It wasn’t me, but a college buddy. But it was so sweet, I have to share.

There was a really beautiful, popular girl my friend, call him Mike, had a serious crush on. He asked her out several times but she was always “busy”. She never really discouraged him though, I think she liked the attention.

One day Mike got ahold of two tickets to a sold out U2 concert. He bought them from a friend who had to go out of town for an emergency.

Mike immediately called the girl of his dreams and of course she accepted. He was thrilled and everything seemed fine.

The night of the concert they’re at the arena waiting for the show to begin and she suddenly says, “Oh, I see my friend, I’ll be right back!”

You guessed it, she never returned. Mike stayed at the seats since that’s the only place she would logically look for him. When the show ended, Mike ever the gentleman, waited for a long time so he could drive her home. But saw no sign of her. She didn’t answer her phone or texts. So he left feeling so hurt.

By the next morning he was rightfully pissed! She called him around noon apologizing and saying she ran into her ex they had a long talk and worked out a lot of stuff and lost track of time. She had actually missed the concert and blah, blah, blah.

He accepted her apology and asked if they could try again. She accepted and told him how very nice and forgiving he was. She had underestimated him!

So the next Saturday evening he took her to a very expensive seafood restaurant about an hour up the coast. He was polite and chatty the whole way up there. He made the reservation in her name.

They were seated, ordered a nice bottle of wine, some expensive appetizers and entrees, then Mike excused himself to go to the men’s room. He very deliberately said, “I’ll be right back.”

He walked out to the parking lot and drove away. And became the hero of every good guy who’s been treated like crap by a girl because she just didn’t give a damn about his feelings.

I still love that story!!

My dad was a coal miner in Yorkshire, UK. He started work aged 14 in 1935 and retired aged 60 in 1981.

Circa 1978 (when I was 15), he complained that somebody kept stealing his Kit Kat chocolate biscuit from his snap tin (sandwich box). This kept happening and he was getting really pissed about it, as much the principle as anything else: Miners didn’t steal from their workmates. Except that one was now doing that. Like most working guys those days, he had his routine. Lunch was a flask of tea, sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit. If somebody steals part of your lunch when you’re down a coal mine for 8 hours, you can’t just nip out to a nearby shop.

I was pissed too when he told me what was going on. He was a nice old guy and I didn’t like anyone doing anything bad to him. Nobody was gonna hurt my dad with impunity. So I had an idea.

Very carefully, I unwrapped a Kit Kat (the two-fingered variety). In the 70′s Kit Kat biscuits had an inner wrapper of aluminium foil and an outer wrapper of paper which you could slip off sideways (not the one-use sealed plasticated-paper wrap like now that you have to tear to open).

Having found a nice fresh soft brown dog turd out on the pavement, I used a knife to fill in the gap between the two fingers, creating a strip of shit maybe four inches long, a quarter inch wide and a quarter inch deep, right down the centre of the bar, where it wouldn’t be obvious. Technique-wise, it was like pointing masonry. Only somewhat smellier. Then I carefully re-wrapped the Kit Kat.

Dad thought it was a great joke and took it with him to work as usual. Halfway through his shift, he heard some guy further down the coalface barfing his guts up and spitting profusely. He couldn’t stop work to find out who it was as he drove a massive coal-cutting machine (known as working “on the chocks”). Sure enough though, come break time, he opened his snap tin to find the Kit Kat gone. That, however, was the last time it ever went missing again.

My dad died of emphysema and pneumoconiosis in 1993, the usual coal miners’ diseases. To his dying day though, he would still fall about laughing when regaling friends with the story of how his son had “put paid” to the Kit Kat thief with a shit sandwich.

My Maternal uncle (mother's brother) has two daughters. One of them is the same age as me. We both were good at studies, we had been getting almost equal marks but I studied in a small school nearby my village, she was studying in a better school as they were staying in town. My uncle used to call my mother to ask my results , this was going on till my 10th std, we had been getting calls from him only on my result day.. He never called us to ask about anything except results.

I remember When I was in 10th he had been calling after every preparatory exam. On final result day he was eagerly waiting for my results even more than us, he called many times and asked “at what time results are going to be declared.. “

That day we really got irritated by him my brother received his call and said “Uncle, please note down her registration number and check and tell us.” He didn't tell anything.

Finally got the results, I secured 93%. but we didn't get call from him, we were shocked and we called him and asked his daughter's results. She got 88%, that's why we didn't get a call since he had already checked my results too. But when we called him he said “she got less than me because she studied in English medium and I studied in kannada medium and it's easy to get marks in kannada medium.”

I didn't say a single word, but I didn't ignore his words too.

After 10th, I took science, she took science as well. Those days were very difficult as I had studied in kannada medium till 10th, those long and difficult words, those hostel days, I cried a lot but I didn't give up. I tried so hard to give my best and got 92% in 2nd PU Final exam, she got 71%. And I got 3000 ranking in CET and she got 27000. I got a seat in good engineering college, she got average one.

This time I had a lot of words to answer his previous question but I didn't tell anything. After this he almost stopped calling.

During my final year I got placed in one good company for 5 lpa package, unlike him we didn't inform but somehow he heard this, so he called me, Initially I thought he called me to congratulate but my expectation was totally wrong.

He said “His daughter is not attending any software companies rather she is preparing for government exams.”

