went out for a night on the town with George. We stumbled in early, around midnight so Jake and Meg who were watching TV would see me in a short dress, drunk and George practically carrying me. I spent the night in George’s room. He was a total gentleman but made sure to leave the room and parade past them in his boxers a few times and we giggled and moaned loudly so they could hear us. When I went to leave the next morning, Jake said I didn’t have to act like a whore in front of him as I ate a donut slowly in my rumbled dress with messy hair while George beamed at me and then planted a kiss on my head. Meg looked ashamed, not quite knowing where to look and I said have fun with my leftovers and walked out. I wanted to think the petty, loud, “hook up” and a few juvenile insults was my “revenge”. It was not.

    The next day I had my photos developed (ahhh, the good old days) and called the state office of Fish and Wildlife. I reported the animals in the house, the potential over-crowding of breeding animals and the two animals he shouldn’t legally have at all in the state and asked them how to make a report. Turns out Jake wasn’t well liked by his peers in his program, or by his roommates but I was! George had suggested that he and their other roommate could submit complaints to the University that a TA was sleeping with one of his students and showing her favoritism. The night we were out at the bars, we made sure to tell the story to anyone who they knew. They made sure all the women in his classes knew he was sleeping with Meg. It wasn’t a large program so people knew fast he had cheated and was now dating his student. George and the other roommate made sure people knew they had put in complaints, sick of Jake’s entitled BS.

    With my full statement made and photos sent to the state wildlife officials, I called my friend Mary, Jake’s advisor’s wife. She knew about the break up and lame reason and I let her know he admitted he was sleeping with a student. I’d been emailing with him and he admitted to it in writing so I sent that to Mary. To say she was not happy about that was an understatement. She said she made sure it would be investigated and told her husband, Jake’s direct advisor while I was on the phone with her.

    Speaking of investigations, a few weeks later George called me, giddy, to say state Fish and Wildlife officials were there, confiscating animals. He told them he would be happy to tell them whatever they needed to know. Meg was there when it happened and told the officials as far as she knew, all the animals belonged to her boyfriend Jake and that they were all legal. That put George and the other roommate in the clear. One animal was kept in the backyard so it was implied to Jake that a neighbor reported it. While they were there to investigate, they knew to look in the back window to see the far more problematic, illegal to have in the state under nearly any circumstances, animal. Since George was on the lease, he was able to let them in to investigate in the house. The animals were all in communal areas and the officers stayed there for a few hours and returned with a warrant to take all the animals and enter Jake’s room to investigate. George and the other roommate let them into their rooms with no issues and were quickly cleared. Meg apparently couldn’t get a hold of Jake and eventually drove to the University to find him. Remember, no cell phones yet! It was a good day. The only animals they left was some guppies in a fish tank.

    Now, PhD students need grant money to do research and a large part of animal studies funding comes from the federal government. Jake had just gotten an EPA grant right around when he broke up with me. So I called the EPA and asked how I would report that a person with a federal grant was being investigated for illegally harboring endangered animals. Long story short, he lost his EPA grant and had to make restitution on what had already been used, close to $30,000. He would never be able to get another federal grant. He avoided jail time on the state charges since all the animals were in good health but lost all his breeding animals (worth thousands of dollars) since they were collected for safe keeping during the investigation when the two illegal animals were taken. In the end, he owed a $15,000 fine and the two animals went to a nearby nature center. For years, I would stop by if I was in the area to visit them!

    The university revoked his scholarship and fired him from teaching for having an inappropriate relationship with a student. He somehow escaped being expelled but it always shocked me that he never tried to hide the relationship with Meg and was so stupidly self assured he didn’t even wait the 4 weeks until she would have been done with his class to start publicly dating her. By the University rules, he would have been in the clear to date her, not being her teacher anymore and she would just have to avoid any classes he was a TA in. It never fails to make me laugh.

    After a few months, I emailed his sisters and told them I missed them because Jake broke up with me after trying to call me fat and cheating on me and I felt weird contacting them. The girls told me he told the family I broke up with him because of the distance. I forwarded them emails that Jake wrote after the breakup, talking about how he fell for Meg and he was sorry about it but it was true, I couldn’t keep up with him academically and it made him attracted to Meg.

    Jake managed to convince his dad to pay for one more year of school so he could get a Master’s instead of a PhD and while I stayed in contact with his sisters and brother via email and then social media, I largely let it all go. I got even, made some friends, Mary became like an auntie to me and I went on with life. I went on to get a master’s degree myself and my specialty? Helping scientists and doctors communicate their work to lay people. You know, us dummies who can’t remember all the scientific names. I swear, it happened by accident, not design but I love it and I work with everyone from small town doctors and nurses to pharmaceutical companies to museums to state and federal governments to film and TV producers. I travel a lot and speak and get to learn a lot of cool things about our planet and how things work.

    I knew through his siblings that Jake and Meg got married and had 2 kids. Meg dropped out of the sciences and became an accountant, Jake went back to breeding animals. Every once and awhile, his sisters or brother would tell me something over for lunch or via text but we had our own relationship that exists outside of him. Apparently when I sent a wedding gift for one of his sisters he loudly complained at a co-ed bridal shower that all of his siblings still were my friend and didn’t make an effort to embrace his now wife, Meg. Apparently the sister just laughed and said, I don’t make it a habit to be friends with homewreckers. This is how Jake’s parents found out how their relationship started and ours ended, 10 years after we broke up. Jake never found out I was behind reporting him to the state and in the end, I didn’t lie about a single thing, except maybe exaggerating a drunken make out session with George who is now a successful and tenured professor with a lovely wife and daughters.

    Fast forward about 20 years to a few weeks ago. I was at a university giving a lecture to a room of 250 undergrad and grad students. In the end, I was mingling with the student afterwards and I hear a voice say, hey OP, long time no see and I realize it’s Jake and I didn’t change the expression on my face, at all. I was completely shocked and my instinct was to play dumb! So I said, I’m sorry, help me out, have we met at another workshop or lecture? He looked incredulous and said, it’s me Jake and I said, I can’t place you but I would love to figure it out. Finally I gasped and said, oh my goodness, Jake! I guess I blocked you out and said, well, lovely to see you and moved on quickly when he tried to reach out and hug me. I was happy to leave it there, with the satisfaction of him seeing me as a guest lecturer in a science department of a major University when he was just in the audience.

    The department chair and faculty who had invited me to speak took me out to dinner and while there, one of them said, so you know Jake? I said, I did from over 20 years ago, being vague about how. She went on to tell me he had been there for an interview for a teaching position and had spent a few days there observing and they were likely going to hire him. I couldn’t control it, I scoffed. When they all looked at me I said, I’m sorry, I’m just shocked he’s teaching after what happened at University X. They said what happened and I said, he was sleeping with a 19 year old student when he was 26 and he had to leave the program without a PhD because he couldn’t afford to stay after losing his scholarship. The three people I was with all looked at each other like they knew they had a problem and said, wow, we’ll have to look into that and changed the subject.

    My old friend Mary (retired a year or 2 now but still friendly with her old collages) called me this weekend to say a friend at the university let her know someone had called doing a background check about Jake and they pulled his file which included being fired, leaving the program with a lower degree and the complaint letters from over 20 years ago about his conduct. Mary’s name had been on it with her husband listed as the faculty advisor, so she thought she’d like to know. As a bonus, it had a copy of his arrest record for the illegal animals. I guess his dad had paid for a decent lawyer to get the record expunged after the charges were reduced and he paid the fines so it doesn’t show up on a standard background check. I don’t think he’s going to get that job.

    So I will return to my life, content that the universe comes through sometimes, especially if you give it a little nudge now and then. The best revenge is when you don’t have to do anything wrong, you just have to help direct knowledge to the right places. If there is anything I can impart to any young women and men reading this, as I shimmy happily into my now size 10 pants, it’s that, if someone who is supposed to love you complains about your weight or looks, that is their problem to fix mentally, not yours and maybe it’s time to check out what they are doing behind your back or simply move on. Remember though, it is their flaw, not yours. If Jake hadn’t been a coward and tried to make me break up with him and just ended things with me in a mature way, I might not have found out about Meg and turned his own wickedness back on himself.

    00:04 UTC


    Say Goodbye to Your House and Your Retirement

    This one is not technically my revenge but some revenge I got to see up close and take joy from, and slightly participate in.

    The background is most of the story so this will be a little long.

    Trigger warning for self harm.

    I was in the Navy and stationed on the submarine base in Connecticut.

    I had a friend I met in boot camp and we were in the same class for our A school (Navy job training)

    We'll call that friend Bill.

    Now Bill wasn't the most physically fit guy. He was short, kind of chubby, and wore glasses.

    However Bill was really smart, and as the sonar technician he was meant to be he would've been amazing. He had a pragmatic way of looking at things I really valued in a friend and I know it would have made him successful if he had made it out to the fleet.

    While in school we had a couple of petty officers that were hard asses. They somehow convinced themselves they were super soldiers despite the fact that our jobs in that field are really nerd centric. You get picked for that job because of your math and computer skills, not your deadlift number.

    Still they were both all about being fit and working out all the time.

    We would do physical training 3 times a week and while most of us could keep up, Bill often fell behind on runs or didn't quite meet what these two idiots believed to be the standard. To be clear, Bill did pass the minimum requirements for fitness, he just didn't go as extreme as these guys. (Side note for other Navy vets, he got the MCPON coin for how hard he pushed himself at PT the day he visited.)

    The end result was that they would constantly berate and belittle Bill. They'd call him fat, lazy, and everything else, They'd tell him he should kill himself, you name it. They were always on his ass despite him passing his assessments.

    At some point, Bill pushed himself too hard an injured his knee. He told these petty officers he was injured and had been seen by the doc on base. The doc had put him on light duty so the knee could recover. He had the paperwork to back it up.

    They elected to ignore that and threaten him with kicking him out if he didn't do the workouts.

    So Bill kept pushing himself, injuring himself more, and his mental health degraded the whole time.

    In my time in the Navy you didn't get mental health services really, the only person to talk to like that was the Chaplain. For those who don't know, the Chaplain is the religious leader, usually a pastor/priest/rabbi that has signed up as a commissioned officer. Our Chaplain was the sweetest little woman you ever met, but as a Chaplain she held the rank of Captain (high ranking officer).

    So Bill set up a meeting with the Chaplain to talk about things.

    When Bill informed the petty officers he would be missing class the next day for his Chaplain meeting, they yelled at and berated him more.

    They called him a pussy, useless, not fit for the Navy, and everything else you can imagine. They convinced Bill he was being weak and the Chaplain wouldn't care about his issues, that nobody would care. They promised to make life even harder if he didn't show the next day. So he cancelled his meeting.

    Evidently, bad luck hit and that night his girlfriend was also breaking it off with him. (She wasn't worth his time or money but he couldn't see that)

    That night I awoke to a 3:00 AM call from Bill. I couldn't hear anything and I asked several times "Bill you there? Are you ok?"

    It wouldn't have been the first time that I got a drunk dial from one of my friends after a hard day like Bill had. Sailors have been known to drown their sorrows a bit.

    Eventually I figured it was a butt dial/ drunk dial and hung up and went back to bed. I still regret that decision.

    The next day, all hell broke loose.

    Me and a couple other friends got calls from Bill's now ex-girlfriend informing us he was in the hospital because he slit his own throat.

    Turned out a few of us got that 3:00 AM call, but Bill couldn't speak at the time and was kind of out of it due to blood loss.We finished what we had to do on base and rushed over to the hospital.

    As we got there, the Chaplain was on her way out and we passed her in the hallway.

    She spoke to us briefly to say that Bill would be ok, and she wouldn't forget this.

    I have never seen a look on someone's face that so accurately depicted raw unfiltered rage.

    It took us all by surprise because she was such a small, sweet, and personable lady.

    But the look in her eyes, you could just tell she wanted someone to pay for this, she wanted revenge and we all knew she wore the kind of rank that could get it done.

    We visited Bill who could barely talk but he told us the story of what had happened, what he was thinking at the time and how glad he was it didn't work.

    Apparently it was cold enough that the blood clotted on the outside of his neck and made a kind of patch that kept him alive long enough for the EMS to find him and get him to a hospital. The Doctor said he missed his carotid by about a millimeter.

    A week went by and we hadn't heard anything until we got called in by the Chief of the training command (the boss to these petty officers). He said he wanted to check on the rest of us and make sure there weren't any other issues with these guys he wasn't aware of, and that we were all ok.

    I let him know about an ass chewing he gave me a few months back, that I was really set up by these guys and they had lied to him. My friends cited a couple other examples of their own with these guys being generally shitty dishonest people.

    I don't think it mattered, I think their fates were already sealed and we were being asked for more ammo to bury them with.

    The next day they were nowhere to be found and we were introduced to new instructors who would be taking over our training permanently.

    After class, I decided to stop by and asked the Chaplain what happened.

    She told me she had never been more disgusted by the actions of a sailor than these two guys who convinced someone NOT to come see her.

    She teared up a bit regretting that she didn't get the chance to help Bill before he made his attempt. In her mind, it was these two that precipitated and enabled Bill's attempt.

    So on to the revenge:

    The Chaplain told me she went to the Admiral in charge of the entire base, and demanded their immediate discharge. He granted it. Both petty officers were immediately processed out with dishonorable discharges. I can't remember the exact charge I heard they cited for it, but I know the Navy has a way of selling BS on paper when they want a certain outcome. Especially officers at that high level.

    So basically they get no VA benefits of any kind, got kicked out of the base housing they lived in, and could probably only find work at a gas station or under the table stuff somewhere. Also I know from someone else who got the boot that the Navy only pays for a single bus ticket to get you back home, not your family or any of your belongings.

    When you have a discharge like that, no company with DOD contracts is allowed to hire you. That includes McDonalds because they have stores on bases throughout the country. Taco bell, Subway, etc. none of them will give you a job. They can't and they don't want to anyway.

    So I don't know where these guys went or what become of them, but I know their lives were irrevocably ruined. One of them had about 18 years in, so he was 2 years from retirement and lost it all. The other was at about 12 years, so he also lost a lot. Wherever they are now, I'd be very surprised to hear they're making more than minimum wage.

    As for Bill? Well he made a full recovery, he got a full medical discharge. Which is an honorable discharge that meant E5 pay for the rest of his life, full benefits, and a referral to a counselor in his home state once he got back there. All paid for by the Navy.

    We lost touch over the years but I did see on Facebook he got himself together, became a police officer, and got married.

    *Edit to add*

    For those who have pointed it out, their discharges were actually OTH but I didn't want to have to explain the difference or have people google it. We always used dishonorable colloquially for OTH/BCD because they all mean you got the boot and your life is gonna suck. But no they didn't do full CM or any brig time, but I did hear they pushed it to ASB and lost.

    Also saw someone pointed out Bill wouldn't get the medical at 100% for his neck, that's also true he wouldn't have but they wrote it up for his knee cause it was basically bone on bone inside. I think they decided to do him a favor and not put him down as a mental health discharge.

    20:42 UTC


    Try and get my Team Member Fired, Get Deported!

    I am not sure if this is pro revenge, so I will let you all decide (if not let me know and I will move it). I will say in advance sorry for the long one, but the backstory is relevant.

    Back in the early 2010’s I started working for a big internet based company in the UK. The company was opening a new office with a new subdivision in London. When I started there were two team leaders and the office manager. The two teams were the content team and the SEO (Search Engine Optimization) team. I was recruited to be the development team lead (that is web development).

    When I was interviewed for the job, both the office manager and SEO team lead were carrying out the interview. As you do in interviews when they asked if this or that could be done I would respond “Yes of course” or “You know you would get a better result doing X, Y or Z”.

    So, I got offered the job and for the first year there was so much going on. As well as building a team, I also had a portfolio of websites that needed to be redeveloped and redesigned. It was at this point that some red flags started to pop up. I would have the SEO team lead (we will call him Andy), coming to me and telling me that I needed to do things the way he wanted. I would always push back and say no, and give a reason why I was doing things the way I was. Andy would get irate and would complain to the office manager about me. When the office manager would ask me about it I would explain what had happened and why I had said no and the office manager would leave it there because at the end of the day I was the one with the experience in web development not Andy. This happened a few times over the first year and I then realised that the reason that Andy was getting so irate was because he thought that I would be a yes man to him. Sorry buddy, that is not who I am.

    So, now that we have the backstory let’s get into what lead to the revenge.

    Me and the team had been working hard to get two of the new websites completed, and I was due to show them off to the board before they went live. This company’s head office was in another part of the country, and I had to leave the office in London at about lunch time. So, I arrive to the hotel that is across the road from the head office about 4pm and jump on my laptop to start going through the sites to run some tests. I was testing functionality, making sure the look and feel were correct, things like that. Then it happened, we found a major bug that caused a major issue with the functionality of the website. So it is at this point that I am going to introduce the star of our story, Johnny (not real name, but attacked all the same) who was my Senior Developer. Me and Johnny working through the night, me in the hotel room and him in the London office. We finally fixed the bug, about 7am the following day. My meeting with the board was at 10am, so after getting showered, feed and over to the office I started my day with zero hours sleep.