I didn't even care about what he told, I just ignored. One of my friends studying in her college told me that not even single company had visited their campus.

Last month I got a call from him and he invited me to his daughter's wedding, I just asked, “why uncle, Isn't she preparing for govt exams?.” He was ready with his answer that she will be preparing after marriage also..

Not only me, everyone has such irritating relatives. Annoying relatives are part of life, you don't have to believe them, react to them, or agree with them at all, though chances are you'll be frustrated and annoyed a lot. Just ignore and grow up by accepting their challenges.. But never give up your dreams.

Choose your battles wisely. Be silent and let your success shout.

Edit 1 : Thank u so much for the edits Shashwat Malviya, Puneet Prakash

Edit 2 : Thank u so much Quorans from the bottom of my heart, you made my day..! Blessed to have you all.

Most of you have mentioned in your comments that you have faced all these troubles. This is the situation everywhere. Yes.. I know, that's why I shared this just to remind you that we don't even have to care about these things because we are living here for our parents, our loved ones. In my case, not only this guy, but many of my relatives also have done such things and are still doing.

I won't say that they irritated me, I would rather say that they have been motivating me to become stronger. I am not stopping here, you too don't forget to surprise them.

We Indians are blessed with a huge number of relatives. There are ones we don't like, there are few we love.

Take a deep breath and let them talk.

After working as an independent (straight commissioned) sales representative for 24 years the owner of the company advised me that he no longer needed me and I had 2 weeks left with the company. I had developed a rather good territory over the years and my customers regarded me as a “go to guy" and friend. I was 63 years old and facing a real problem. My expertise was highly specialized and there were very few opportunities available.

There was only one possibility in my field and I called a very minor competitor who gladly agreed to meet with me. During our meeting I explained to him that my soon-to-be former employer had 3 sons “working “ at the business and I had learned that my territory would be assigned to one of them. I was “hired" on the spot at a higher commission rate. Two days later he provided me with a company cellular phone and advised me my office would be ready in a week. On the following Friday I removed my personal effects and unceremoniously departed my former colleagues only leaving behind one item, MY OLD COMPANY CELLULAR PHONE. For some unknown reason I changed the settings to call forward all incoming calls to my new number.

My customer friends kept calling me and I would give them my new number. Whenever high maintenance customers called I would politely advise them of my departure. A year later I got a call from one very irate former employer who had lost over half of my customers to a very minor competitor.

He later sold the company to a conglomerate. None of his sons were employed by him at that time.

I'm now 72 and still answering calls from a few customer friends. I still have a company cellular phone and although I told Bill to let me pay for it he said no!

A guy that I was fooling around with wanted things between us to get more serious. I’ll call him A. I declined his offer as I had just gotten out of a serious relationship and didn’t want to be anybody’s girlfriend.

In response A decided to call my work to tell them that I was a total bitch who smoked pot before work every day and that I stole money from the store.

My manager Joe laughingly told me about the call when I came in for my shift at 3:00 PM. “I told him, no man she doesn’t steal from us. We have cameras literally positioned over top of the registers. We don’t do drug testing so even if she does smoke you’re wasting your time because I don’t give a shit.”

I wasn’t in trouble with my place of employment, but I was still pretty pissed off that A was trying to get me fired.

Joe suggested that I call his work and do the same. He put the store phone in my hand and said “Do it from here so he won’t know it was you. Just dial nine to call out.”

I considered my options. I really didn’t want A to get fired. I was just about to put the phone back down on the receiver and forget the whole thing.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ a barrage of texts came to my cell phone. Each more insulting and threatening than the next, and all from A.

I dialed 9 and called the fast food place that A worked at. I asked to speak to the manager on duty.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully, “I just wanted to let you know that your employees are really disrespectful and rude. After what happened yesterday I won’t be a customer of yours anymore.”

“I’m so sorry ma’am. If you could give me some more details I’d love to see if we could resolve the situation. Can you tell me what happened?” The manager sounded very concerned.

“Well, I came in yesterday and while I was ordering food the guy who took my order was kind of hitting on me. I tried to be nice about it, I really did. He asked for my phone number. I said I wasn’t giving it to him because I’m already dating someone. He called me a lying, stuck-up bitch.”

The manager listened to my whole story “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Can you describe him to me? Do you remember his name by chance?”

“Well…” I paused for dramatic effect. My manager Joe was standing next to the phone listening in, “he was a short stocky guy with blonde hair. I’m pretty sure his name was A. I wasn’t going to complain about it, but after I left I couldn’t stop thinking about how rude he was. Then I started thinking that if he had been that way towards me there had to have been other women that he spoke to the same way, and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“So you decided to call in the complaint,” The manager said, “I totally understand. Now don’t you worry about a thing. He won’t be speaking to anybody else like that again. Thanks for calling it in hon.”

The next day, I got a call from A raving about how he had been fired from his job, and he knew that either I or his ‘baby mama’ had something to do with it.

The best part was that he believed me when I said I had no idea what he was talking about.

Mine was in the Air Force. I had a racist for an immediate supervisor who always gave me average ratings on my performance. I didn’t realize how bad I was getting screwed until one of my counterparts (who was a total screw up) was shocked that he higher ratings than myself. A “3” is considered average (which I was getting on my reviews). This “screwup” was getting 5’s which is the highest score. I was thinking “how the HECK did he get a 5??” This dude missed time, came to work drunk, was reprimanded for fights….been to jail….etc. my record was SPOTLESS. Always the first on the job and the last to leave. Kept my uniform super clean. So I realized that I’m working twice as hard as this other dude and getting a much lower score.

This was in the 1990’s. I overheard a conversation with my racist supervisor one day about what he wanted to be when he leave the military. He stated that he wanted to be a highway patrol officer “so that he can legally hit minorities”. He always made crude jokes about Mexicans and blacks. As an African American myself I hated this dude’s guts. His leadership skills were the worst. I hated every day of working with him.

One day it was his last day of work. The shop was going to throw a going away party for this racist pig. There was an option to donate $10.00 to the potluck to participate in the party or miss out and work. I chose to work. I’m not donating a DIME to this dude’s going away party.

After he gracefully disappeared from the job I thought that would be the last I’ve heard of him. NOPE! I was wrong. Found out later that he did apply for the state highway patrol position.

The timing on this particular day couldn’t have been more perfect. Two men from the highway patrol were visiting our unit and I happened to be the ONLY person there. They asked me “who’s in charge?” Well, I’m the only airman in the shop so I was actually in charge. I asked them what’s going on? They told me that they are doing a follow up on a gentleman who applied for highway patrol who used to work at this unit. I told them I have detailed files on this person. What made this even better was the fact that one highway patrol officer was black, the other was Hispanic. I was so nervous in hopes that our main supervisor didn’t show up because he would give this guy a decent feedback. I wanted them to hear the DARK side of this scumbag.

I told them that he was a decent worker at best but here are some documents I wanted to share. Luckily I kept my old floppy disk handy with all of the stuff I wrote to the higher chain of command about this racist pos. The statements had dates and times I written down of his racist comments over the years. Too many to write in this essay. But let’s just say it was two pages worth (front and back).

The look of disgust was very apparent on their faces. One of them asked me “people like him still exist in the military?” I replied “shockingly, yes”. They asked me, “did you ever want to knock this dude the F- -K out?” (Many Times I did).

To make a long story short, months went by and I didn’t hear anything. Then one day I overheard a conversation about my former supervisor being turned down for his highway patrol job and was working at a Wal-Mart as a warehouse worker. In all honesty, I take GREAT pleasure in feeling that my sneaky swift actions were the reason.

Many years ago I drove into NYC to visit a friend for the weekend. Sunday evening I started up my car to drive home and smoke came out of the front end, which is never a good thing. I called AAA and some thingamabob was busted (I don’t remember which part) and needed fixing in order to drive the car. Being a Sunday, not much was open, but I found a car repair place that could do the work, so I had my car towed there. They said yes they could fix the car, but mysteriously all the credit card machines were broken, so I’d have to pay cash. They wouldn’t even take a check. Of course ATMs had a limit to the amount of cash you could take out per day, and the daily amount was less than what was needed, so they said I had to stay in NYC until I had enough cash before they would do the repair. I felt like they were holding my car for ransom, but there was nothing I could do. Fortunately I could stay at my friend’s place, but this meant I had to take Monday off from work. There was something about this place which didn’t seem right, but I don’t know a lot about cars and I didn’t know what else I could do.

By Monday afternoon I had amassed enough cash for the expensive repair, which didn’t take long, and got on the road to drive home. I wasn’t too far from home when the new part stopped working and smoke came out of the car again. Once again AAA towed me, this time to my mechanic. He took one look at the part and told me they had installed an old broken down part instead of the new one I had paid for. He had to pull it out and now install the actual part I had paid for. I was furious. Fortunately he knew what agencies to report this to in the State of NY and said he’d prepare whatever statement was needed to support that I was ripped off.

The next day I started calling and filing reports and claims against this shoddy repair facility in NYC. So the agency that handles such things went there to get their records and while there noticed so many things that were in violation of standards that they ended up revoking their license and shutting them down! Also turns out they had had their eye on this place and my reports were the evidence they needed to put them out of business for good.

For good measure, they also got a certified check from the place not only returning all funds that I had paid, but also including all the costs I paid to my mechanic to actually do the correct repair as punitive damages.

So for ripping off an out-of-state woman, they ended up paying for my repair and getting their business shut down. Sometimes crime doesn’t pay. Revenge is sweet.

I once got revenge on the CEO of a company for which I used to be employed. I didn’t cause him any of the detriment that he caused me. Instead, I was given the opportunity to teach him a very valuable lesson.

Here’s the story:

I was 16, and was given the opportunity to work at the grocery store in the small town where I lived. It was basically the only place for a teenager to work in town, so I was lucky to have the job. I never worked past 10:30 PM, my boss made sure my work didn’t interfere with my school activities, and the work made me happy. In the beginning, my duties included stocking shelves at night, and cleaning the entire store. My boss quickly recognized and rewarded my hard work with more responsibilities. I went from stock boy/cleaner, to cashier, to evening manager (once I graduated high school). My duties as the evening manager included running the store at night, reconciling sales, taking deposits to the bank, and locking up after work. I had a great relationship with my store manager, and the regional manager over our area of stores.

The store was one of a few dozen in a chain started by the owner of an oil company as a way to distribute his gasoline. The employees held a high regard for the owner. In the few times he visited the store he was kind, and thanked us for our work. He was working toward his retirement, and his son-in-law was transitioning into the CEO role.