    I go into the meeting and the first thing that is said, is the CEO asking if I was ok (I had meet him a few times and he was a really nice guy). I explained that we had found an issue with the sites yesterday and me and Johnny had worked through the night to fix it before the meeting. Long story short everyone was really impressed and loved the new sites. At the end of the meeting the CEO pulled me aside and thanked me for everything and then told me to go home and get some sleep (it was about a 3 hour train ride to London and then another hour home). I thanked him and when on my way.

    So, after taking my team out for a well-deserved lunch to say thank you. The office manager then organised a night out for the whole office to celebrate on the following Friday. We started off at a fancy bar (not my sort of thing, I am a man of cheap tastes) and then everyone moves on to a small club. I go to the club for a bit, but then leave quite early in the night as I need to get a train home. I say my byes and then head home.

    I come into the office on the Monday and there is something going on. I speak with Emma (Not real name) the content team’s lead. She does not know what is going on, but there are people from head office, HR and others. Then a few minutes later all the team leaders are call into a meeting. We are all squished in one of the small meeting rooms, there is office manager, two members of the HR team from head office and the three team leaders (including myself). So, HR explain that there has been a complaint made against Johnny. A member of the SEO team (we will call him Mark) had called Andy on the Friday saying that Johnny had been making racist comments while everyone was out at the club. Both myself and Emma were taken aback, this was not like Johnny.

    On a side note, I fell that I need to explain the races of people involved. This is just for context and not an attack on anyone involved. Johnny, Emma and I are white British. Andy is African (born in Britain, I believe), and Mark is Indian (once again I believe).

    So, the whole day was spent with HR doing interviews with the other people that were there that night and we then all reconvened towards the end of the day. The result of the interviews were that no one had heard anything like what Mark was saying. So, it was Marks word against Johnny's, this was not acceptable for Andy. He wanted Johnny fired and cried "we could not have someone like that in the office".

    So, both Emma and I looked at each other and though that it was strange that he was so instant on firing Johnny with no evidence. Both the office manager and HR agreed, and Johnny was let off with a warning and to be aware in the future of how things he says that could be mis-interpreted.

    Life went back to normal in the office, that is until about two months later. The story of what had happened had gone round the office (about 12 people). Then one afternoon, I was pulled aside by one of the guys on the content team and he said that he had over heard Andy and Mark talking and thought I should know. We went into on of the meeting rooms and he laid everything out.

    What I heard made my blood boil and I think had I been in a cartoon steam would have been erupting from my ears. He told me that the racism complaint was faked and a plan that Andy had to attack my team because I would not bend to his demands. Him and Mark we on a call outside the club (Andy was not there that night) and that is when he heard what they were doing. It later came out that their plan was to make the complaint against Johnny and get him fired which would then lead on to Andy complaining that I was not fit to run a team if I let that sort of this happen under my leadership.

    My first question was why he didn’t bring this up with HR in the interviews, he said that he did but it was his word against both Andy and Mark. I thanked him for this and went on with what I was doing. I WAS PISSED!!!!!!! There was no way that I was going to let the slide, but I knew that if I was going to go after them, I needed to have everything in place before hand. I didn’t tell Johnny what I had been told and asked the guy that told me to keep it to himself for now. I didn’t want Johnny to get pissed off and do something that would get him fired or worse affect any revenge I could dish out.

    So, I watched. I watched everything the SEO team did (and didn’t) do. Then it happened, it was like angles had descended from heaven to deliver me the winning lottery ticket.

    The building we were in was a three story building with a main stair well with a door on each floor to the offices. The stair well also lead to a door out to the street . At the time I was a casual smoker and used it to get a break from the screen and clear my head if something I was working on was not going well. So, I walk out of the door to the office and into the stair well and who is there…. Mark of all people.

    He is on the phone, and he goes white as a sheet when he sees me. Now he is mid-sentence with the person on the other end of the phone and as I am walking past, he is forced to carry on the conversation. I overhear, and from what he is saying I can tell that he is talking to a school or something like that. The conversation sounding like he was looking for information about applying and about a visa. I thought that was a strange call to be having and something was fishy about it.

    I had my suspicions as to what was going on, but nothing concreate at this time. A few days later I was heading back up to the head office and by that time we had a new office manager who lived near the head office so was based there most of the time. When I got there, I dropped my things off at the hotel and headed over to the office. I went to his desk and ask to have a quick chat. I explained to him what I had over heard Mark talking about on the phone and said that maybe the company might like to look at his visa status.

    So, a week went by and nothing seemed to happen…… then BAM!!!!! He stopped showing up to the office. A few days later I got told what had happened from one of the other SEO team members. Mark had been fired with immediate effect for no longer having the correct visa to work in the UK (the company did not want to get involved in sponsoring a new visa for him, I don't know why). I started asking questions around the office (random chit chat) and I found out that Mark is from Dubai and he was here on his wife’s student visa (I don’t know how that works, but it was all above board). I also found out that his wife’s course had finished and that left them with a small window of time to get a new visa.

    That is when it all clicked.

    Now there are some doggy people in London (and everywhere else) and they would setup these fake collages that would sign people up to get visas to live and work in to UK. At some point before or after this saw a program on this and normally these were setup in tiny offices that you couldn’t swing a cat in let alone be a collage. They were used as postal addressed for the "collage", and they would charge a “course fee” to be enrolled and thus be able to apply for a student visa.

    So, what Mark was trying to do is to get “enrolled” in one of these “collages” so that he could stay in the UK and carry on working.

    I found out a few weeks later that Mark and his wife did have to leave the UK and go back to Dubai because he didn’t have any money coming in to pay for his new “collage” course. BYE MARK!!!!!!!!

    When I found out that Mark had been let go, I pulled Johnny aside and filled him in on everything. He could not believe it and was stunned that they would try and do that. I apologised to him as it was my fault that he had been targeted by them in a way to get at me. He would not accept it and said that I had gone above and beyond in defending him.

    Following on from this I made it quite clear to Andy that I know what he and Mark had done, and I would not be forgetting it and to watch his back (I made sure we were not in ear shot of anyone else). About two months later Andy handed in his notice and left the company, never to be seen or heard from again.

    I have told this story to some people over the years, and I have been asked so many times if I feel guilty for what I did. I always respond the same way,

    “I feel guilty that Johnny, was wrongfully accused and targeted. I don’t feel guilty about what I did to Mark. You don’t mess with my friends, family or team.”

    17:44 UTC


    Metered On Ramps

    Back when metered on ramps were first installed on the main highway in my town in Oregon, the interval between lights on the ramp I used daily was 15 seconds. Cars would be backed up onto the adjacent feeder streets, and you could be stuck for 15-20 minutes on the ramp.

    Took a bit of research to find out that it wasn't the City or County, but ODOT (Oregon Department of Transportation) that controlled them.

    After repeated complaints and no action, I finally got the names of the two ODOT Traffic Engineers responsible for setting the light intervals.

    I made numerous voice mails, and finally, had one discussion, but still no fix to the issue.

    Well, back in the day (early 2000s), we still had phone books, and both these Engineers had listed home phone numbers.

    I got a 4x8 piece of plywood and painted & lettered it:

    "Tired of these idiotic ramp lights?

    Call the ODOT Engineers responsible for them.

    Dennis Mxxxxxxx 503 xxx xxxx

    Bill Cxx 503 xxx xxxx

    And let them know what you think."

    I stood with it on the side of the ramp for 2 days, 4pm to 6pm.

    The next day, I get a call from one of them (don't remember which) begging me to stop.

    I said "Fix the fucking lights"

    "You'll stop with the sign?"

    "Fix the fucking lights"


    The very next day, they had a survey crew out there in the afternoon to count cars, and the day after that, the lights were reset to 3 seconds between cars.

    Bottom line...when dealing with government, until those personally responsible are held accountable in a manner that inconveniences or scares them, they will continue to abuse the public, whether from negligence, incompetence or malice. But bring it home to them, and they will (grudgingly) change their ways.

    09:19 UTC


    So sue me...can do

    I originally posted the story in malicious compliance and a few were saying it would be great here and at r/nuclearrevenge

    I am a military veteran who was injured in Iraq, I mention only because it is important to the story.
    I worked for this company I say company but in reality it was a guy who owned a few businesses and he was the richest person in a very small town. It's important to say how I made it to this situation, I will try and make it quick so I can get to the steak and taters as it where. I joined the military before I even completed highschool late birthdays and all of that. I choose a military career path that I figured I would enjoy and since I love working on things I became a mechanic. It offered a great sign on bonus so that was a bonus. I went through basic only ever spending money on necessities so saved up quite a lot. Saved even more through advanced training for my mos (military job) by the time I was done with both I had half of my sign on bonus and just short of an entire years pay in my bank account. At my age most would have splurged I invested in the stock market Bitcoin and paid off my parents house. A couple of deployments the other half of my bonus and the only thing I really ever spent money on outside of necessities was my hotrod. Needless to say I had some money saved up and invested it also. Long story short when I discharged I was pretty comfortable even after a nasty divorce.
    Don't get me wrong I didn't/don't have stupid money but because of the divorces a lot of stocks were cashed out split and if anyone follows Bitcoin over the past two decades you know how that turned out. After my divorce I worked to recover what I lost and then just to keep busy. Like I said I love working as a mechanic and would bounce around where ever I felt like since a good mechanic can make money anywhere.
    After a decade of this I decided to set roots in a small town since it would be nice and quiet. By this point I was tired of always working on others people cars and wanted to devote time to working on my car. I bought a small house and saw a help wanted sign at the local lube shop. Figured it would be simple work for me and be something to cover my few expenses.
    I grab an application from the office getting all kinds of looks from the townies. Btw I am 6'3 since I discharged from the military I stopped cutting my hair and shaving and I have one full sleeve. Needless to say most people cross the street instead of walk past.
    When I went to turn in my application to we will call her Sue the bookkeeper she ask me a couple of questions noticed I checked I was a veteran and puts a y on my application. Later that day sue calls me and ask if I would come back in to meet the owner let's call him Peter. I agree and sue says Peter will be there in an hour so if I come in then we can talk about the position.
    I show up and Peters eyes bulge at first sight but we get to chatting and my southern charm wins him over, he tossed me a calendar that he had made of his car collection and ask me to name of the ones I recognized. There were a couple of mustangs a Ford gt a bricklin sv-1 a judge a demon a Pantera and a mxt. He was impressed that I knew what the sv-1 was and we chatted cars for a bit. He offered me the position and explained that I would be paid $100 dollars a day and that I would work mon-sat from 8-6 no overtime but I would get a full days pay even if we closed shop early for some reason, and eat when I could. I would be off every Sunday and one extra day during the week.
    Awesome start and work maybe a year no issues. Peter ask if I could help him out by being a relief worker for his other lube shops in neighboring towns, he says he will give me $20 every day for travel and basically I would be covering so guys could take days off at the other stores. I agreed and did this for about a year then disaster strikes Peter meets Karen and falls madly in love in the span of a month they are married and he starts supporting her and her gambling problem.
    This is when all of the problems start, one week I notice my paycheck was only $250 and ask about it, sue tells me apparently there have been some changes and I should really speak to Peter about it. Sure no problem I call up Peter and ask if we can talk about somethings. He shows up with Karen in tow and when I asked why my pay was short he tells me it was because of the bad weather and us closing early affected the business, I would have let it go at that because Peter was a nice guy but Karen decided to speak. " It isn't very fair to us to have to pay you for a full day if you don't work the full ten hours." I said that would be true if I wasn't on a negotiated day rate and if I get paid for each day I work not hourly that why I don't get paid 19 hrs overtime each week. She claims that's not how it works anymore that from now on I would be paid for the hours I worked and nothing else. Ok what ever you say Karen.
    Fast forward to the next week we had a weeks worth of very busy days were we were open a couple hours later than normal to finish up with waiting customers. And I gave up one of my days off to cover for a sick coworker. So when what should have easily been over an $800 paycheck was only $600 I had some questions. I called Peter and asked him what was going on why I only got paid $600 and he says well that's what we agreed on a $100 a day. I look at him blankly and ask if he forgot about last week and he asked what about it I reminded him and he just says it is what it is.
    Ok so at this point I am aggravated and that is when Karen walks and and ask so what is he bitching about now. I look at her coldly and say well I worked 80 hours last week and yall only paid me $600 she looks at me and says "you're contracted labor and you agreed to $100 per day so why would we pay you more than that." I look at Peter and ask is that how it is he just says you heard the lady.
    I went home and convinced myself that I was only working to cover my few living expenses anyway the job isn't that hard. The only other things in this small town would have been assembling sheds or slinging chickens at a chicken plant.
    The next week one of the guys I work with is getting yelled at in front of customers by Karen about what she claims is an OSHA violation. She claims that as part owner of the company it his her responsibility to ensure that all OSHA regulations are met and his apparent violation was him wearing tinted safety glasses. Now this is BS because the bays faced east west and with how the cars pulled in top workers got the sun during the day and the pit worker got it in the evening I shake my head as I am walking in and like a T-Rex in a dinosaur movie it attracted karens attention and she decides to shout at me "you got something to say you big bitch" and I just kept walking.
    I told Sue she needed to have a long talk with Peter before karens mouth wrote checks he would have to cash and she says I just keep the books don't involve me. So this behavior goes on another year and finally I am at my limit.
    On the day I started my malicious compliance I was in a very bad mood. I had woken up to news that a good friend of mine that was responsible for me surviving being blown up in Iraq was taken out by a drunk driver. Not wanting to deal with anyone I tell the shop I will be working pit all day and to just let me be these guys have been working with me a few years now and know something is up. I never once thought that this would be a day that I would need to deal with Karen, since I was working at the furthest shop from the main shop and it was in the opposite direction of the casinos. But I wasn't so lucky or maybe I was, Peter and Karen show up and she storms into the pit and scream Peter come look at this mess. I have no idea what she is talking about about because I always kept the pit spotless and would clean as I worked were a lot of others would clean at the end of the day. Her complaint was about 50 of the most common oil filters we would use in a day being stacked on my waste drums for easy access to me so I wouldn't have to wait to the top guys to hand me filters. I did this all of the time and Peter knew about it and never cared before he comes down looks around and tells me like he is talking to a teenager "clean up this pigsty. I shake my head and say todays not the day Peter move on and take her with you.
    This apparently infuriated Karen who of course thought it was the utmost disrespect to her and Peter, and he tells me if I don't like it I am free to leave so I left. Now don't freak out this story isn't over yet that it just the first flap of the butterflies wings that started a massive shit storm. The next day Peter calls me and ask me to swing by the main store on my way home. I think he is going to apologize about the day before figured one of the other guys might have told him why I was so on edge. No that was not what this was about. Peter was calling me in to inform me that for the next six months I would be on a probation period for my actions and for these 6 months I would only be paid $50 a day and I wouldn't receive the normal $20 a day I received for driving to the other shops. I ask if he is serious about this and if he has seriously considered what he was doing.
    This is when peters let his true colors shine he tells me I am lucky I wasn't fired for my constant disrespect towards him and the co owner Karen how if he didn't pitty me for being a struggling disabled veteran (I never once discussed my money with anyone I worked with why Peter thought I was broke and desperate was solely based on my appearance from what I could tell.)he would have fired me long ago. Something inside me snapped and I just started laughing he asked me what I thought was so funny and I stood to my full height stepped to him like a drill sergeant about to give some wall to wall counseling and say you should re consider your life choices and who you choose to go into business with. Peter then says "what you gonna sue me or something go ahead if you think you can afford to what do you get from the va like $1000 dollars a month I know how bad you need this job."
    That wasn't my plan but it kicked in my malicious compliance and since I will always be a solider to go to war. That day I called a labor lawyer paid the 3k retainer and started my lawsuit for unsafe work environment, unpaid overtime, and minimum wage violations. All while continuing to work for him it was glorious but still not enough. It took about the 6months of my probation for the lawyer to get off of the paperwork together and filed slow rolling it on my request and this lawyer was a former marine so I think he had an idea of what I had in mind.
    After everything was ready my lawyer filed the paperwork and Peter and Karen were served at the main store while I was at work. They read the paperwork and the process server for my lawyer stuck around to be a witness to what I knew would be coming. When they read that I was suing them Karen and Peter flipped Peter shouts I should kick your ass you ungrateful piece of shit and Karen screams you're fucking fired you pussy I bet you weren't even really in the military.
    The process server recorded everything gave it to my lawyer who added to the law suit unlawful termination because it is illegal to fire an employee because they are suing you.
    The next day I opened up my lube shop carwash combo and started recruiting my former co-workers at higher pay plus commission. They also wanted to jump in on the lawsuit and my lawyer was more than happy to add them to it.
    So 2 years down the road after subpoenas to get security footage from the shops, the books going back five years, and sworn testimonies we go to a mediation to settle they offer a measley 50k to split between the 15 of us on the lawsuit when that didn't even cover the unpaid overtime.
    We declined then our apache came in to save the day
    sent by the IRS delivered to my lawyer because of request for the company's tax documents. Peter held each lube shop as it's own individual llc each with it's own tax id and employment record. Peter and Karen thought it would be a smart move to file for a tax credit for employing a veteran at each of the 6 shops. In their filing they claimed that they employed a veteran me as a full time employee working a minimum 36hrs a week at rate of $12/hr.(the government gives a tax brake to companies that employee veterans)
    At the next mediation my lawyer presented the reports to their lawyer and the mediator and after a quick 20min discussion Peter and Karen came back and agreed to settle at our request of 400k in unpaid overtime to be split between 15 of us all legal fees and a personal settlement for the unlawful termination suit of 20k for each shop I was listed as an employee at as well as unpaid wages for the six months I was only paid $5 an hour. Their only demand was that we all agree to a gag order so that nothing would leave the mediators table.
    Of course we signed and we took our paychecks. But some how their tax paperwork made its way to just the right person at the IRS and they decided to audit Peter and Karen. And and investigation was opened on them for tax fraud.
    I sold the shop I opened to the guys that came over and jumped in on the lawsuit they each paid me 8k and I washed my hands of it. I put my house up for sale and moved away.
    I did go back about 8 months later because the guy who was supposed to take care of the lawn had apparently been arrested and the yard went a few months without being cut before the city informed me that they were going to fine me $100 a day until it was brought to code so I went down to mow it my self while there I decided to check in with my realtor to see if there was anything we could do about yard maintenance and who do I see but little ol sue sitting pretty at the front desk.
    Sue couldn't speak fast enough to tell me what all had happened and it was perfect. What I thought was an Apache turned out to be an atom bomb, Peter filed bankruptcy to try and not go broke after making a plea deal for probation for tax fraud and paying a ton in unpaid taxes Karen took off with some dude she met at a casino. I asked sue two questions if she knew who reported the fraudulent tax paperwork to the IRS and what happened with peters car collection she told me I have no idea and to check the parking behind the realtors office before leaving. On my way out I took a peak behind the realtors office to see a safety green sv-1 sitting there. Apparently Peter started selling off his cars early and cheap hoping he would be able to buy them back after filing bankruptcy.
    To this day I have no idea who if anyone actually turned in the paperwork to the IRS. My personal theory is who ever was tasked with compiling it all with their claims noticed something strange and reported it. How ever it happened it couldn't have happened to anyone more deserving

    08:25 UTC


    Landlord screwed with the wrong tenant for too long

    This will be decently long as it needs some context. I'm going to throw in a lot of stuff to make it all easier to understand as well. I'll put a *** where the story proper starts, in case anyone wants to skip the preamble.

    Minor details might not be entirely accurate as I've no interest in a revival of this conflict on any level. I won completely, and any resurrection can only taint the experience.

    We'll start off by noting that I spent about 2 decades working in security. During that time I worked many different types of security in many different locations. The one that matters for this story was time spent in the Rental Housing Tribunal in a major city, as a kind of bailiff.

    For those not knowing what that is, think a court room (in a major city anyway, in a smaller town it'll probably be an event room in a hotel or community centre) as you'd see on tv but with less formality and an adjudicator instead of a judge. They functionally are the same thing to landlords and tenants, but they definitely aren't the same thing. This place exclusively deals with landlord and tenant disputes, and is the only place to resolve landlord and tenant disputes.

    Note that I wasn't a bailiff, and it wasn't a court, but these terms mostly accurately describe the situation and my place in it.

    For 2 years I worked at the Rental Housing Tribunal, it was early in my time in security I was 18-20ish. Being as it was a major city, the sheer number of cases I sat through was beyond my ability to count. I saw everything there was to see. Noone is capable of surprising me with a story because I've seen them all. In detail, as a side duty of mine was to ensure all parties had copies of all evidence being presented. I did a lot of photocopying, and always read/inspected everything I copied to ensure nothing got cut off or made illegible.

    By the time I stopped working there I probably knew the way everything worked well enough to be an adjudicator myself. Well no obviously not, but I'm certainly in no need of a lawyer either should I ever have need to go there.

    I also had intimate knowledge of how the system worked beyond the actual rules. Like, for example, adjudicators would always give a little leeway to anyone representing themselves over someone who had a lawyer. Or how pissed off adjudicators would get when a party was speaking out of turn. Seriously do not do that.


    Skip forward almost a decade. I left the city and am in a fairly large town in the same Province (same tenant laws). I have a few roommates in a decently sized townhouse. We get along well. But there's a problem. Only I can write cheques, and our paydays don't line up. So I'm the one who pays the rent, and I usually can't do it on the 1st because roommates don't usually all pay in time. We advise the landlord we might be a day or two late but we'll always have it by the 3rd at the latest. They have no problem with it at all, I spoke to them myself.

    For about a year this works fine. No complaints from landlord because even if we're often a day or 2 late, we always pay. We're also fairly quiet and don't damage the property. Nearly model tenants.

    I do not actually have any idea why, but one day this changed. I suspect a different person in the company started overseeing the region. One day, suddenly we got a summons to the Rental Housing Tribunal (hereafter to be referred to as RHT) on the 2nd of the month for failure to pay rent. This doesn't actually lead to a case because we paid the same day. But now we have to pay the application fee the landlord paid in order to serve the summons. I bitched to the neighbour who was also the superintendent and eventually heard back that their contact at the company was now demanding 1st of the month no exceptions.

    Well that really didn't work for us, so we probably had to pay that fee 15-20 times over the next 2 years. I could have gone to tribunal over it but we were technically without a leg to stand on and I knew it. Maybe if I went enough times I can ding them for harassment but I don't have time for that and my roommates don't care. After being split between us all the fee wasn't enough deterrent to change our behaviour so we accepted it.

    If this was the only issue, there wouldn't be much story though. At around the same time the rent leeway vanished, so did mandatory maintenance. I'm not going to list everything that went wrong and wasn't fixed. You'll get a decent idea at the end.

    We suffered through it. We were all working too many hours at shit pay to be able to actually do anything about it. We adapted.

    But after about 2 years it broke. Everyone but me up and moved out for various reasons within a 4 month period. I'm not going into any details on my roommates at all because things kinda exploded for a couple different reasons outside of this. No reason to dig any of that up.

    I had been saving up awhile and was able to quit my job without having to immediately get another so I suddenly had a lot of time. I didn't want to stay and pay the rent by myself or have to find new roommates I could live with, and with my experience in the RHT I knew I had the landlord by the balls.

    So I went for them. I stopped paying rent. Annoyingly I didn't get a summons the 1st month. But I did the 2nd. So I went. With a meticulously documented plethora of evidence of failure to maintain the property and entering the property without formal notice. I had a copy for the landlord and a copy for the adjudicator. I know from experience that technically you're supposed to give the other party the evidence before the tribunal, but I also knew about that leeway an adjudicator gives to those who represent themselves. So I didn't give the landlord the evidence until our case came up, 100% total ambush.

    They argued they were ambushed, but the adjudicator just dismissed the case, dressed me down a little, and told me to file my own summons as I should have done. This was the petty revenge. The landlord and lawyer drove 3 hours to get there, for nothing. Worse than nothing.

    I filed my own summons, and the big day shows up. It's been about 4 months of me not paying rent at this point. I'm prepared to if I lose, but I don't think I'm going to lose.

    The whole thing could not have gone better. I had 20-30 pages of evidence and 20 odd photographs, they had nothing. They had no actual defence for our water heater being out for 6 months or us not having a fridge for a year, just to mention 2 severe issues. Their entire defence rested on us being late for rent, which actually worked against them once that led to the adjudicator learning how many times we'd paid the application fee, and lies that had no evidence to support them. They even talked over me a few times, and I SAW IN HIS EYES the one time I opened my mouth to protest during their turn to speak but forced myself to shut up with every gram of willpower I had so only a squeak came out, the adjudicator respected me. He had no respect for the landlord. I had won on every possible front. The only question was how much.

    It was more than I'd ever seen. I got 9 months of free rent, and the landlord was ordered to have everything fixed before the next month was over or I'd get more. I gave notice I was leaving at the end of the 8th month and left at the end of the 9th. Because the landlord had never renewed the lease I didn't have to give him the 3 month notice the lease specified.

    If you want a figure to put to it, I basically got a $13,000 judgement in my favour, adjusted for inflation and rounded. I also made the landlord and lawyer drive 3 hours, twice, only to lose. The landlords face was so red at the end I thought he'd have a heart attack. He didn't though. Bye Mark!

    Edit to clarify a few things based on questions.

    I also want to add for those good landlords out there, I do feel you. My time in the RHT was eye opening. For every bad landlord there are 10 bad tenants easily. There's a massive debate of debates to have over the whole thing I'll only say that I do sympathize with the good landlords out there. I'm not trying to paint all landlords as terrible. This is the only landlord I've ever had that was so useless.


    I've revised my estimate of the ratio based on a little research and some comments from 30 tenants per landlord to 10. I'm probably still wrong, but the sheer number disparity between landlords and tenants effectively requires there be more bad tenants than bad landlords simply because there are so many more tenants than landlords. I'm going to leave it at that and just beg you not to rip me apart from either side. I'm intimately aware of the problems both good landlords and good tenants face and my sympathy goes out to both sides.

    10:15 UTC


    Stick me with hidden charges? I'll show you...

    So this past Christmas, my missus and I purchased one of our 9yr old son's Santa gifts from a certain UK sports retail company that also have many stores here in Ireland as well. It was a football rebounder, kinda like a trampoline that you kick the ball at and it bounces back to you. Anyway we purchased it from their Irish website and thought nothing more of it. A few days go by and we get a notification from a certain brown uniformed courier company that there are customs charges due on something, and as you can imagine we've bought many things for the kids so we had to double check what we've ordered and we didn't have anything left that was being imported so we naturally assumed it was a scam, so I told the wife to call the company and find out who shipped it and it was a different courier company based in the UK. After a bit of digging and investigating it turns out that it's our rebounder. They had shipped it from the UK, via a local carrier, to the brown uniformed guys to deliver to us.

    Now, my wife and I are both on disability so an additional charge of almost €50 when you're both already on a fixed income is harsh, especially at Christmas so I told her to pay it and I'd deal with the retailer. The first day I called I had to call 3 times being stuck on hold for at least 20 minutes each time but I was patient and polite because I've worked in a call centre before so I knew those people are only doing their job, but I asked to speak to a manager and was promised a call back each time that never happened. The 2nd day was quite similar. The 3rd day I was starting to get annoyed so called back, waiting even longer on hold and finally wasn't taking this shit any longer. I told the rep that all I wanted was the €50 back because our consumer rights in Ireland dictate that a person must be informed of any additional charges on a purchase, at the very latest, by the final checkout screen, and in this case there was nothing to show that, and I could easily replicate that issue by putting the same item in my basket and going all the way to the checkout screen again and there was nothing saying we'd have to pay import charges. The rep was indifferent to the situation but tried to "help" and what he said sent me over the edge. He offered me a measley €20 gift voucher to use on their website, but more importantly he read a statement to me. He said "we advise our customers that there may be DDU charges (Delivery Duty Unpaid, i.e. customs charges) on any item that gets shipped outside of the UK." Then I asked him where it states this information and he paused, then said he didn't actually know. I said "Well I know 1 thing, it doesn't say it anywhere on this transaction because I've checked and because this is a violation of my consumer rights i'm going to give your company 1 last chance to make this right. Have your manager call me within the next 60 minutes or I'm going to post this entire debacle on LinkedIn and link every senior officer in your company!" Then I hung up the phone and waited....... Yet again, no call.

    The next day I went on LinkedIn and followed through on my promise. I created a post detailing what they had done by sticking us with hidden charges and that they were ignoring our requests for a manager, and everything they said and did. Then I tagged EVERY senior officer at that company from the regional managers, through the European directors, all the way to the CEO, and I shamed them for how they operate their company. This, ladies and gentlemen, was now an act of war.

    Shortly after I posted that I noticed that they took down the item from their website in an attempt to hide this but they must have thought in a simpleton that doesn't understand how the internet works. They didn't realise that when you searched for "rebounder" on their site, that it shows the item in question so I took a screenshot of that, then another of the item page that was now "missing", but then I did a Google cached search for the same page and found a version from 2 days prior happily showing the item. Then I added a comment to my original post highlighting how they were trying to hide it, with the evidence, and trolling them for their heinous behaviour ESPECIALLY at Christmas. Then I tagged and shamed all the senior officers again, and at this point it was really starting to get some attention, not only publicly, but 3 people in "incognito mode" viewed my profile....I wonder who they could have been....... So naturally I took a screenshot of the 3 mysterious visitors listed on my profile and did the same thing. Commented on my own post highlighting it and trolling them for their incompetence.

    The next morning I got a call from a senior exec at their head office in the UK practically licking my boots with apologies, asking what she can do to make this right. I told her I originally only wanted my €50 back as it wasn't fair, nor even legal, that I had to pay it, but since I had to go to such lengths to get their attention now I wanted my €50 back, a full refund on my entire purchase, AND I wanted to keep the product. That was the only thing that would make this go away. She asked for a couple of hours to fix it and I said ok.

    About an hour later I got another call from her again apologising. She asked for my PayPal address where she sent the €50, then she refunded the whole purchase, and she let us keep the product. Obviously I thanked her for her help because at that stage I was just happy it was over, but I'll be fucked if I'll let anyone walk all over my family, even if they are a £58,000,000 annual company.

    The most of the story here is, don't take bullshit from anyone. I may be just 1 man, but my sons view of Santa is FAR more valuable to me than the opinion of some retail chain that doesn't care about it's customers nor how it operates ethically.

    08:23 UTC


    Sister wants to walk down the aisle at my wedding. We use that to our advantage

    Here I am, writing this long tale in my honeymoon, but it does feel cathartic to finally type it out, and my husband is more excited about this than the resort drinks, lol Anyway, this is a throwaway because I don't have a reddit account and my husband, the reddit fanatic, said he doesn't want this associated with his main. As to why the reddit guy isn't the one writing this, it's because he said "since it's my family, I should be the one with the honor of posting the story", but he is looking over my shoulder to help out.

    I'm not a lawyer so I don't know if this works but: I do not give permission for this to be reposted anywhere else

    So, I think first it's necessary to give some background, to explain how this behavior reached this level, and why our responses were as they were. It's a long read, I apologize.

    So, ever since I could remember, my parents loved my sister more.

    I don't mean in subtle ways either. If my sister accused me of something, they'd believe it and punish me. If I accused her, they wouldn't believe. Even if there was undeniable proof, they'd still give her a lesser punishment and try to find a way to scold me in tandem.

    My birthday cake had to be a flavor she wanted. Hers did not, and my parents always denied knowing I didn't like that type of cake. They always bought her a bit more than for me. We went to where she wanted, even if it was an event that should be about me.

    My sister grew up spoiled and didn't like me, just used me as a punching back. But at first she mostly ignored me. But then it got really bad when we were young teens.

    I'm not sure what the cause and effect are, but she found herself with no friends and her behavior got worse. Did her friends move, did they ditch her because she was mean? I don't know, because we were never close and my parents loved to boast about her achievements but never ever mentioned any issues (whereas with me, they loved to bring out any flaws of mine constantly as 'teasing' material). I only knew she had none because we went to the same school and I noticed her no longer walking around with people.

    Anyway, she had no friends. I did. I used to be decently popular. My sister realized that and suddenly I stopped being the occasional punching bag to a hated person she needed to take down at all times. She started accusing me of more stuff. She accused my friends of more stuff. My parents stopped allowing me to hang out with anyone, the excuses ranging from "they're not good people according to your sister" to "why are you trying to leave us, why cant you be like your sister and enjoy family time?".

    What saved me from complete isolation was extended family. Most of my family lived in the same hometown, and I got along with my cousins despite some age difference. At one gathering, they invited me over to something (I don't remember what), and I sadly replied I'm not allowed to go anywhere. When asked why, my kid self with no filter replied that it was because I wasn't allowed to have friends since my sister didn't have any.

    Well, that reached the adults. Who apparently tore my parents apart. Later I was scolded for lying and grounded (as if I had anywhere to go) for a month. But after that they allowed me some leeway, so it was worth it.

    And my sister changed schools. I guess the humiliation of extended family knowing her social status was bad and she demanded to be changed. And my parents immediately obliged, even though it cost them more since the school was further away. But she made friends on the new school. However, she never went back to the previous status quo of mostly ignoring me. I guess having felt the power of how badly she could screw with me, and anger that I told family she had no friends, she never let me go.