As many teenagers in the 90s did, I grew out my hair. As my hair was growing longer, my regional manager asked me kindly to keep my hair out of my eyes (either in a store cap or in a pony tail). There were no rules for appearance in the small company, but he wanted me to be as professional and approachable as possible since I was in a position of management. I was happy to oblige.

In the late 90s, store was being remodeled and ownership and C-level folks in the company were coming around more often. Evidently, one of the ‘good-ole’ boy higher-ups in the company didn’t like my appearance, and said something about it to my regional manager. I was a valued employee, and my regional manager made it clear that my appearance was a non-issue. He reminded him that there were no rules against my long hair in the company guidelines. Nevertheless, my regional manager made me aware of the situation, and warned me that this higher-up might be around again and to be on my toes if he said something.

A couple of weeks later, this ‘good-ole’ boy came back to the store with some paperwork to deliver to the store manager. I had been instructed ahead of time to take the paperwork on her behalf, but she did not know who would be delivering it. I had just cut off my long hair days before, and pierced both ears. The same guy-with-long-hair-hating guy walked up to the counter where I was checking groceries, and asked for the manager. I told him that I was the manager on duty and I was expecting some paperwork to be delivered. I don’t remember the exact words, but they were something like:

“You couldn’t be in charge. Our company would never put someone that looked like you in charge.”

I was completely caught off-guard. I asked him what he meant.

He said that I looked like a girl with my ears pierced, and that there’s no place for that here. He said that I had to take off the earrings. I respectfully defended myself. I told him that there were no rules established for appearance. I had been a model employee for several years, and was entrusted with the store every evening that I worked.

He reprimanded me in front of some of our regular customers for talking back to him. He left the paperwork and walked out of the store. I saw him pull out his cell phone to make a call as he was leaving.

It was only a few minutes later when my regional manager called the store to talk with me. He wanted to hear my side of the story. He apologized, but told me this guy was hell-bent on making an issue of my appearance.

A week went by and I saw that I was scheduled for a Saturday morning. That was unusual since I was the night manager. I arrived for work and the regional manager was there. He talked with me in the office and told me how sorry he was to have to let me go. I asked on what grounds. He replied with insubordination.

I was at a loss. Even to this day I’ve never been so much as “written up” at any place of employment. I told my regional manager that I was going to fight this. He even did me the courtesy of writing the number down for the EEOC (Equal Employment Opportunity Commission) from the poster in the office.

I went home (which was with my parents as I was home from college for the summer), and explained to my dad what was happening. He didn’t really want me to pursue the EEOC thing, but I was determined to stand up for myself against the ‘good-ole’ boy corporate bully. After speaking with someone at the EEOC office, she believed I had a case for wrongful termination. They offered to see me that afternoon.

Before driving to Dallas to meet with someone about my case, I decided to give the company a chance to rescind the firing. I really liked my job. I loved the people at the store, and all the customers I got to interact with every day. I didn’t think I would be able to find another job that gave me the flexibility to work weekends through music school and give me full hours at every break. I really wanted to make this work. So, I called the corporate offices.

After some time on hold I was actually passed along to the CEO of the company (remember, the son-in-law) who was now fully in charge after the wonderful owner had retired.

He was aware of the firing (because he likely approved it), but had only heard the side of the story that came from his entrusted bigoted corporate bully friend.

I respectfully told the CEO that I would love to meet with him and have the opportunity to share my side of the story. I wanted to give him the whole picture of who I was, not some idea based on my appearance. He told me that he didn’t need to meet with me to understand that I was a brat trying to get away with being disrespectful to an administrator in the company. I told him that I was planning on meeting with the EEOC that afternoon, and thanked him for his time.

After my meeting, the person in charge of my case filed paperwork for wrongful termination. She said it would take a little time, but that the company would likely have to pay me an average salary for the next six months. I wish I could remember all the details of this. It was a pretty sweet deal. I got to take a semester off from working and fully focus on my college studies, while getting a paycheck in the mail. It was great!

Then came the lawsuit. The company stood by their claim that one instance of insubordination was a legal grounds to fire me, and that I was being insubordinate by not complying with the demands of a high level employee.

I received a letter in the mail that the company was suing me for a sum equal to the pay they had given me over the six month period. I don’t remember exactly everything from that letter, but I do remember something about there being so many labor lawsuits that they did their best to handle them over the phone. I was to call in to a number at a specific time to have a conference call hearing with a labor judge.

I had to tell one of my professors that I would miss class one day for the hearing. I sat on my bed in the my college apartment while I listened over the phone to two attorneys for the company argue their case against me. The CEO of the company was on the line as well. The judge had a copy of the employee handbook from my time at the company, which had no mention of employee appearance. My manager and regional manager had given positive testimony on my behalf.

The judge essentially told the company that this was petty. That their legal costs far exceeded the six months of pay they had given me. He told them it appeared they were making this personal. His ruling was that I would keep the six months of pay (thank goodness because I had been spending it)!

But that wasn’t my revenge.

After my job-free semester of college, it was time to get a holiday job that I could hopefully keep on the weekends and change to full time during my last summer before student teaching and graduating. I applied at a retail giant that had an extensive electronics section. I wanted to sell electronics.