    My life was still bad. Her friends would come over and bully me and my parents called it light teasing. I never called friends over because my parents were awful hosts to them, or my sister would accuse them of taking stuff and they'd believe it. I did become close to my cousins though, since my parents never dared do any of that to family.

    And then I got my first boyfriend. I didn't want to bring him home at all, but my parents insisted. Well, at one point we were separated and he came to find me to tell me my sister was flirting with him. By which he meant, she came over with skimpy clothing, batting her eyelashes really badly and started telling him how bad I was and how good she was. He was irked and ran off to find me.

    Of course, my sister told my parents a different tale: that my bf had instead tried to flirt with her, but she naturally refused since how could she do that to me. Guess who my parents believed.

    Now, my bf wasn't perfect but... I immediately believed him. For a mean reason. But remember that back then I was a teen and suffering from the unfair bad treatment. I was very resentful and moody and now hated my sister as much as she hated me. With that disclaimer out of the way... let's talk about looks. I hadn't mentioned them yet because they weren't relevant. My parents were/are overweight. And since they liked showing love via food (giving you more food, buying treats etc), my sister was/is also overweight, whereas I was/am not (in fact I've always been kind of skinny because punishment often included no treats or snacks). OBVIOUSLY, weight isn't what matters, personality is. But my sister even then was already rude and spoiled, even her flirting attempts were bad because she never learned to work for anything since she could demand and my parents would deliver. Added to that the fact that she didn't look like some sexy model... even my self conscious teen self didn't believe my bf would try and cheat on me with her.

    Anyway, my parents prohibited me from dating such a horrible boy. I did try to keep going in secret but it was hard and the relationship ended. I did get another, but again my sister accused him of flirting with her when he refused her advances. Again my parents believed her. I tried pointing out how this happened again, but they decided that meant I was incapable of making good choices and kept picking bad boyfriends. The relationship couldn't handle the romeo juliet situation, and fizzled out again. I would eventually get called a slut in highschool, as I was fine with making out with boys and such but refused to have relationships. Thankfully it never got back to my sister or parents.

    My sister did bring one boyfriend home during all this time. He was paraded with pride, and my parents spent every second telling me how good he was, and why couldn't I be like my sister and find myself someone like that. Until he stopped showing up, and suddenly he was conniving bastard that tricked my sister. Oh well.

    And the unequal treatment continued at this time. She had more spending money, her curfews were much better than mine, she was free to go anywhere at anytime while I couldn't. If I pointed it out, my parents would say it's because she's older. But when I reached that age, I still didn't have the same treatment she had, and when pointed out, they'd deny they ever said that or claim it was because I couldn't be trusted like she was (using my sister's accusations against my bf and friends as proof of my bad judgment).

    Time goes by, and it's time for my sister to graduate. She was accepted into a college. Not a very well regarded one, and she had no scholarship or anything. Again, because only her achievements were told to me, I don't know which colleges she even tried for, so I can't say how badly she was rejected. I do know her grades were bad in school though, because whenever she got a B we would celebrate (I would usually get good grades but my parents refused to celebrate, claiming since I always got those, what was there to celebrate?). My parents, naturally, made a lot of fanfare and told her they'd pay for everything. I was relieved she'd be going away. Not that it made my life any easier. She'd always come home every other weekend and somehow stuff kept missing from her room or some other issue she'd think of to make my life miserable. My curfews were still strict, etc.

    Eventually, my mom came to talk to me about my impending graduation (I'm only a year younger than my sister). She told me since they were paying for my sister's college, they had no money to pay for mine. So it would be "better" for me to start working immediately after graduation and waiting until my sister finished uni to see if they could afford something for me. Oh, and if I decided to stay at home, I'd have to pay for all my stuff, part of the bills, and rent.

    I pointed out I could get student loans. Mom said yes... except no. That is, because they were so caring towards me, and I had such bad judgement, they would decide if a college was worth my getting in debt or not. I'm not sure how they'd stop me from getting loans, but I didn't ask. Scholarships weren't mentioned. They had no idea what my grades were anymore, and never believed in my capabilities.

    Anyway, I didn't bat an eyelid. I simply said okay. My mom clearly didn't expect that and kept pushing. Maybe she hoped I'd throw a tantrum so they'd have an excuse to not ever pay for my college. But I said nothing except I understood their position, thanked them for caring and that was that. My dad later tried the same but I also refused to be emotional.

    You see, after a whole lifetime of their terrible parenting, I NEVER had any expectations towards my education. I knew they would find an excuse to not pay for mine and make my life miserable. I never believed they would eventually pay it if I worked and waited for my sister to graduate. I had been preparing for college for a long time. I could barely go out, my friendships were slim, so I had a lot of time to study. And study I did, because I saw college as my only chance to be free.

    Well, the time came and I worked my ass off and got a scholarship. Not to anywhere like Ivy league or anything like law or medical school. But it was a good enough course, in a decent college, with a full scholarship. Knowing my sister would hate it and try to stop me via parents, I put my achievement in social media at the same time I told them. Even forced myself to thank them in the post. Now they couldn't forbid me from going, as they'd have to explain to family why not. Initially they were even a little proud and boasting about it.

    And then I guess my sister got to them, and they changed gears and even asked me if I was sure I wanted to go. They let slip my sister wasn't doing well in college, and since she was smarter and had better judgement than me, I'd suffer worse. I obviously stuck to my guns. They weren't happy but couldn't do anything.

    College was my savior. I started being happy. I still contacted my parents and visited on holidays and such, but since they refused to pay for anything, I could excuse not going a lot due to money. During this time, I avoided introducing any man to them. And my sister stopped going to college (I know she didn't graduate because, again, they'd have made a fanfare about it), moved back home (paying no bills or rent but "it's different" my parents said) and started working at the same company as my mom, obviously thanks to my mom pulling strings. This was all sold to me as a source of pride. Oh well.

    Almost there I promise!

    I met my husband around this time. You know those people that say that "if I was in X situation, I'd have done something"? My husband is the type that really does. I'm the person that is meek and a doormat in any situation and then can't sleep at night wishing I had done something, had thought of something witty to say etc. I'm the person that can't help but cry when I'm angry. My husband is the guy that claps back immediately. He loves drama, in that he loves to resolve it. He's the guy that if he doesn't immediately reply to a slight, you better start worrying because he won't forgive and forget, he's just stewing something worse for revenge. He's the one that wanted me to post here. And wanted to post on a nuclear revenge board too, but decided what we did wasn't nuclear.

    People were baffled I got together with him. But just because I was incapable (thanks to my upbringing probably) of acting like him, it didn't mean I didn't like it. I love that my husband does what I can't. And he treats people well as long as they do the same to him.

    When we discussed marriage, we decided we didn't care much about the ceremony due to our budget, as we'd rather spend on a dream trip to Europe for our honeymoon. As for where to do it, since his family was spread out and mine was still mostly concentrated in my hometown, we decided to do it there. We weren't living too far off either, so we could take some long trips during the weekends to manage stuff. Plus there was some work flexibility, so we could say in my hometown for a bit too if needed. We sent out the engagement announcement and the save the date for a few months later.

    Well, at this point my parents naturally demanded they meet my man. I wanted to grow a spine and refuse, but was having a hard time. The distance had made me think maybe my parents weren't so bad. Well, my husband looked like I cancelled Christmas when I told him I would at least ensure they were never alone with him. See, he had been getting ready for this. He even bought a high quality recorder he could hide in a pocket to record it all. He was stoked, thinking of all the ways he could refuse my sister's advances, insult her, and then spread the recording of her attempts to my family.

    So, off he went alone and excited to meet them. And came back later euphoric. "Babe! Babe! You won't believe the awful shit they wanted! Babe! We can fuck them over so bad, there's so many possibilities!"

    I was confused, and wanted to hear the recording but he, smartly, told me it was better to listen to him first or else I'd misunderstand him.

    Well... he went there, and instead of the flirting, my parents and my sister sat him down. After some grumbling about not being okay with him, my judgement etc, they proclaimed they were willing to pay for my wedding... on one condition. My sister would walk down the isle on my wedding first. In a wedding dress.

    Their excuses were that it wasn't okay for a younger sister to marry first, so it was only fair if my sister had at least the experience of it. On my venue. With pictures being taken, and the dress, and she'd have a cake later too etc.

    My husband will now type his part: hey! vengeaful husband here, hell hath no fury like a prorevenge/instantkarma/nuclearrevenge lurker when his beloved is scorned! That said, as much as my wife (teehee, she's my wife now!!) paints me as this quick witted dude, I admit my neurons all but shortcircuited when those folks legit suggested that shit like some sort of great fucking gift. Even Troy would rather take in the horse a second time, methinks. Alas, after my brain rebooted, I did have a whole ass catalog of insults about to spew out, but something in my soul whispered in my ear like the devil: string these fucks along. So I said I needed to think, see how my wife (back then fiance) would react, and then ran out of there before I could give away my nefarious plans.

    Back to me, the wife: So, my husband sincerely recounted how my parents wanted even my wedding to be about my sister, with a grin on his face. And had the recording to prove it. I was shocked. The distance had softened how bad they treated me. And I thought even they wouldn't go so far. Thankfully, my husband insisting on the angle of revenge helped me not go to a bad headspace. We had a blast thinking up ways to screw them over this. From ridiculously outlandish to what we thought was feasible.

    We then called his much more level headed brother when we decided on a plan. It involved having two venue addresses, giving them the wrong one etc. Well, level headed brother scolded us for it. While he acknowledged he would never be able to convince us from retaliation, he at least showed us something like that would be hard to pull off. Some of our other ideas were also at danger of getting sued.

    So we eventually settled for the most benign plan: Act like we agreed, but then hire security and don't let her in.

    Obviously, if that was all, it wouldn't be prorevenge.

    The rest is all mostly my husband, by he wants me to do the honors so here goes. Just important to mention, everything he did was previously discussed with me, and were our mutual ideas:

    He went back to my parents. Said he probed and thought I wouldn't be down with it. However, he didn't see the issue and, not wanting family to fall apart, would be down to helping them do it.

    He pointed out I don't like conflict, so if I was surprised with it, I might not throw a tantrum in front of all the people. On the other hand, marriage IS a big thing, so who knew if I'd lash out.

    Thus he suggested a compromise: they'd help pay for stuff. This way, I would feel even more pressure to not say anything, as not only would we be public (well, with our families there), but I'd be grateful to the help they gave and that'd mollify me.

    He said my parents looked surprised, by my grown sister starting skipping with joy. Literally so, like a kid. So it was accepted.

    IMPORTANT: my husband also claimed that due to some bad judgement in boyfriends in the past (These words were all my idea and I'm so so proud of using their words against then lol), I was distrustful and controlling and liked to check his phone and stuff to ensure he wasn't cheating on me. As such, it was imperative that NOTHING of this plan was ever put in any writing. For any discussion pertaining to my sister walking down the aisle before me, he'd go over to their house to talk.

    And so began the months of deception. Where my parents and sister thought they were tricking me, and my husband and I were milking them.

    How? Well, rather than pay for the wedding than lay low, of course my parents wanted input in everything.

    Some stuff that meant a lot to me (the songs and color palette), my husband would convince them to let it go to "keep me in line". But since we never really cared for the ceremony to begin with, everything else was game... or so they thought.

    What we did was thus: we'd go, say, to check the drink and menu options. We'd then accept the lowest or second lowest priced option. My husband would then "secretly" take my sister there to also try it out, then sigh and say it's a pity we don't want to abuse my parents goodwill so we wouldn't get the best options.

    Cue my sister demanding my parents pay for the best. My parents would then tell me not to worry and they'd pay for the most expensive. Same was done with photographer.

    Flowers: My husband handed my sister a bouquet of the flowers we wanted, then sadly expressed how I wanted some other, tasteless flowers. Cue my parents telling me they wanted us to go with said flowers and they'd pay for it.

    Wedding dress: we hit a minor snag here. My parents wanted me to use a hideous dress. Okay, not outright hideous, but it wasn't my stile and wouldn't look that good on me. We had planned on saying yes then simply not using it, but my mom sent me a message about it, so there'd be proof I said okay.

    We had to go with me refusing in text, and standing my ground. My husband went over there and said he'd "see what he could do". My sister suggested ruining my desired dress so I'd be forced to wear the other one. He pretended to agree.

    During all this time, they really kept communications outside any text. We made sure that'd happen by, when my sister tried messaging my husband, have me reply to hear. This solidified the "I'm controlling and neurotic" claims my husband was making. So they believed it and never risked anything in writing.

    (And maybe some people might not like the thought of their partner going around and talking badly about them to family. But I'm such a doormat that the thought of being painting as this controlling and dangerous bitch is extremely funny to me, and I egged him on to do it. I guess I have a warped sense of humor lol)

    Oh, and my sister did try to flirt with him, but he acted conflicted.

    Also, to really sell that he was with them, my husband would pretend to tell them things without my knowledge.

    But he never told them we hired security.

    It was really funny. My husband and I, who had sincerely considered a courthouse wedding to focus cost on our honeymoon, having this extravagant, expensive wedding, and barely spending a dime. We called it "backpay for emotional damages" from my parents, lol

    I think my husband (okay, he just confirmed I'm right lol) was enjoying the whole tricking them more than planning our wedding lol I didn't think it was possible to witness a guy beaming at the thought of wasting his whole Saturday doing a car trip to discuss wedding details with his in laws, but here we are.

    Soon the day came. The plan my parents/sister/husband had come up with was: wait until everyone was seated. Since the bride always comes out late, they'd have my sister arrive at that precise time (to avoid me seeing her and trying to stop it), and walk down the isle. By the time I heard what happened, it'd be too late to do anything.

    As for my dress: we saved some of the leftover fabric from my dress alterations, and my husband took that to my parents place (sister still lives with them even now), and showed them as proof he'd ruined the dress. Than said he had to go back to me as I was raging and he needed to calm me down, he'd see them at the wedding.

    We made sure to keep our actual security hidden at first. As the guests and my parents arrived, all they could see was a woman with a list of names to check. Only after my parents arrived and sat down did we bring out security. A guy that looked like a bodyguard. We told him to not allow anyone my sister in, and even agreed on paying a handsome tip if he didn't reveal we told him that.

    Soon the time arrived. My parents got a text my sister was less than 5minutes away, so my dad went and told people to start. My bridesmaids had been told to follow his lead beforehand, so they obeyed without checking with me. After they all went down and took their places, my dad stood up at the entrance, as if waiting for me.

    During this, a friend not in the wedding party texted me to get ready. This because if my husband or bridesmaids etc took out a phone and started texting, people might notice. This friend was in on the plan. She's my husband's friend, as willing to help stir drama as he is and didn't care about being a bridesmaid or anything.

    Well, as soon as my dad took his position, the bridal song started playing, the doors open and... I come in.

    My dad looked aghast at me being there. He tried glancing behind me, but you can't see the venue entrance from where we were, so he couldn't see what happened to my sister.

    And then his phone rang, I saw the caller ID and it was her. He just... left me there with a mumbled "something came up".

    There were gasps and confusion all around. The friend in on it, loudly asked what happened. I lied and in a teary voice said he told me "it wasn't supposed to be me there".

    (It's not what he said, but my husband and I agreed that if he dared leave me, I should say that to make him look the worst possible. As for the tears, I wish I could say it was just my stellar acting, but no. Despite everything, a part of me didn't think he'd go as far as abandon me there. That the sister thing wasn't true but an elaborate joke. I don't know. I was hurt, still am, so I was sincerely trying not to cry)

    The friend then loudly went "What did he mean by it shouldn't be you???" so that as many people as possible could hear and spread it, then went "I Will go and check!" and ran off. We decided to do this to make her create hell with the security and stop my dad from coming back and stopping the ceremony or something. At some point my mom also left.

    At this point, my husband's dad quickly ran over and took my arm. He'd been forewarned he might need to. Watching him run desperately to me helped me smile.

    I walked down the isle to whispers as people discussed what happened. Some apparently left to check too. When I reached my husband though, all was well. He made me feel better joking my sad face was so real I deserved an Oscar, and don't worry, he'd rake them over the coals for what they did lol

    We got married without a hitch. My parents didn't come back. I did notice a lot of people leaving then coming back during the party, but no one dared tell me what was happening. Someone did come and whisper in my husband's ear and he went out. He came back after a while, with a thunderous expression, but whispered in my ear he needed to go hide somewhere before he broke character and started smiling lol

    Well, what happened is... it worked! The following is the summed account from friends, family, the security guy and my husband, that I received afterwards:

    My sister did arrive in a wedding dress. The security refused to let her in. Per our agreement, he claimed she must be in the wrong venue because there was already a bride. And yes, we tipped him really well as promised. My dad went there and tried threatening him with police, claiming he never heard of him, so he couldn't be working there. The security agreed to the police, since he was hired by us and doing his job. My dad realized by then it'd be too late and tried to demand he let my sister in.

    At this point the friend came over started shouting and insulting my sister and asking what was going on. Basically stalling. My mom soon came and eventually other people.

    At this point the wedding plan was bust. All my parents could do now is damage control as everyone that learned about it was aghast they'd try and pull it and screaming and berating them. The three naturally said it wasn't a secret, and threw my husband under the bus.

    At this point my husband was summoned. When he came over he put on his best look of confusion and denied, denied, denied. To quote him: gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss lol. He denied having ever agreed to something so ridiculous. When they insisted he did, he demanded proof and of course, they couldn't produce any. All text exchanges they could produce were about normal wedding decisions.

    My sister was scream crying and apparently sat on the floor kicking her legs like a kid. My dad looked like he'd beat my husband, but security and other people held him back. Of course, they said they had no proof because my husband told them not to text. My husband laughed and said "wow, how convenient huh?" then again repeated why would he EVER agree to something so fucked up. Tore them a new one about being awful parents, then said he wasn't going to let their stupid plans and lying get in the way of his wedding and went back to me.

    No one believed them. The venue had cameras but they refused to show me the recording as that was only for security purposes. But some people filmed parts of it. Watching my parents and sister get ripped apart by any and everyone that came out to check the drama was delicious. After years and years of being accused of stuff and not believed, to watch them have a taste was one of the best wedding gifts. My mother was crying, my dad kept changing from purple to white, my sister was still on the floor crying and screaming. They kept insisting on that my husband was in on it. But people kept asking why would my husband agree, why was there no proof, why did they want my sister to do this to my wedding? And they had no good answer to any of it

    Eventually they were told to leave and had no choice but to do so. My dad apparently had to drag my sister up as she refused to leave the ground.

    Again, people said nothing to me all night. I guess they wanted to spare me. And maybe it's because I was the bride and not just a guest for once, but it did feel like everyone was making extra effort to be nice, positive and excited about everything. My husband says "all the expensive shit they were eating drinking certainly helps" lol.

    We had a blast. My husband maintained the forced angry face for only a short while before breaking out in smiles again.

    After that we went to the hotel to catch some sleep before going to our honeymoon.

    (Speaking of which, my parents did try to pay for our plane tickets, but we thought that was risky as they could try and cancel them or something so we refused)

    Of course, since that whole thing the three have tried to contact me. I've refused calls, because my husband insisted on keeping a papertrail. I smart thing, because my sister did eventually message me. I won't repeat it as it was very unhinged and didn't make much sense, but the important part was that she blamed me for her humiliation, called my husband a two faced snake that fooled them for months (he wants to print and put that on our wall lol) and hoped (but was also certain it'd happen) that I'd get cheated on by him. She did also suggest he was cheating on me with her, actually.

    My husband took my phone, screenshot the call logs, screenshot my sister's message, screenshot some messages of my parents demanding I pick up the phone... and sent it all to my family group chat. And sent screenshots of messages to him, where they called him names and threatened him (but he kept up the "you're delusional, I never agreed to anything" shtick, and even threatened to sue them for defamation and harassment). He wrote a message in said group chat begging my family for help, as I was now being harassed by them constantly. He begged family to help stop them from trying to ruin my honeymoon now that they had failed to ruin my wedding. Then finished neatly with a request that they don't share our locations, to avoid my parents sending my sister over and then claiming he had somehow agreed to pretend to fuck her in our honeymoon suite. LOL. My family assured him they'd take care of it.

    And indeed, since then we've had silence. My husband is a little disappointed my sister didn't disobey, so he could tattle again while tearing her a new asshole. We'll see if it'll last.

    All in all, while I obviously would preferred to have a normal loving family at my wedding, at least for once in my life they not only failed to ruin something meaningful to me, but I got them back.


    Extra info:

    Do I know why they treat me like this? I've been asked this question a lot so I assume you all will think the same. I have wondered this all my life, and I still don't know. I tried asking when I was young, but they denied any difference and scolded me for acting spoiled, so I quit trying. I've thought of some many possibilities, but based on my observations I think it's this: I was unplanned. They took a while to have my sister, so she was not only wanted but also like a miracle child after so long. However, given our age difference is quite small... I think they didn't expected to have a kid so soon or easily, and didn't use adequate protection way too soon after my sister's birth. And maybe didn't notice my mom was pregnant until too late. So they were saddled with an unplanned baby while still dealing with a newborn. And they're not that well off, so having the extra expense likely didn't help. So they resented me. But that's my conjecture. Regardless, I've accepted the answer won't truly matter: what they did to me was unwarranted no matter what.

    Did they really think this would work? My husband and I talked, and we have the theory that they never wanted to do this at all. We think my sister threw a tantrum over me getting married first when she barely gets dates, and they gave my husband that outlandish proposition. As in, they didn't want to pay for my wedding and didn't think we'd accept or that it'd even look good for them to do it. But by suggesting it and being refused, they could look like the good guys to my sister while having an excuse to not give me a dime. But then my husband accepted it, and they couldn't backtrack, or else risk my sister turning on them.

    (edited to fix some typos)

    SUMMARY because it did get too long: bad parents want to have my sister walk down the aisle at my wedding first, in wedding dress and all. My husband pretends to go along with it, and uses this as an excuse to get my parents to pay for the most expensive stuff possible for my wedding (which they only did because they thought it would be for my sister's sake). When the day comes though, we hired security that didn't let her in. When family called out my parents, they said my husband was in on it. But my husband denied it. There was no evidence, so no one believed them. So now family is against them, no one believes them, my sister didn't ruin my wedding and we got a lot of money out of them

    16:51 UTC


    Operation Let it Go

    My dad just shared a story about my late Uncle Dale (his lifelong friend and fellow engineer). So in his memory and in spirit of the upcoming holidays, I present for you the tale of nepotism, engineering students and Idina Menzel.

    Uncle Dale was a senior engineer at a small firm in the Midwestern USA and engineering instructor at the local community college. He was also (unofficially) in charge of the office parties. To help offset the costs, he had a small tin box on a table outside of his office with a slot in it so anyone could donate money to the party fund. Everyone knew about it and were happy to donate. A month or so before before the company's big Christmas party, Uncle Dale decided to check the box.

    Low and behold; it was empty.

    Uncle Dale knew something was wrong because he had seen several colleagues putting money in the box. This could only mean one thing: someone was stealing from the party fund.

    At this moment, Brad, the owner's nephew and a fellow engineer, came around the corner...and something about the way Brad was looking at him made Uncle Dale suspicious.

    Brad didn't have a good reputation around the office to say the least. He had a reputation of being pushy, obnoxious, rude and just plain entitled. Unfortunately, he was not only the owner's "beloved nephew" but knew how to skirt the rules so he wouldn't get fired.

    Uncle Dale decided to set a trap to catch the thief. Using his engineering skills, he set up a hidden rig using a hidden doorbell camera right by the box. He then had a colleague loudly brag about how he contributed $100 to the party fund. Then he waited.

    He got a notification that the camera was recording...and watched Brad open the empty box, scowl in disgust and throw the box against the wall.

    Now you'd think this would end with Uncle Dale presenting the video evidence to his boss to get Brad fired but oh no.

    As I mentioned in a previous post, "if there's one thing engineers love, it's solving problems. And if it's engineering students, they'll make it an experience to remember."

    Uncle Dale then went to his engineering students. He offered them extra credit to come up with a rigged box that would make noise when opened. The more obnoxious the sound, the higher the bonus.

    One week later, they delivered their project and demonstrated how it worked. Pleased with the results, Uncle Dale awarded them the extra credit as promised. The next day, he set up the rigged box and proclaimed "Well! Isn't this nice! Someone donated $50 to the party fund!" Then he went to his office and waited.

    The engineering students had rigged the box with one of those inserts from cards that play music when you open them. By popular vote, they had picked "Let it Go" from the Disney movie "Frozen"...right around the time the song was beginning to become unpopular. They also managed to ensure that once opened, the box couldn't close unless you pressed a hidden side button releasing the hinge...so the song would continue to play. For extra funsies, they made sure to angle the insert for maximum volume AND secured it down with industrial strength glue.

    Sure enough, everyone in the office heard Idina Menzel belting the hated song and Brad's frustrated grunts while trying to close the box. One of those attracted by the sound was Brad's uncle. Finally, Brad chucked the box at the wall, managing to put a good sized dent in it. The uncle then summoned Brad to his office. Fifteen minutes later, Brad left with a cardboard box and cleared out his desk...along with a note in his file "do not rehire. do not recommend". So his engineering career was over.

    That Christmas, Uncle Dale had a little video prepared to show at the party. The doorbell camera had caught Brad's attempt to steal from the box...all to the tune of "Let it Go."

    20:40 UTC


    Hell Hath no Fury Like Me Scorned - Part II, Felony Boogaloo

    Hello, r/ProRevenge! A couple of years ago, I posted a revenge story involving my step-mother Shanty Wife, my step-brother Shorty, and my dad, who is now resting in a purple urn. In case you missed it, you can read it here. Well, I finally have an update!

    To recap, Shorty, my step-brother, was my dad's Power of Attorney while he was sick and had heinously abused his position, stealing a very large sum of money. When I got involved, I got a restraining order against Shorty, filed charges, took over my dad's care, and exacted some sweet revenge in the process. I was warned by the court's Victim's Advocate, who is my first cousin because that's how it is in that town, that bringing Shorty to trial for what he did would take a very long time. She was correct.

    In the meantime, I monitored Shorty's online activities. When he moved out of state, I called the court and let them know just in case it violated his bail. When he got a job as a truck driver, I called the court to let them know he was repeatedly leaving his home state just in case it violated his bail.

    Then, six months ago, I got a call from the same victim's advocate. The trial was going to be set soon, and the court wanted input from the family regarding possible plea deals and sentencing. He was indicted on felony elder abuse and was facing 15 years in prison. The advocate let me know that the family could request prison time, or plea him down to work release with restitution. The upside to prison was obvious, but the downside would be that we would not likely receive restitution since he'd be perpetually poor and in prison. With work release, we would receive restitution, but he would have his freedom. Somewhat. She wanted to know which we preferred. I asked for the night to think it over.

    Shorty's future rested in my hands and I wanted to savor it. What kind of god did I want to be? To decide, I needed to do some math. If he went to prison for 15 years, he would be out in half or less. Seven years is a long time. But restitution would surely take as long if not longer, and I would get the pleasure of taking his money every month, for years and years and years. I liked the thought of him working every day, toiling away in shit conditions for shit pay and him knowing that a portion of that shit day would be for nothing. I loved the thought that I would be the reason for it.

    So I called her back and told her we would be OK with a plea deal to felony supervised release and restitution. I didn't hear anything further until last week, when the advocate called me again to let me know he'd accepted a deal.

    The Deal:

    He plead guilty to felony elder exploitation, 1st degree. He received 15 years, split and suspended which means he won't serve any jail time. Two years will be on felony work supervision where he'll have to call in to his parole officer every day and be drug tested almost as frequently. After that, he'll be on regular probation for up to five years. The judge will schedule check-ins with him to ensure he's paying restitution and meeting the requirements of his work release and parole.

    The Restitution:

    He has to pay back $130,539.39. He was ordered to pay $300 a month beginning 01/01/2024. My math gamble paid off; it will take him 36 years to pay that back at $300 a month. If he misses a payment, he will go to jail. I will be in his life for decades, taking back from him bit by bit what he stole.

    So I think that's going to be it. I've done everything I can do, apart from being there to catch him if he violates the terms of his release. Thank you for reading this tangled web of revenge. I hope it warms your heart for the holidays!

    17:51 UTC


    TIFU by being an AH on internet and causing a stranger to get divorced.

    I’m crossposting this from TIFU. I’m really not a mean person and genuinely felt terrible for destroying a marriage. But the lovely users thought I should post here though I didn’t mean for the revenge to go to this level by any means. I don’t even know if I meant for revenge at all… but here we are.

    I (42 F) TIFU big time. 2 weeks ago on a random Thursday morning at like 1AM someone starting shooting off fireworks in my neighborhood. I’ve been having bouts of insomnia and was finally able to get to sleep and I had to get to wake up at 4AM for a meeting 2 hours away that I had to be at for 8AM. I was pissed and so we’re my dogs. I love fireworks but think there’s a time and a place. Thursday morning at 1AM is not it.

    I posted to the neighborhood fb group a few hours later during a coffee break about people that set off fireworks at 1AM mid-week.

    After I make the long drive home, I check my fb. Some guy comments that I can’t sleep because I’m a fat pig. Now, I’m chubby but not sloppy fat. Plus I just lost the equivalent of a fully grown male wombat, or 54 North American grey squirrels, so I feel fucking awesome about myself.

    This is where I may have really fucked up…

    I respond to the guy, who was maybe mid to late 30’s/very early 40’s. About the same age group as me. I write in a comment beneath his, “Listen guys name I’m sorry I had to end things, but I just didn’t have the same feelings. What you’re saying now is just hurtful and mean. Please stop sending me messages and commenting on my fb posts is just a pathetic way to contact me. I told you a dozen times already, we are done. It’s over.”

    The following day I had to get to the airport for an out of country vacation that had me getting up early and leaving early as hell… so I don’t check my fb during all the craziness (also because I’m only on it sparingly. I don’t live on my phone and when I am, I’m usually on Reddit or TikTok vs FB).

    I could not check my fb even if I wanted. I was on a cruise- not paying $25/day for internet and the country we visited didn’t really have the greatest Wi-Fi. Besides I was having a blast leaving the chaos of the world behind.

    I signed on Monday night and FUCK. Apparently, people took this seriously and told his wife! She was freaking out on me, pleading for information. Sending me messages. Her and his friends were DMing me. He was DMing me. It was bad.

    The last message was the guy saying I’m a total cunt because I refused to tell the truth and I just destroyed his life. I immediately message both him and his wife explaining what happened. I sent pics of me on vacation even - time stamped.

    Apparently, he is a serial cheater and when I exposed our affair, another woman exposed her affair with the husband to the wife because AP was jealous that he had yet another side chick. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back because not only of the multiple affairs, but because he humiliated her with how public it was (especially it being a neighborhood group).

    So there’s my accidental pro revenge.

    TLDR; someone tried to hurt my feelings after I posted about fireworks being set off early morning, and I pretended to publicly address our “breakup”… his wife and affair partner were not pleased.

    02:36 UTC


    When your racket with the local cops bites you in the ass internationally.

    This happened a few years ago when I was serving overseas with the US military.

    The location I was at, was in a poorer area. There's a fair number of panhandlers, a lot of petty crime, and just people doing stupid crap.

    Well one racket that goes on in this area and apparently in other areas of the country too, is the local cops incentivize reporting vehicles without of date inspection stickers. Apparently they give these people access to the inspection database if they think the sticker is fake or stolen which actually does happen. If you drive a motorcycle, one of the things they tell you when you in-process is to keep the sticker in your wallet and not on the vehicle or else it'll just get peeled off. Anyway what these people will do if they find a car with an out-of-date sticker or if they run the plates and find it's out of date they will jimmy the door open, steal every single thing out of the car and leave a note that they've taken it to the police station. The idea is that you show up at the police station to get your stuff and they force you to pay the fine for an overdue sticker and then give you a deadline for an inspection or else you'll get another fine.

    Well I came out to my car one morning and lo and behold there was a note on my seat saying that all my stuff was at the local police station because my inspection sticker was fake and I had to go get it. No not only am I late for work my kid is also going to be late for school because there's no bus and I have to drive her every morning on my way. Also my inspection sticker is not out of date so I have no idea what's going on. Now here's the thing that was extremely problematic was I had put my passport and my wife/kid's in the glove box because I was taking them to the base to get some paperwork done. As well as grab some paperwork for my wife to apply for a new passport because hers was expired. I'm very forgetful so I put them in the night before and made sure the car was locked. Yeah dumb mistake...

    Anyway I get to the station, ask them what the heck was going on, and then when I have them look at the inspection documents that the guy had taken which clearly stated the car had been inspected and was current they apologized and told me that they would give my things back and I had to wait there for a second. I asked to file a police report for theft but they looked at me like I had three heads and told me nothing was stolen even though somebody broke into my car and took my things.

    This is when a light bulb went off in my head and this might fall into the unethical category. The guy had taken official US passports which might be a problem but probably nothing would come of it since they were turned right in to the police. However, I asked him where my wife's passport was.

    They told me that whatever is there is there. I said I needed a police report because I needed to contact the US embassy about a stolen passport and the fact that this police station would know exactly who the person was that stole it because they had dropped off my things that morning.

    I have never seen someone's attitude change as quickly as that cop's attitude changed. He tried to talk me out of filing a police report but I was pretty insistent so I went ahead with the police report and then I did contact the embassy and reported the passport stolen and gave them all the information of the police station and when I got the police report I emailed it to them as well.