During my final interview the human resources agent asked about my firing. She had a great time listening to the story! She asked if I would mind taking off my earrings for work there as it was against corporate policy for men. I told her that I would absolutely take off my earrings for work. Not only was it against their policy, I was planning to be a teacher soon anyway (male teachers in Texas just didn’t wear earrings at that time).

I did well at this store. HDTV had just become a thing, and projection big screens were selling like hotcakes. I was working on commission, and the paychecks were great. I worked with a lot of folks that didn’t understand all the facets of the transition to HDTV, and really couldn’t answer important questions for customers. HDTVs weren't priced like they are today. Most of the name brands were $4,000 and up at that time. Consumers desired a lot of confidence with purchases of that amount. I quickly became the go-to guy on this. Happy customers would send friends and family to me. I loved this job!

I was lucky to make one of my best sales to a retired couple that had means to buy the best of everything. They wanted the best, but they wanted to understand all of the details and be confident in their purchase. They had been to a few places that weren’t able to answer their questions, then they came to me. There was something familiar about the gentleman. I felt like I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place it.

When making the purchase, customers had to give me their name and address for delivery. I was absolutely stunned to hear his name…former owner/now retired of the grocery store chain where I used to work. I hadn’t recognized him in casual clothes and out of the store environment.

His wife was wonderfully sweet, and very complimentary of me. She said that she was about to give her family some monetary gifts for the holidays so that they could have HDTVs at their homes. She was going to recommend that they come to see me for the purchase.

I still remember how I felt the day the son-in-law CEO came to my store, and asked for Greg (only our first names were on our name tags). He didn’t really visit the grocery store like his father-in-law, and ran the company from the company headquarters. I had only seen him once in my years at the company, but I knew it was him when I shook his hand and he told me his name.

I actually trembled with nervousness (and probably a little anger), as I answered his questions. I must have seemed strange before I composed myself. I smiled as he mentioned how much his in-laws thought of me. I got him set up with his needs. He thanked me profusely, and told me that it was hard to find reliable information and good service these days.

I told him that if he needed anything to come back and see me. I rarely used them (because I was only going to be there for a year), but I pulled out a business card and handed it to him. I told him to ask for Greg, Greg Hamilton. He looked at the card and slowly looked up at my eyes.

“Greg Hamilton?”

“Yes sir, Greg Hamilton. I’m so happy I was able to help you today. I take a lot of pride in my work, and I hope that it shows.”

There was long awkward stare before he walked away. He actually turned back and took another look at me before leaving the store. I’ll never know what he was thinking. But I like to think that he realized that he fired a respectable young man that took pride in his work, solely based on bias.

The best revenge doesn’t come from hurting someone. Deep down, what we really desire is to help someone learn a lesson. I’m so thankful that I had the chance as a young man to teach an important lesson to this CEO.

Thank you for reading!

At college I shared a three bedroom house with two other people, who over time were not always the same two. One housemate was a female (I’m a guy) who I’ll call Beau. She was a spoiled little rich girl but seemed pretty nice most of the time. We had two refrigerators in the kitchen, one large one that was originally in the house and we all had shared, and a small older one that a friend gave me before he moved away, which became exclusively for my use while my space in the larger fridge then became available to the other housemates. Win-win.

Even though the house was in a nice neighborhood just across the street from the backside of the University President’s mansion, it was pretty woodsy and we did occasionally have a rat problem with them getting into the house, which I solved with rat traps. The regular kind that looked like large mousetraps. One time I caught two rats simultaneously in one trap which seemed so unusual that I wanted to show them to my other two housemates, but Beau was so horrified and disgusted that she refused to even look at them and ran from the room to be away from two dead rats hanging from the trap I was holding out. Hers was not any kind of aversion on the basis of thinking it was animal cruelty or anything like that, this was before PETA and while I was already a vegetarian mainly for those kinds of reasons it would still be a few years before I would even meet another vegetarian, so that’s how far back we’re talking, mid to late 70’s. I didn’t enjoy killing the rats, but there was no other effective way of dealing with them so I did what I had to do. Beau was just a squeamish little drama queen who felt she had to make a big show about how disgusted she was by the thought of being anywhere near a dead rat.

Fast forward a few weeks or months, I don’t remember exactly, and I eventually became aware that Beau was stealing my food! We didn’t normally share food in the house but each bought and made our own. If she had asked nicely I’d have readily shared with her or if she was obviously starving I’d have offered, but like I said she was a spoiled little rich girl with plenty of money to get her own food (which she did), and she never once asked for any of mine. One time I remember I had just made a plate of steamed fresh vegetables with melted cheese and soy sauce on it (yum) and out of the corner of my eye I watched Beau stab a nice cheesy Brussel’s Sprout off my plate with a fork and pop it into her mouth. She didn’t realize I had seen her do that, but for the next few minutes I gained some delightful schadenfreude at her expense by talking to her while looking right at her, and she had a very difficult time trying to reply meaningfully with a whole Brussel’s Sprout still in her mouth. I knew what she’d done and it was kind of trivial so I didn’t blow up about it or anything like that, but that incident alerted me to how stealing my food was kind of a game to Beau, like she thought I was stupid compared to her cleverness and that I would never figure her out. She kinda had that kind of personality, and even though she had plenty of her own food I guess she enjoyed getting into mine. I used to buy some pretty nice cheeses, maybe that was a big draw for her.