    Wound up getting a free passport out of it for my trouble. The embassy told me they were going to handle it and from what I heard the person who broke into my car actually got arrested and fined and was looking at additional charges because he stole foreign documents. Really would have liked to have been a fly on the wall when one of the local cops rolled into wherever he was at and told him to come with them.

    I don't feel bad at all. Hopefully dude learned his lesson and I did not have any further issues until I PCSd home.

    *edited for grammar and mobile formatting errors and because I'm getting screeched at about going out of my way to get someone in huge trouble for a "minor" offense.

    19:38 UTC


    Stepdad cheats on my mom, so we get revenge

    Initials for clarity:

    Me(24m): me My mother(50f): mom My brother (23m): bro My sister (30f): sis Cheating stepdad(45m): Chris Stepdad's coworker(25f): Betty The other woman(~40f): Darla

    This may be a long one, apologies in advance.

    I moved in with my mom after her marriage of 25 years with my bio dad was ended. He was a manipulative asshole, but that's another story.

    Shortly after the divorce, my mom introduced me to her boyfriend at the time, Chris. Now, my mom worked as a correctionals officer at the county jail. The boyfriend was a former inmate, in for a DUI. That should have been the first red flag, but my mom was grieving a long marriage, and I didnt want to push the subject. Chris seemed to make her happy, and that was enough for me.

    Me, bro and sis all moved in with mom and Chris, and we seemed get along ok. Chris and I bonded a bit over our loved of video games, and all seemed well. That is, until 2017.

    Due to Chris's prior DUI, he had to go in regularly for probationary check ups at the court house. One day, he didnt return, and we got a little worried. We then recieved a phone call from him, from TEXAS.

    Turns out, when he arrived at the courthouse that day, he was jumped by the FBI. His family from Texas was implicated on a number of gang and drug related crimes, and due to a situation where he was in a vehicle during a drug handoff, he was on the hook as well. He ended up agreeing to testify against his family members in exchange for a shorter sentence, and allowed to be out of prison before the trial.

    My mom was distraught, and over the course of many phone calls over a year, they worked out their marriage plans when he returned. His store owner at the DQ he worked at allowed him to come back as well, back to his store manager position.

    Soon after, the drinking started.

    Now obviously, because of his DUI, Chris was clearly no stranger to drinking. He began to drink more and more, to the point where he was consuming half a 24 pack of beer a day.

    Chris was a mean drunk. He regularly started fights when wasted, and while they never got physical, he wasnt exactly kind with his words. My mom enabled his behavior for several years, saying the stress was getting to him from work and from the upcoming trial.

    Finally, after several years, my mom had enough. Chris came home extremely drunk one night, and my mom confronted him. She asked if he'd been drinking, and when he didnt deny it, she kicked him out. He went to live with a friend temporarily. The next morning, mom asked us to help gather a few of his essentials so that he didnt have to reenter the home until he was sober.

    While we were gathering his things, we heard a knock at the front door. We opened it to find Betty, one of Chris's coworkers and someone I went to high school with. She told my mom she had something important to share.

    After sitting my mom down and telling her not to share where she got the info from, Betty told my mom about how Chris was cheating on my mom with Darla. How he regularly had Darla perform sexual acts in and around his workplace. How Betty had caught them, and how Chris told her that if she ever told my mom, he'd fire her (he WAS the store manager). And finally... how Darla was pregnant.

    My mom was angry. After the initial shock wore off, she told us to round up ALL of Chris's things, and to dump it outside. We took everything of his out of the house and tossed it all in the alley behind our house. Chris had no reason or ability to return to the house (it was rented, with only my mom on the paperwork, so no issues there). In the meantime, she called and confronted him.

    He confessed to the entire affair, and that he was happy Darla was pregnant because that meant he'd finally have a child of his own (mom refused to have more kids, we three were massive strains on her body, she likely wouldn't survive any more). He refused to apologize for any of his actions. My mom arranged for him to collect his items from the alley (with an officer present), and he left our lives.

    --The revenge--

    Now, my mom clearly wanted to dust her hands of him and move on. She was already quite emotional from the whole ordeal, and wanted nothing more from him. But sis, bro, and I had other ideas.

    First, we called his workplace. DQ operates as an independently owned franchise, and the owner of this branch owned several branches in the area. He was also a good friend. We informed him of the sexual acts being performed on the premises, and he went the the processes of getting Chris booted from his position, and barred him from any of the branches in the area. (Funnily, Betty got his position after he left, and now runs a tight and clean ship.)

    Chris no longer had a job or a place to live, and so went to live with Darla in a town about an hour away. We found out that he started working at another DQ in THAT town, and informed the owner of that location of the situation. It took significantly longer, due to there being no current indecent actions occurring there, but eventually he lost that job too.

    Soon after, Chris began driving around our neighborhood, seemingly stalking my mom and our family, probably because of his job loss. Now, due to the whole situation in Texas, he never had his probation lifted for his DUI, and thus still did not have a license. He never had to drive when he lived with us, since work was local and we could drive him as needed. But here was was, clearly driving around by himself when he shouldn't be.

    We contacted the police and informed them about Darla's vehicle in our neighborhood, and that we believed Chriswas driving it, without a license. We told them to pull over the vehicle next time they see it, as it would likely be C driving again. Sure enough, a few weeks later, we were told that Chris indeed was pulled over, and sent back to the local jail for driving without a license, and while intoxicated.

    The police also did a search of the home he was staying at, and found several guns at the premises. Since he was a felon, he was not legally allowed to have weaponry on the premises, meaning there was more jail time tacked on. By the time his hail time had finished, it was just in time for him to be sent back to incarceration in Texas for the trial.

    Chris's son was born while Chris was in prison. Darla evidently realized what an absolute ass Chris was, and cut ties with him while he was in prison. During his prison time, Chris started sending tons of letters to my mom, stating how sorry he was, pleading to take him back, and ranting about how it wasnt his fault (all in the same letter, mind you). Mom burnt every one of them. We moved on, moving out of state.

    Chris evidently got out of prison some years ago, and now lives in Kansas, struggling and fighting child support, which Darla sued him for. Mom now has a new boyfriend, who treats her right and cares a lot more than Chris ever did. Bro and sis moved on and out, and I still live with mom, assisting her with the newly purchased home that we've been renovating. Lifes looking ok. I was reminded of this by a chat with a coworker about cheaters, and thought to post it here for others to enjoy.

    Edit: formatting

    16:40 UTC


    Deliberately deplete my prepaid phone balance? You will pay for it one thousand times over.

    I went to middle school in the early 2010s, right before smartphones really took off. I got my first phone right before starting sixth grade, it was a slide phone with a pay as you go plan that cost $0.10 per minute for calls and per text message sent or received. Worse yet, sending or receiving photos cost $0.25 each. It was very expensive, and my parents only gave me $100 a year for this, if I exceeded the amount, I had to cover the rest with my limited birthday and Christmas money I had. Fortunately, most of my friends were good about helping me preserve the balance. They would call and I’d let the call drop but immediately call back on a landline so it wouldn’t count as a call, and they’d email me or message me on skype for most things.

    Everything was good until Derek joined the group in seventh grade. At first we thought he was funny, but we quickly got fed up with him as he was very unpleasant and exhibited many antisocial behaviors. He started drama within the friend group and also caused issues between us and other kids outside of the group. He was manipulative and always played the victim when others rightfully called him out on his shit, and he knew how to charm parents, so getting rid of him was easier said than done. He was the one friend who didn’t respect my phone situation. He very frequently texted me dumb memes, even though I told him multiple times to just email or skype them to me instead since picture text messages cost $0.25 each. Unfortunately, blocking phone numbers was a feature that was unavailable for this pay as you go plan, so there was nothing I could do as he spammed my phone. One day he got mad at me for some reason and spammed my phone with memes. He must’ve sent me over 100 lolcats over text, he kept sending them until I lost service since my phone balance was depleted. I had lost the $40 remaining in my account as a result. I was extremely pissed and demanded that he pay me the $40 he had cost me, and he refused and said it wasn’t his problem. I got home from school really upset and told my dad about the situation, expecting him to go and tear Derek’s mother a new one and demand the money, but my dad said that it wasn’t worth the battle. I even asked him about a small claims court but he said that not all battles are worth fighting, and that the effort wasn’t worth $40. He took me to the carrier’s store and loaded $50 onto the phone. The carrier changed my phone number, and they managed to block Derek’s number. They had initially said that blocking phone numbers wasn’t possible with this plan, but my dad insisted and would not leave the store until they did it. I was extremely paranoid about my phone number being leaked and other kids spamming it to fuck with me. Fortunately, my parents got iPhones that summer and got me one too, and the new family plan had an unlimited text plan. Nonetheless, I was pissed at the $40 he essentially stole from me out of malice. Fortunately, not too long after, there was a big blowout between Derek and the rest of the friend group at the end of the school year and we permanently kicked him out of the group. He was an outcast the following year in 8th grade, nobody was tolerating his shit anymore, and he changed schools the year after and we never heard from him again.

    Fast forward to a few years ago, I was back home for a few months between graduating college and starting a new job on the other side of the country. I went out to some garage sales one Saturday morning and I ended up at Derek’s house. I recognized his mother, but I don’t think she recognized me, I guess glasses and a beard is all you need. I noticed some Pokemon napkins out for sale, and when I picked them up to look at them, Derek’s mom said that her son had been obsessed with Pokemon for his whole life and that she was tired of Pokemon stuff occupying her home for so many years. I said that these napkins were for my younger cousin who is really into Pokemon, and asked if she had any more Pokemon stuff. She said she didn’t know people were still into that and that there were a few boxes in the attic with her son’s old stuff. She actually took me inside the house (which I never imagined I’d set foot inside ever again), and let me climb up the attic ladder and take down several large boxes to look through. The first one had Christmas ornaments in it and other junk, but I freaked out inside when she opened a box jam packed with Pokemon video games in the original boxes, though I kept my cool on the outside.

    The whole reason I had agreed to go inside in the first place was because I was holding out hope of this exact scenario happening. See, I knew Derek was obsessed with Pokemon. Our friend group liked Pokemon back in the day even when other kids thought it wasn’t cool, but Derek was on a whole different level. He bragged about his Pokemon collection all the time, at the time he had every single main series game in the original box, and in “mint condition” as he always had to add in. I went to his house once and he was showing me his collection, he yelled at me for touching one of the games, nobody was allowed to touch them except him. He had many older Nintendo games in excellent condition but Pokemon was his favorite. He had had a couple of incidents with his mom damaging or throwing away his things, it wasn’t out of malice but just ignorance, as she didn’t think the games or collectibles had any value. Fast forward into the present day, I was thinking about this when I asked his mother if she had any other Pokemon stuff, she ended up bringing out the motherload.

    We opened all of the boxes she had me bring down. Within the boxes there was the beloved collection of Pokemon games, all very well preserved, as well as several Nintendo consoles, hundreds of games, two dozen binders full of Pokemon cards, and there was also a box of many Lego sets with the original boxes and everything, with many old Star Wars sets. When I saw Jango Fett I knew I struck gold. I told her that I liked old Legos as well, and asked her how much for the five boxes of games, cards, and lego sets, and she thought for a second and said $100 a box, or $400 for all five. I told her I would take it all and hauled ass to get to an ATM. I loaded the five boxes into my dad’s truck and immediately drove home. I knew there was potentially tens of thousands of dollars of goods here, this was the score of a lifetime and I finally felt vindicated for the $40 Derek had taken from me all those years ago.

    I ended up giving all the stuff to my uncle, who’s a hobbyist ebay reseller. He offered to sell it all, he was willing to go through the effort and sell everything individually, and despite my insistence he said he wouldn’t take more than a 10% cut of the profits after all fees and taxes. We went through and logged every single item along with the estimated value, and the total of the whole lot was about $40,000. 40,000 was a poetic number since this was 1000x the value of what Derek stole from me all those years ago. My uncle sold most of the lot before the end of the summer and ended up writing me a check, though it was considerably less than $40,000, it was still a lifechanging amount of money for me, I was able to pay off my remaining student loans and put the rest towards a down payment on a new car.

    22:16 UTC


    Boss from HELL gets what she deserves

    I (30sF), have been a people pleaser to a fault my whole life. I have been working in marketing for 10+ years. Over the years, I've had my fair share of bosses who were good, average, and some who sucked. There is one in particular that stood out as awful. This story is from about 5+ years ago.

    Pamela (40s- not real name) was the VP of Marketing and Sales for a mid-size retailer. She started at the company a few years after I did. And if rumors were true, she was the fourth pick for the position and was simply hired so the company could appease shareholders.

    I was a manager under her, and my whole job was to make sure the website and stores had their products merchandised properly, received all their monthly sales materials, managed advertising, set up and managed the department's budget, PM'd all department projects and operations, created reporting to reflect sales, managed presentations/creative briefs for future projects etc. In short, I did her work and all the administrative grunt work to keep the department afloat. I managed all this because I had access to her email and many times sent emails on her behalf to keep the department functioning. Pamela spent most of her time showing up after 10am, taking "business lunches", and planning company parties (don't even know why we did those, but I planned those too.)

    I consistently questioned why she spent so much of our budget on these events when we didn't have the budget resources for any of it. Pamela told me to take from future months' budgets to pay for the current month's overspending. So, at the start of every month, I had an original budget and by the end of the month, I had to turn in an edited budget (edited under Pamela's direction) that made it look like Pamela's spending was under control. This is important for later.

    I definitely made mistakes here and there being in charge of so many tasks and constantly found myself working 12 hour days split between being in the office and working after my kid went to bed. Weekend work was also done before my family woke up and after they went to bed.

    During Pamela's first major holiday season, sales were shit. Pamela kept changing her mind on the visuals for the stores, kept bringing on new advertising and PR agencies to "bring in sales" (all these agencies consisted of her personal friends), and ignored our buying/merchandise team's planned promotions for her own "better" ones.

    At this time, I had been dealing with an ongoing infection that turned to sepsis, and was hospitalized. The doctors and my husband said it was due to the stress of work and that I needed to take a break.

    As I recovered, I realized how much I was hurting myself, my family, and even the company I worked for. Eventually, my old habits got to me, and I got on my phone and checked mine and my bosses emails. What I found made my blood boil.

    First, I got a lovely bouquet of flowers from upper management wishing me well, and I knew that Pamela organized the delivery (she sent me her favorite flowers.) I went to her inbox to put the receipt in the correct folder to send to accounting when I got back. At the top of her inbox from the past 3 days were emails clearly not related to business. What I found in her emails was Pamela emailing her personal friends griping on how I can't just shake off sepsis and "get back to work". She also complained that she couldn't find any of my notes, spreadsheets, or documents for any of the work she was technically in charge of (they were on our shared drive labeled very clearly.) Finally, I found an email where she sent a friend from a previous company asking for advice on how to bring in sales and save her job.

    In this long thread, this old colleague asked if there was anyone managing most of the work, and of course, Pamela said I was. This colleague explained that clearly it was my mismanagement that was causing issues and that I could be blamed if sales didn't pull through by the end of the season. Pamela mentioned that I was in the hospital and repeated comments from her other email thread. This person said that she couldn't outright fire me because it could seem like retaliation because I needed to take emergency medical leave. But, if Pamela could prove I was stealing from the company or misusing company resources, then she would have grounds to have me fired (and use me as a scapegoat).

    Upon my return, Pamela called me into her office and said she was "worried I was taking on too much", and wanted to take work off my plate. She announced was taking managing the department budget off my plate. She asked me to only drop of a small stack of invoices to accounting. Additionally, Pamela told me under no circumstances was I allowed to talk to accounting about anything regarding budgets. Also, if I had any concerns about the department or workload, I wasn't allowed to go to HR, I had to discuss it directly with Pamela. Oh yeah, I could see where this was going.

    Unfortunately for Pamela, I had built a rapport with Lois (50s - not real name) who was our main accountant. Lois always said that she would do everything in her power to help me should I ask.

    Knowing this, I grabbed the stack of invoices off Pamela's desk to give to accounting. I also added the email threads I read while I was in the hospital, and the current unedited budget that Pamela hadn't touched yet for the month. I also found in my filing cabinet the hard copies of old budgets with Pamela's handwriting on what numbers to change to balance our budget. Finally, I added an email from our first round of budget adjustments where Pamela subtlety threatened to put someone else in my job if I couldn't do what she asked.

    So, I walked and dropped off the invoices to accounting when I bumped into Lois. She brought up invoices, and I sternly looked at her and said Pamela is the only one in our department that Lois is allowed to talk to about our budget and invoices. Lois saw the suspiciously thick file folder on her desk, gave a firm nod, and lovingly kicked me out of her office.

    Within the week, Pamela was fired. From what I understand, she has been continually job hopping for the past few years. The CEO (and HR) brought me in to personally apologize for everything I went through and gave me a paid 1-week vacation to take at my discretion. Given other issues with this business, I left after another year.