So I started paying closer attention to my food and marking bottles and things like that once I caught on that Beau was the kind of person who’d steal from her housemates. Soon enough I began to notice telltale signs that she had gone through my fridge while I wasn’t home, taking little nibbles and shavings from anything she could. The cheese especially was obvious that she’d cut pieces off because she’d do it in sloppy ways that I never would. I thought about putting a padlock on my refrigerator but felt that was not something I should ever have to do, and I didn’t want to raise the issue to a level of confrontation with Beau, preferring to remain on otherwise good terms with her. If I’m going to wreck a relationship with someone I share a house with, it has to be for a lot more important reason.

Then one day we got some more rats in the house (it would be a while before I would discover their entry hole behind the big refrigerator, looking exactly like the upside-down U you see in old comic strips), and I caught one in a rat trap when I was the only person home. Suddenly inspiration came to me, and I wrapped the dead rat in the smallest piece of aluminum foil that would just barely cover him up in one layer, with only maybe 1/8″ of overlapping seam at the most. Then I placed that assembly into a small plastic Baggie with a rubber band around it, with a single hair under the rubber band so I could easily tell if my little dead rat package had been opened. You can probably tell where this story is going but I’ll finish it anyway, and I didn’t even need the hair to tell me the package had been opened. It was only the second day after I had left it on the bottom shelf of my refrigerator that I came home from school and saw that the aluminum foil was all crinkled up and the baggie wasn’t wrapped smoothly around it anymore. I only wish I could have been a fly on the wall watching Beau gagging in revulsion and suppressing the urge to barf as she rewrapped the package, especially because it required a lot of handling to get the skimpy piece of aluminum foil to cover up the dead rat completely. Even after all these years I still get a belly laugh once in a while when I think about the discomfort level my thieving food mooch housemate must have experienced, oh she was such the entitled little princess! For a while afterward I would put a secret detective hair under the gasket of my refrigerator before going to school in the morning, but it was never disturbed and my cheese never got chopped on in funny ways again either, so I knew Beau learned her lesson and stayed out of my refrigerator. She never said anything about the incident and neither did I, but she found another place to live within a couple of months.

It was nice to see her go.

This isn’t my revenge but it is sweet enough to share.

A black male Oberlin College student was stopped for shoplifting wine at Gibson’s Bakery and Market in downtown Oberlin, OH. Two of his buddies joined in to help their schoolmate.

All three then assaulted clerk Allyn D. Gibson, son of store owner David Gibson, as police arrived. The students were arrested and pleaded guilty in August 2017 to misdemeanor charges, acknowledging in court that Allyn D. Gibson was within his right to detain the shoplifter and that his actions were not racially motivated.

Students protested outside Gibson’s Bakery for two days after the incident, passing out flyers urging people to boycott the bakery and alleging that the business engaged in racial profiling.

Students then spread pamphlets on the Oberlin college to ban the bakery. The Oberlin College Dean of Students Meredith Raimondo allegedly participated in handing out the flyers in front of the bakery. The Oberlin College Student Senate also passed a resolution claiming Gibson’s “has a long history of racial profiling and discriminatory treatment of students and residents alike.” The college administration allegedly helped spread this student senate resolution.

This type of slander and libel continued for months. The bakery got a bad reputation and lost a lot of business all for nothing.

So the bakery sued the college.

Here is the verdict and a quote from the judge:

“The verdict sends a strong message that colleges and universities cannot simply wind up and set loose student social justice warriors and then wash their hands of the consequences. In this case, a wholly innocent 5th-generation bakery was falsely accused of being racist and having a history racial profiling after stopping three black Oberlin College students from shoplifting. The students eventually pleaded guilty, but not before large protests and boycotts intended to destroy the bakery and defame the owners. The jury appears to have accepted that Oberlin College facilitated the wrongful conduct against the bakery.”

Punitive damages are still to be determined and will likely be around $22–33 million. This is a lovely revenge dessert to serve social justice warriors.

VERDICT: Jury awards Gibson's Bakery $11 million against Oberlin College

By the time this case is done, the bakery might end up owning the school.
Maybe they can open up another bakery beside Evergreen college.
And wait.

I am a frequent flyer, but at this time in my career, I wasn’t getting frequent upgrades to business class. I prefer the aisle seats, and was settling in for a long flight across the country, when a very annoyed woman informed me that I was sitting in her aisle seat.

I was embarrassed after taking a look at my boarding pass and seeing that I actually had been assigned a middle seat. Middle seats are the worst seats on the plane. You play elbow jockey with not one but two people in your row, and you still have to ask permission from the person in the aisle to use the rest room. It’s a crummy way to take a long flight.

I apologized and took my proper seat. As she sat down, she said something to me like “I bet you wish you were in the aisle seat.” I replied sheepishly that I probably did. She went on to say that she was a frequent flyer and only sits in aisle seats. I mumbled something in semi-polite response, but it was clear she was gloating.

All of a sudden, in what seemed like perfect timing that only happens in a movie, a gate agent magically appeared in our row looking for me. She asked me if I would be interested in an upgrade to business class. With a look of unbridled joy on my face, I responded “Why yes thank you, I would love an upgrade to business class.”

I gathered my gear, pulled my carry on luggage from the bin, and headed up to the front of the plane…but made sure to look back and wink at the woman in the aisle seat.

Update: Wow! 2.8K upvotes. Thanks to all, and this really did happen. The look on her face was priceless…

In the year 2015, my girlfriend broke up with me after a four-year-long relationship. Her reason was very obvious that she got bored with this relationship.

But the bitter part of it was, that we were in a commitment of getting married and spend our life together. I have never planned for our separation. It was just out of nowhere.

That time I was in my master’s second year. I scored badly in two following semester because of acute depression. Somehow I managed to score better in the final two semesters and got a good job via campus placement.

Meanwhile, I tried to convince her and get her back in my life for three years. Till last year I was running behind her. Tried everything I could do, but all in vain.

It's a long story and I have put all those gloomy years in a book. So, keeping it in short.

Last year, when I called her to talk again, she replied, “Abhishek, why don’t you understand?” [Abhishek, aap samajhte kyon nahi ho?]

That day I understood and slowly moved on. It took me almost seven-eight months to get over. Now I have no desire left for her.

Oh! You are looking for the revenge part?

Well. Her elder sister called me on this 9th of April(2019). She told me that they(her family) are unable to find a well settled for her(my ex-girlfriend). She asked me if I can marry her? I was smiling. I was a little hurt as it reminded me of everything. But I did not show any disrespect and told her to talk to my parents.

Guess what? My parents rejected the girl at once. They clearly refused even discussion. My mother asked, “Where was she for the last four years?” They had no answer.

The best part of this story is that I did not take revenge. But the Almighty himself got involved and brought her to my door. Earlier I have moved on but had a feeling of getting rejected. But now I am out of that feeling too.

Trust me when I am talking about the Almighty, because four years are more than enough to find a well-settled groom for an arranged marriage.

As I was going back to my car after a long duty, I heard a tiny meow in a bush nearby. I took a look and saw a tiny yellow kitten, scared and hungry, asking for help. Luckily, there was a restaurant nearby so I went and bought some water and a sandwich. I took out the salami and shredded it into tiny pieces, put water in a bowl and tried to get the kitten to come to me. A man with his son were passing by me as I was kneeling down and calling for the kitten and I've heard him say to his son “come on, we don't want to get fleas from this idiot and the furball”. I didn't care at all about his disgusting comment, and I was happy to see the kitten come to me shortly after. I took the kitten, and walked towards my car.

Suddenly I heard a bang. I looked and saw something happening with the man and his son. I started my journey on the road which required passing next to them. As I was passing by, the man was signalling me to stop, panicking. I was the only car in the area, it was quite early. Apparently, an air-conditioning unit somehow fell from the first floor of the building they were walking under, and hit the man in the head. He was bleeding from the side of his head and the son was crying. He asked me if I could take them to the hospital, and I offered to call the police and ambulance instead. He begged me to take them as that would be much faster, so I agreed. I put the nearest hospital in my Maps app; it was a ten-minute journey and we went on our way. The revenge? The man got to hold the “furball full of fleas” on the way to the hospital, as I was busy with Google maps. It was hilarious, he was moaning in pain, cuddling the cat, talking to his son about the kitten in a loving way in order to relax him…

I left them at the ER and before they went the son asked if they can keep the kitten. The father took my number and they left.

Later on in the day, the man called me to thank me and told me he was fine, he only got a scratch. He was lucky the falling unit missed them and just slightly bumped and scratched his head. He apologized for his rude and insensitive comment and asked if the kitten was up for adoption. I decided to keep the kitten myself, but advised them they can go to a shelter and pick another kitten to provide a home to. Then the son begged me for the kitten and I decided it's best for the kitten to be with them because it's obviously a life changer for the father and son.

They adopted the kitten and until today they send me happy photos every once in a while through WhatsApp. The boy and the kitten are inseparable.

Years ago, I found out from my kids that their father, my ex husband, was applying to get out the police department with a physical injury discharge. That meant, if approved, he could get 3/4 of his salary tax free for the rest of his life.

I was boiling mad because he laughed and told the kids it was a fake injury claimed years before. I knew I had no credibility with the police department since I divorced one of their own (he got his buddies to block an order of protection I was trying to file after he threatened to kill the children and me by faxing the judge affidavits that he was a great guy and a great family man).

The teacher I was working for at the time saw I was depressed about something. I told him my story. “Where does your husband work?” I told him the number precinct in Brooklyn. “My cousin is the Borough Chief,” my teacher said. “I’ll call him up for you.” I told my teacher to tell the chief that my ex was trying to get out on a fake injury. If he couldn't believe that, then go through his Civilian Complaints records-they were stuffed with complaints against my ex.

My teacher called his cousin and his cousin knew the name - his file was on his desk at that moment while he made a decision. The chief admitted to the teacher that he didn't feel comfortable letting him retire on the injury, but my ex’s captain cleaned up his records and was begging to let my ex go (the captain couldn't stand my ex - his nickname there was Psycho Cop).

My teacher told his cousin that he knew that the injuries he claimed were fake, and check his files over at Civilian Complaints. The chief immediately had someone watch my ex and sure enough, he got him on video and pictures at the gym, lifting weights, running on the treadmill - everything he said he couldn't do.