    Which brings me to today. I am, once again, a manager for sales and marketing. I have a wonderful boss (Mike - 40s M), who trusts my business decisions and backs me up on practically everything. We are hiring my team for me to soley manage and direct.

    Today, I looked through the applicants and found Pamela's resume sitting among dozens of others. I stared at her name, wondering how many other people share her name. Upon review, yup, it's her. She definitely fell down the corporate ladder, with VP of our old company being the highest title she earned. And, to no surprise, she embellished her achievements, claiming the work I managed as her own, and claimed she generated an 87% sales growth during the holiday season at our previous company.

    As a people pleaser, who firmly believes in giving everyone a chance, it has never been so satisfying to click "Disqualified".

    Edit: To those suggesting I interview her to see her reaction, I would have loved to see her face as she walked in. But, I felt it would have risked my boss's trust in my decision-making ability.

    Maybe I'll send a personally written rejection email

    20:28 UTC


    Revenge on a client who tried to throw me under the bus

    I was pushing forty, and I'd learned a lot of lessons in more than ten years of legal practice. But one of the most important lessons I learned was from an older lawyer that I worked for as a summer student, after the second year of law school.

    "A lawyer has three duties," he told me, "first to himself, second to the court, and last, the client. Always make sure you come first, and the client comes last." The reason? "Because clients will fuck you," he said, "they'll throw you under the bus without thinking twice." I should have stayed with this lawyer, but being young and an idiot, I had to go work downtown, and I'm still downtown now, but fortunately for me, I remembered this lesson, and it came in handy many years later when a client really did try to throw me under the bus.

    My client was this mid-sized company that did this and that and owned things here and there, not big enough to be listed, but it did have a pretty sizable real estate portfolio, and one day a building they owned burned to the ground. The company wanted to collect on the insurance, so they told Frank, a veteran salaryman, to deal with it.

    Frank was close to sixty and thought he knew what he was doing. He didn't need me to help him with the insurance claim, he told me; he had everything under control. Besides, lawyers are expensive. Some guys really get off on not paying legal fees, and Frank was one of those guys who gloated over every penny that he managed not to pay to the lawyers. I dealt with Frank a lot, and he was always nickel and diming me.

    "The insurer is going to fuck you," I told Frank. It was only by luck that I even knew about the fire and the loss because Frank had not asked for my help; he'd just let it slip one day, and since then, I'd kept on top of him, trying to get him to smarten up. I'd had to fight to get him to send me the proof of loss form to make sure he hadn't messed that up. Frank fucked up a lot, and I wondered sometimes how he had a job. But the proof of loss was okay, at least, so that was one less thing to worry about.

    "You don't know that," he said. I could tell he just wanted to get me off the phone.

    "I'm paid to know when insurers are trying to screw my clients," I said, "and the insurer is going to screw you. They've been stringing you along for ages with requests and questions and paperwork, but they aren't going to pay you. Not unless you sue them." But Frank said he knew what he was doing, that it was all under control, and besides, he got along with the adjuster so great.

    "The limitation period expires in two weeks," I said, "and once that two weeks pass, it will be too late to sue. The moment that limitation period expires, they will stop taking your calls. You'll get a final email saying sorry, you're out of time, and that will be that. Don't leave this till the last minute. Let me sue right now, and you'll have the money in no time." Frank was like sure, fine, whatever, don't bother me I got this blah blah blah, and he got off the phone as soon as he could. I sent him the usual email with clear warnings and recommendations, which he ignored. I sent the email again, and then again as the limitation period approached, and again a couple of days before the deadline. "I'm going to be at trial, and you won't be able to reach me," my final email said, "but you have to sue. You have other firms on your list, so pick one and sue." He didn't bother to reply, and I went off to do my trial.

    The trial lasted a couple of weeks, and no email from Frank. Then a month passed, and another month, still no email. I figured he must have sorted things out. "Maybe Frank was right after all," I said to myself, and then my phone rang. It was Frank.

    "Remember that fire insurance thing we spoke about?" We'd only spoken about it like a dozen times. I figured he was calling up to gloat, so I cut to the chase. "So they paid out. That's great, Frank. You were right."

    He asked me what I was talking about, and could he see a copy of the claim?

    "What claim?" I said.

    "The claim against the insurer. You know, that claim."

    "Does that mean the insurer didn't pay?" I said. He hung up on me, and then a few minutes later, my computer dinged, and there was Frank's email, talking about how we spoke, and he told me to sue, and he was worried when I hadn't sent him a copy of the claim, so he was following up to get a copy of the claim. I emailed him back. "I take it that the insurer didn't pay you, just like I told you they wouldn't, and now that the limitation period is expired, they told you to jump in the lake, leaving you with a loss in the millions. Is that it?" I'd made a mistake by not going over Frank's head when he wouldn't listen to me, but if I'd gone over Frank's head, I never would have received another file from him, so I didn't. But that was then, and this was now, so I CC'd Frank's boss and his boss's boss, plus I CC'd Bill, the client's in-house counsel. Bill acknowledged my email right away and called me later that day.

    "Frank messed up," he said, "we know that. He's an idiot. So what do we do?"

    "So his excuses didn't work?"

    "Nope." Bill explained that they'd summoned Frank to a boardroom, but his story didn't add up, given all the warnings I'd sent him. Besides, there would have been no reason for him to keep emailing the insurer if he'd told me to sue; once the file goes to legal counsel, Frank's role was over. The company knew Frank was bullshitting them. "So that's it, then?" Bill said, "we just lost a couple of million bucks?"

    "It's okay," I said, explaining that when I realized that Frank was going to fuck up, I issued a claim against the insurer. Because I'd made Frank send me the proof of loss a while earlier, I had enough information that I could sue to preserve the cause of action. Not a great claim and short on details, but good enough.

    "You sued without instructions?" Bill said. Lawyers aren't supposed to sue without instructions because if you do that, you're personally liable for whatever costs the other side incurs. It's a big deal to sue without instructions.

    "Yup," I said, "I sued without instructions." I pulled up a copy of the claim and emailed it to him as we spoke. "It's a little rough," I said, "but we can always amend."

    "Thank God!" Bill said, "can I leave it with you?" Of course he could. The insurer was a sitting duck, and I knew I'd collect from them, no problem. A few days later, I got a call from another guy who worked for the client, a guy I didn't normally deal with. They had a situation and needed my help.

    "I usually deal with Frank," I said, "what's up?"

    What was up was that Frank got called into another meeting, and they handed him a one-page letter, and then he put his little office things in a box, and security walked him past his co-workers to the elevator and escorted him downstairs to the parking lot. Bye-bye, Frank. He was too old to get another job, or at least, not a decent one. It was a life-changing event for Frank, but for me, he was just an anecdote, a cautionary tale that I tell young lawyers sometimes over beers, maybe too often, because I'm getting on in years and I have my favorite stories.

    I wasn't trying to get revenge on Frank, not at all, and I would have felt a bit sorry for him if he hadn't been trying to throw me under the bus. But the guy who replaced him was great and never nickel and dimed me, so it was all good.

    16:47 UTC


    Some like it hot 🌶️

    Reading a recent stolen food PR reminded me, I too, have a similar life experience to share. True story.

    I had taken a R&D internship for a food company over the summer in Keokuk (the armpit of Iowa for those unfamiliar). For housing accommodations the company had set me up in the local college dorm that was previously a retirement home so it basically had individual rooms and bathrooms, but one large commercial kitchen. It was summer and the school didn't have a summer program, but allowed 2 fall students to move in at the beginning of the summer. One was rarely there, but the other was constantly in the building and often times had multiple friends over.

    Given the kitchen set up, we all stored our food there and it's a pretty no brainier you shouldn't take from others, but immediately I had various food items going missing or being consumed regularly (sodas, empty boxes of cereal put back on the shelf, etc.). I initially posted a sign on the fridge to not eat others food and also confronted both about having food go missing after the sign was up, but it didn't stop whomever from stealing my food (particularly when I'd head out of town for weekends). After complaining about the situation to my manager during my job they helped formulate the perfect ProRevenge.

    Given I was doing R&D work on food products, I was responsible for getting various ingredient samples to use for new recipes. My manager suggested I get some capsaicin extracts for my "research" even though we weren't doing anything in that realm for flavor profiles. Well I found a company that had various scoville unit extracts and I asked for a variety to see what worked best for our applications. Well did they deliver with some small 2 ounce bottles of 50K, 100K, and 250K scoville extracts!

    I ended up putting the 250K in a travel sized spray bottle (mixed with some water to help as a carrier) and wearing gloves and a mask (borrowed from work) doctored the common food items being stolen with a liberal spraying of my mixture (mainly cereal, chips, crackers, jug of milk and the lip/top of a few soda cans). For the snacks I actually put some into a separate bag and left them open to dry before mixing back into the original packaging. I did this in a different dorm room in my wing as I know well enough how potent this can be in enclosed spaces.

    I did this right before another trip out of town and when I returned I found some of the chips and cereal and milk was missing plus 2 of the 3 cans of soda I had doctored. I never got to see the result and no one ever said anything, but none of my food went missing for the remaining month of my stay.

    I hope the experience was enlightening for them and they still remember the time they played with 🌶️ 🔥.

    20:07 UTC


    Lunch thief's just desert

    Years ago i had a lunch thief.

    About the 12th time complaining to HR about people stealing my lunch (mandatory reporting every 3rd or 4th instance) i was seathing not a dam thing was being done and i still had to go buy something to eat.

    I was bitching to my doctor at the yearly check up and he got a smile saying "your constipated then?" I was dumb and said "no why" he wrote me a prescription for some holy fuck laxitive with instructions to "mix it in with your meal for maximum affect" at witch point i knew the plan.

    I wish i could say they shat their pants but no they ate my sandwich with special avacado sauce. About an hour after lunch i went to HR and reported 2 things 1 my lunch was stolen again and 2 my medication was stolen. HR "so you got hit by the lunch thief again and your medicine was in the bag?" Me "Yes i have had some digestive problems and my doctor prescribed a powerful laxative and advised me to mix it in with my mid day meal." HR going white "You what?" Me smiling "I mixed in a prescription grade laxative with my food per doctor's orders."

    Well being that stealing prescribed medication is a criminal offense the police were called and found the lead man from a department over absolutely shitting his brains out. He was furious and accused me of poisoning his food. I asked "At witch point did you get the idea that food was for you?" Continued "furthermore now i no longer have my medication i was prescribed for my condition."

    It was about this time he knew he fucked up and shut his mouth until he got a lawyer or so im told (small town) one of my buddies from high school took his position i can make and eat my hoagies and i have no clue where lunch thief went after his fines and community service.

    14:26 UTC


    A lawyer's pro revenge on his boss

    “This opinion is shit,” my boss told me. He’d been a lawyer for three years, and the firm assigned me to him for training, to show me, junior counsel, how to be a litigator.

    I disliked my boss for a number of reasons. He knew no law, and he expressed himself badly in writing. For a litigator, that’s like strike one and two right there, and strike three was this: he had no balls. He was actually scared of going to court. I noticed this when he took me to assignment court one day, and when it was his turn to speak his hands were shaking. He was scared, in fucking assignment court, where all you do is set a trial date.

    “What’s wrong with what I wrote?” I said.

    “Not what I asked for,” he said, turning away. But when I checked the memo he’d emailed me two weeks earlier, I saw that the opinion I wrote was exactly what he asked for.

    I knew what was up. He was going to delete my dockets for writing the memo and then claim he did it himself, thus leaving quite a bit short of my docketing quota for the month. I knew that he would do this to me, because he’d done this before. I knew that my memo would wind up on a partner’s desk without my name on it. I knew that for a fact, because the firm I worked at was one of the first in the city to have a really good internal network. We were using email for internal communications before the internet became a thing. So the firm was way ahead in terms of technology, but not in terms of security, and not long after I joined the firm I learned how to surf away on the firm’s harddrive and find interesting things, like evidence that my boss was plagiarizing my work.

    My boss was the very model of the young downtown lawyer. His perfect shoes always gleamed. He wore bespoke suits because he came from money. Everyone just took it for granted that he was on the partner track. I, on the other hand, was well on my way to no where special, so maybe he thought it was ok to fuck with me. If so, that was a big mistake on his part.

    I didn’t like having my billable hours fucked with. I seriously resented it, because I was already being targeted as one of the juniors who doesn’t docket as much as he should and I was getting pushback from the partner who headed our team. I told the partner what was going on, but he didn't care. It was like being back in middle school and showing up in the office with bruises on my face and the principal saying ‘boys will be boys’ and sending me on my way. “You’ll just have to work harder, or smarter,” the partner said when I reported the latest bullshit thing my boss did to me.

    I couldn’t work harder (I was doing the usual six days a week lawyers downtown are forced to do) but I could work smarter, and that night I thought up a plan. Christmas was coming, and I thought I’d give my boss a little present. It landed on his desk on December 24th, in the form of a memo purporting to be from the partner that my boss reported to. The partner was an old guy, and not really on board with emails and computers, so he did everything old school, on paper. So when my boss came in on December 24th and saw a memo on his desk from the partner with a legal research assignment, that wasn’t unusual. The memo was drafted in the usual form that the partner used, because of course I had taken great pains to make sure that it looked authentic. My boss walked over to the little cubicles where the juniors worked, and gave me the same memo. Except his secretary had re-typed it, so now the assignment was from him to me, instead of from the partner to my boss. The assignment was difficult, requiring me to do a deep dive into admiralty law, its relationship to the common law, combined with a constitutional division of powers question.

    “But this is a huge assignment,” I whined, “and I’m going to be away. Can’t you get someone else to do it? Is it really urgent?” The memo I’d forged to my boss stressed how totally urgent the situation was, but there was no way my boss could double check with the partner, because the partner left the day before on vacation. That’s why I’d waited until December 24th. “No can do,” my boss said, “this is a big deal. Just let HR know. Maybe they’ll give you time and half or something.” He turned his back and walked away, thinking he had ruined my holidays.

    But he was mistaken. You see, I’d written a paper for a third year course that was basically the same thing as the research assignment in the memo. So the only ‘work’ I had to do, was to find the old floppy disk with the draft on it, fiddle with it a bit, and voila: a very detailed and very long memo on an obscure point of Admiralty law, with references starting back to Lord Coke’s day. So I put the memo together, and took my holidays as planned. I wasn’t traveling anywhere (because I had no money) but I saw my family and stayed in town and I made a point of dropping by the office during the holidays, sending an email or two, establishing that I was around, and docketing all my time for the huge amount of research I was allegedly doing.

    So the holidays end, and I’m sitting in my shitty little cubicle with a huge stack of work to do and my boss comes up to me, in one of his bespoke suits with a gold tie pin and cufflinks to match. He was wearing a gold watch, too. He was dressed up, even for him, trying to make an impression of some kind.

    “Where’s that memo? You were supposed to have it on my desk when I got back. I’m going into a meeting at noon.”

    “Just finished it this morning,” I said, handing him the lengthy memo that was still warm from the printer. My boss took the memo in his hands and felt its heft and he smiled. Then he turned and walked away without a word.

    Just before lunch I heard a commotion down the hall. It was a pretty loud commotion, as such things go, a loud “fuck!”, and then a door was flung open. It was the partner, and he was screaming for my boss to get his ass into his office, now, right now, as in immediately. I had the pleasure of watching my boss scramble down the hall. “Just what the fucking fuck is this?” the partner said, standing in the doorway to his office, and holding my handiwork at arm's length with his thumb and index finger, as if he were afraid that handling it would soil him. My boss mumbled something, and then the partner ushered him inside. I heard more shouting, then the sound of muffled excuses, and then more shouting from the partner. Then the door flung open again.

    “Calledinthe90s. Get your ass in here, too,” the partner said, and I got my ass in their pronto.

    “Did you write this fucking memo?” the partner said. I took it from him and looked it over.

    “I wrote it. The cover page has been changed to remove my name, but other than that, it’s mine. I spent all Christmas on it. Is there something wrong with it?” The partner exploded.

    “Is there something wrong with it? Something wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. It’s fucking useless! Totally useless!” I explained that I’d followed my boss’s instructions to the letter, and that I’d docketed more than a hundred hours on it. At this the partner really went nuts, and told me to go back to my desk and fetch him the memo from my boss. I brought it to him, and when he read it, his face went red. He told me I could leave and I hauled ass out of there. From my little cubicle I wasn’t close enough to hear the full chewing out my boss got, but I heard the details through the grapevine over the next few days, about how the partners were seriously pissed that my boss had wasted over a hundred hours of a junior’s time on a useless task that was obviously a prank, and how had my boss not realized that he was being pranked, was he an idiot? I wasn’t blamed at all, of course; I had been working under my boss’s close supervision.

    My boss didn’t get fired, but there were some good outcomes for me. For one thing, the partner told me to send him a copy of any memos I wrote for my boss, and that ended him taking credit for my work. My boss also stopped deleting my dockets for my research. Plus I got a belated Christmas bonus for having to give up on my alleged vacation to write the stupid memo.

    I really hated working in that place, but whenever times were tough, I’d think back to the Case of the Forged Memo, and that always brought a smile to my face.

    13:45 UTC


    When I wrote my dad’s obituary I didn’t mention my mom and exposed her years of abuse and neglect.

    I originally posted this in PettyRevenge but it was removed so I’m guessing it’s more appropriate for here 🤷🏼‍♀️

    My dad died December 1, 2022. He briefly lived with me before his passing after a long stint of being chronically ill for the past 15+ years.

    As his health declined he relied more on my mom for things. Prior to this she was never a great person and fully took advantage of his disability and mobility issues as he declined. For years she claimed be separated and divorced, talking to other men on the internet. She made claims many times she was going to move away and marry someone else. In addition she took advantage of him financially. We tried every legal avenue we could find to have her kicked out, arrested, or force her out but those attempts were met with responses that it was a civil matter and there was nothing that could be done. He made me durable POA and added me to all his accounts. This is a small portion of her abuse but I promise her actions were no less than neglectful and exploitive. I’d tried for years to get my dad to move in with me but he wasn’t leaving the house he worked so hard to pay for.

    I brought him home on hospice the day after thanksgiving and made sure his final days were the best they could be. After meeting with the funeral home to carry out his final wishes I was told they required consent from my mother to allow me to cremate him. It was no surprise she initially told me no and only agreed after I “allowed” her to keep the social security survivor benefits, which would have been hers anyway 🙄

    I wrote his obituary and left her out of it. There was not a single word or mention he’d ever been married or had a spouse. I didn’t feel she deserved to be recognized or viewed as a grieving widow when she spent their marriage as a shitty spouse and person. She lost her mind and there were many questions from friends and family alike.

    I’ve spent years in therapy working through maternal narcissistic abuse and believe if she didn’t want me to talk about it she shouldn’t have done it. When people asked about it I was honest about the years of abuse my father and I endured from her. I’ve completely ruined the public image and victim complex she spent years creating. I might be the villain and AH in this scenario but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

    07:03 UTC


    An Attorney’s Dream Case: My Parents vs the Bank

    In 1973, my parents had enough money to build a little ranch house in the country. The small bank in town approved the mortgage & the bank signed a contract to give “Bob” the money to build the house.

    Bob, as it turns out, was overbooking himself all over town, leaving his clueless minions to do the actual work. The build took longer and longer, with more and more work having to be ripped out and redone.

    We’re not talking about using the wrong color paint or nailing up some wonky trim, here. The architect forgot to fully erase a line on the blueprints & the framers built a wall through the bathtub. My mother was told “Don’t put anything heavy in the kitchen cabinets” bc they were attached to the drywall – not the studs - using a few roofing nails through the back of each cabinet. The garage door opening was framed into the living room instead of towards the driveway. And so on.

    When the bank’s representative showed up for the final inspection, my parents met him in the front yard & refused to sign off on Bob’s work. Then representative became angry, as the bank had paid Bob a lot of money. He strode to the front door & pulled on the doorknob, whereupon the entire door – casing included – fell on him. It had simply been wedged (not nailed) into place.

    The bank called Bob, who finally showed up to supervise the work himself. The only problem was that Bob wasn’t any better at building a house than his minions were. My parents still refused to sign off on the house.

    My mother was a SAHM in a nasty rental with two tiny children while my dad was working two jobs while this was going on. Throughout the entire process, the bank & Bob treated them very poorly, bullying my mom & lying to my dad. What should have been an exciting time for my parents was ruined. My mom cried a lot. My dad got depressed.

    Finally, the bank threatened my parents with foreclosure & Bob threatened to sue my parents for breach of contract bc the bank refused to pay him any more money.

    So my exhausted parents went to an attorney & gave him the rundown. Plumbing, electrical, tiling issues – the whole sorry mess. My parents were scared. All they had was their small downpayment savings, so if this became a lengthy court battle the bank & Bob would win.

    The attorney, “Tom”, was kind, but my dad said he could tell that he and Mom were doomed from Tom’s facial expressions as he sorted through the paperwork. Then, abruptly, Tom smiled. “Let’s get everyone together for a meeting,” he told my parents. “Tomorrow.”

    So my parents, Tom, the bank’s representative, the bank’s attorney, Bob, & Bob’s attorney met at the bank.

    Tom didn’t give anyone else time to begin. He said, “Well, my clients have decided that they no longer want this house. Please remove it.”

    Everyone else start to laugh. “Remove it? Have you lost your mind?”

    Tom, in a sweeping, theatrical gesture, placed a deed on the table.

    “My clients own the land the house is sitting on outright. They no longer want the house. Get the house off my clients’ land.”

    Bob’s attorney stared at the deed, & then turned & stared at Bob. “You built a house on land YOU DON’T OWN?” Bob nodded.

    The bank’s attorney started yelling at the bank’s representative. “YOU DIDN’T FINANCE THE LAND THE HOUSE IS ON?” The representative stammered, “Uh…no…?”

    Tom said firmly, “As I said, gentlemen, you’re trespassing on my clients’ land. I expect the house to be removed & the land returned to its original state, AT ONCE.”

    My Dad said he’ll remember the blank looks everyone on the other side of the table passed to one another for his whole life. Sure, the bank could foreclose…on a house that wouldn’t exist by the end of the week, with no way to recoup the money. They didn’t even own the land it was on. Bob was out the 50% he’d paid out of pocket, plus he was on the hook for tearing down the house & removing it. On top of that, the bank would undoubtedly want him to repay the initial 50% they’d given him.

    Could they have gone after my parents? Sure. A foreclosure would have meant bad credit for my parents moving forward. They might lose their downpayment. But to sign off on the house in its condition at that time would have meant thousands and thousands of dollars in cash to replace/repair everything from the roof to the basement before the house could be safely lived in. The bank knew my parents didn’t have that kind of money; they’re the ones who approved the mortgage!

    Suddenly, my parents were good people, it was all SUCH a misunderstanding, & the bank & Bob couldn’t do enough for them! The house was brought in line with the original blueprints & specifications immediately, at no extra cost to my parents (but at considerable cost to Bob). My parents signed the mortgage. Bob got the rest of his money (& just about broke even on the build). The bank’s representative was fired.

    And Tom, attorney extraordinaire, got a stinging tale of triumph to recall to fellow attorneys for the rest of his life!

    * Before you question this tale, please remember that 1973 was 50 years ago. Banks did things differently back then. Smaller rural banks, in particular, were not run the same way the bigger, city banks were. There were far fewer Federal regulations, & in a smaller community people didn’t always follow them, anyway. (I’m pretty sure they don’t always follow them now.)

    * Yes, they built a wall through the bathtub. No, I’m not making that up. I even left out how a plumber left his lunch bag on a partially built kitchen cabinet, but the cabinetmaker didn’t feel it was his job to move the bag so he left it there & built the rest of the cabinet around it. I don’t know where Bob found these people, but they were gems, every one of them! /s


    I must admit that I'm immensely surprised at the traction this story has gotten. 😳

    The bank & Bob put together very poorly written & pretty much unenforceable contracts. My parents' attorney figured this out & the bank & Bob had to back off.

    I thought this was interesting, but surely not the one & only time this happened. Aren't contracts being written all the time by clueless people? Is this really that unique? I guess we should be glad it is! 😂 Thanks for reading! ❤️

    20:19 UTC


    A lawyer's pro revenge on a wife beater

    Let’s call him Joe. I have to call him something, the man I ruined, but I can’t call him by his real name, so let’s call him Joe. Joe was a wife beater.

    I was hired by Joe’s brother-in-law, the brother of the wife that Joe beat. My client was also Joe’s ex-business partner. Aside from the whole ‘you beat up my sister thing,’ my client had another beef with Joe, a serious business beef. My client took it to court, and gave me the case to handle.

    Joe and his lawyers fought me long and hard. Joe was confident that his bullshit and outright perjury would carry the day. It had always worked before. His bullshit, and his fists, had won him a good settlement with his ex-wife, free of child support, so maybe he thought that threats and lies would carry the day once more, but he was wrong, and after the trial I had a judgment against him, a big judgment, far bigger than he could pay.

    Joe twisted and he turned and he shimmied and shaked, but after a while I’d located and taken all his assets. It was easy, really; Joe had no thought of consequences, and so he didn’t lawyer up until it was too late. If one of my clients ever sues you, you’re in trouble, because my clients lawyer up before they even know your name. But Joe didn’t lawyer up until the process server threw the papers at his feet, and by then, it was far too late.

    I went through Joe’s assets like a meat grinder, and after a while Joe had but one property left, a house, and he clung to that house, for it was rented out, and his sole source of income. Joe lived in the unfinished basement, and he survived on what the upstairs tenants paid him. He cashed their rent cheques at payday loan places, paying hefty fees, but it was worth it, because he knew that I’d garnish any bank account that he opened.

    Joe managed to hide his rental place from me for a while because he owned it through a numbered company, but my investigator found him one day, and followed him home.

    Joe self-repped his way through the next stage, which took a couple of years, while I punctured his corporate veils and his sad efforts at a fraudulent conveyance, but in the end, I had his last house, the house where he lived in the unfinished basement. Joe stepped out one day to get a pack of cigarettes, and when he came back the sheriff had changed the locks.

    “Can my client at least live in the basement?” Joe’s lawyer said to me, pro bono, because by this point Joe had nothing to pay lawyers. I knew the pro bono guy; he practiced law nearby. As I was talking to him, I could see Pro Bono guy’s office window across the parking lot from my office tower window.

    “Ask the purchaser,” I said, “it’s out of my hands,” and it was. I told Joe’s lawyer that the new owner (a nominee, one of my client’s employees) wouldn’t let him back into his shitty basement apartment. Joe, a man who had owned this and that here and there and all over town had just lost the last thing he owned on earth. Except for his truck. He still had his truck left.

    Joes’ truck was this big ass gas guzzling beast that he drove around in. It was too old and too frail to be worth seizing, so I let Joe keep it, and I was glad I did that, because now the truck was where Joe slept. Until he made a mistake, and lost his truck, too. He lost his truck the day I got a phone call from the tenants at the house that Joe used to own.

    “He came back, and parked his truck across the driveway, " the tenant said, adding that Joe had gone nuts. He’d parked his truck there in a rage, out of spite, and then walked into town, saying he’d be back later that day to sleep in his truck.

    “Can you get around the truck?” I asked. The tenant could not. The driveway was blocked. I called one of the tow truck guys that I used to defend back in my criminal lawyer days, and in a couple of hours that truck was gone, and parked somewhere else, somewhere special, in accordance with my specific instructions.

    “My guy wants his truck back,” the pro bono lawyer said the next day when he called me.

    “Not happening,” I said. I stood in my office fifteen floors above the parking lot, and looked down where I imagined my pro bono counterpart was standing in his office, facing the same lot.

    “But you have no right to the truck,” he said.

    “He has no right to block a man’s driveway,” I replied. It was terrible, really, standing up high, pronouncing words that took away a man’s final asset, the last thing he owned on earth. I imagined that this must be what God feels like, before he strips a man of everything and sends him to hell.

    “Are you really gonna make me go to court over this?” said Pro Bono guy.

    “Do what you gotta do,” I said, and Pro Bono guy said his client was coming in the next day to sign an affidavit, and then they were going to court to get the truck back. But I was unconcerned.

    The next day was bright and the sun was shining and it was nine a.m. as I looked out the window, and sipped my coffee. My phone rang. I picked up. It was Pro Bono man.

    “Why didn’t you tell me that Joe’s truck was parked right outside my office?” His voice was tight, and I could tell that he must have been shaking with anger.

    “Is that so?” I said, staring out at Joe’s truck parked fifteen stories below me. “How careless of my bailiff to leave the truck where your client could easily take it back. I really must speak to him.”

    “Very funny. My client’s going to sue--”

    “No he isn’t. He’s going to get in that truck and drive away, right now. I told my tow guy to fill up the tank, and he gave it an oil change too, gratis. Tell your client to get in his truck and drive off, and that if I ever see that truck again, I’ll seize it, to satisfy the rest of my client’s judgment.” Pro Bono guy tried to argue, but I was firm. Then I put the phone down, and picked up my coffee.

    A few minutes later Joe walked out of his lawyer’s office and over to his truck. As he walked I saw that there was no longer a bounce to his step. The joy had gone out of him. Joe wasn’t the first guy I ruined and he won’t be the last, but he is the only one whose final ruin I witnessed from on high, from my office, and it was one of the most powerful experiences of my life, watching a man walk to his truck, knowing that I had stripped him of everything else he had, and that he owed his possession of his last asset, his truck, to my mercy.

    Joe drove away, his big ass ancient truck spilling clouds of smoke from the exhaust. I was pretty sure I’d never hear from him again, and I never did.

    01:14 UTC


    I blew up a romance scammers life

    I blew up a romance scammer’s life

    This one is fresh and still unfolding but it’s already hit an explosive level. Some details intentionally vague.

    Context: I’m a woman in my 30s with a reasonably good corporate type job in a field with lots of room for growth and am recently back into the dating scene after a decade. I’m kind of a “would be a 10 if she lost 30 lbs” looking girl, beautiful face if a bit chubby, but I never have issues getting a date. I’m not well off but I’m stable and have a bit of spending money. I live in a large multicultural city and my ex was an immigrant so I’m open to dating people of any origin.

    What happened: A few weeks ago I met a very charming man from a Latin American country only a couple years younger than me. Seemed very sweet, cuddly, intelligent, family oriented, emotionally available, educated and in a good profession back home in his country and had a lot in common with me. Chemistry seemed amazing inside and outside the bedroom. He was honest that he was in my country on a tourist visa but hoping to stay. I made it clear I wouldn’t be able to help him with that but we’d have a fun summer fling while he was here. If he managed to stay or come back, only then would we consider a real relationship.

    Then the other shoe dropped. A couple weeks and 4 dates in, During a text conversation about my work, he asked me to be his sugar mommy. I initially laughed and assumed it was a joke. He kept pushing and clearly said it wasn’t. Of course, feeling insulted by this, I went off on him. He maintained it as a serious ask until I hit a nerve with my complaints about how embarrassed he should be to ask me that. Then he got angry and insulted me for thinking he was serious about it. No apology for being hurtful to me.

    Obviously what I did next was take screenshots and cry about it to my closest friends. I was hurt that I was fooled into thinking he liked me and that he thought I needed to pay for a man. My friends started the fuse on what happened next.

    One of my friends started snooping more on his online presence, together we found about 6 different Instagram accounts that were him using different variations of his name and different photos of himself all uploaded in batches. On Facebook, a similar pattern. All very scammy and suspicious looking. He’d been foolish enough on one of his profiles though to follow and tag the employer that he was working for illegally on his tourist visa in my country. So I contacted another close friend in a local law enforcement agency that works with immigration. She looked up his file, he had a wife and daughter at home!

    I released the hounds after that. The friend who helped me investigate online made several group chats on multiple platforms with all of his family (immediate and extended) and friends. She released all the screenshots as well as a rant about how shameful it was. As they started blocking her, she added more people. I found his sisters phone number, she sent her messages on there too. Everyone he knows including his wife know he’s unfaithful and trying to take advantage of women.

    30 mins after the online bombardment started I got a rude message from him about how I should be smart enough to know he was joking and he doesn’t need to sell himself. I didn’t reply.

    Next step? Online immigration reporting form with all the info we found; work info, employer name and address, his home address, full name, dob, photos, screenshots admitting to working. Usually these reports take months to be reviewed if at all but I gave the file number to my law enforcement friend. Two days later, law enforcement officers visited him at home. They found him with a phone number that was issued to a local resident. All his roommates also had numbers issued to the same person, a direct link to the employer. He received a caution for trying to scam me, a no contact order and a flag on his immigration file that based on his country of origin will likely mean he can never return as well as a strict warning to not work without authorisation. His roommates also received warnings. His employer received a visit next. They found significant proof that they’d been employing him illegally as well as multiple other people. Their investigation is still ongoing but so far they are likely to receive tens of thousands in fines or possible jail time. The guy isn’t getting deported because the government would have to pay for it and proceedings take longer than his remaining visa time but he’s now upgraded from a flagged file to a multi year ban on reentry to my country. If he bothers me again though he will be deported as well.

    Hope he enjoys going back to his angry wife and the ridicule from everyone he knows. See ya again never!

    EDIT: The comments on my appearance are a tongue in cheek way of describing how he may have viewed me and speak more to his failure to select the correct victim profile. It’s not that deep and I don’t really care about my appearance very much. Relax a bit peeps.

    It’s up on nuclear revenge now too https://www.reddit.com/r/NuclearRevenge/comments/15vhzob/i_blew_up_a_romance_scammers_life/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

    15:01 UTC

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