Then he saw the huge file on him. The chief not only denied his medical discharge, he wrote on his application “must serve full 20 years. Do not refile.” My ex was dumbfounded. His captain showed him the pictures and videos the chief had gotten, showing his physical ability. My ex spent the last years of his career in a room behind a desk, doing some paperwork. He never knew it was me and the chief’s cousin. And one week after his 20th anniversary, the captain gave him a choice - retire or get fired. My ex, who hoped to work another 5 years and add to his pension, retired that day. Most retirees get a dinner and the fellow officers chip in $20 a piece so the retiree can go on vacation. My ex got breakfast - one guy from the precinct took him out for toast and coffee and said bye.

I wouldn't have denied my ex his discharge if he truly earned it. But I knew from our 16 year marriage, that was his dream score. He told me just about every day how he was going to get one over on everyone. He was the one who got it in the end.

Additional note: this is the first time in my months in Quora I have disabled the comments. I was ticked off that I got called names for stopping my ex husband from getting disability on a fake injury. I can’t believe people out there think I did the wrong thing, so I’ll tell you about the sort of police officer he was.

• He arrested people and kept things like their driver’s licenses so he and his friends could write phony tickets to them.
• He made prisoners sing for a sandwich in which he poured ink or glue (the lucky ones just got his spit in them).
• He gave people wrong directions because he didn’t want to look stupid.

Yeah, this guy was a great cop. A real public servant. Want to know why his captain wanted him to get discharged? He would climb up on his sergeant's desk and do a Tarzan yell. And this was just some of the things he did that he told me about while we were married. And he was as abusive to me at home as he was out in public. He threatened to kill my children and me.

So for those out there who thought I was wrong in stopping my husband - I haven’t lost one minute of sleep after doing what I did. He shouldn’t get out on a fake injury. And if I deserve to go to hell for my actions, give me the asbestos suit and crank up the flames. Why not ask me before you judge me?

My wife of 30 years decided to divorce me to become an intern in Washington D.C. No reason, just wanted the divorce. When I asked her how long she wanted to leave, she said “the last ten years”. When I asked her why she wasted 10 years of her life, she replied, “Because I wanted to wait until you made enough money that I could live comfortably on my half.” True story. Ten years. About three weeks after she moved out, I met a 24 year-old woman with a “daddy complex”. Beautiful. A pole dancer and model. Dumb as a stone, but very clever. I had more sex in a week than I did the last ten years of my marriage. The girl actually fell in love with me. Unfortunately, it was my ex-wife’s best-friend’s daughter. It drove my ex-wife, and the friend, totally insane. It drove my ex to marry a guy 16 years younger than her, “Just to know I could do it”, she said. Another divorce for her. I bought my obligatory two motorcycles and traveled the world with this young girl. I finally had the life I dreamed about as a kid. Eventually, the issue of marriage came up and I had to bail. A 32 year difference in age was just too much to overcome. Afterward I dated 72 women before meeting my current wife - a fantastic woman. All through this time, my ex was miserable as she watched me earn back the money she took several times over and saw me happy as a clam. I sent her a card thanking her for divorcing me and allowing me to finally have a happy life. She is still a miserable chunk of protoplasm.

This is a totally true story. I had found out that my wife of 4 years was cheating on me. She had locked her phone, stayed out at all hours, and was acting strange. We were in the phase of trying to work it out, well actually, I had threatened to leave her, so she decided to at least pretend to end things with the nut bag she was screwing.

One day, early in the morning, I was at work and got a text from her. She never texts me at this hour, so that was weird. She was saying how she thought it might be better if she were to cut the marriage off and just be with her new boo.

She kept putting LOL after her sentences, which she never does with me. So, on a hunch, I just began to say, well, maybe we should break it off. But I pointed out how we would never be together again, never have sex again, never share all the experiences we had, ever again. I texted, “Remember the time when you apologized to me and said that you wouldn’t go back to him ever again? And you got a picture of him, from out of his car, and let me shoot my load on it??” (That never really happened.)

Then I talked about all the places we had sex and the things we did. How we even had sex recently, while I made her insult the guy as she orgasmed.

That made the texts stop. Later, my wife called me and said, “We need to talk.” I said, “About what?” She said, “The things you texted.” I feigned ignorance.

She said that I said a lot on that text, and it wasn’t even true. I said, “So?” She couldn’t say any more, but I know that it wasn’t her texting. Her boo was texting me early in the morning from her phone, trying to show me that she was his now. And I had dropped the mother lode.

But if she let me know that it wasn’t her that received the texts, then she would have to explain why someone other than her was texting me from her phone so early in the morning. And she denied everything.

But according to the texts, I knew all about who she was with and had revealed some (totally fabricated), but embarrassing details that pissed him off!

Because of those fateful texts, they broke up. Apparently, she was too much, even for a no good scum bag like him.

Revenge is so sweet.

I divorced her and haven’t looked back. That was 7 years ago. I still laugh at those texts because the dude she was cheating on me with, was particularly mean-spirited. Served him right.

My wife of seven years had me served with divorce papers at my office. She’d been in a downward spiral and was out of control. Not only had she been sleeping around with a list of people, she’d been spending money at an alarming rate, forged my name on bank loan documents, and set up house with one man she’d been screwing. She decided that she was going to come after the 50% interest I had in my family’s company. I’d been given 33% prior to marriage, and inherited another 17% when my mother died.

She’d racked up tens of thousands of dollars in debt, much of which I had no idea about, and as a final act, rented a U-Haul in my name to use to move out of our house and then failed to return it on time… nice…

She hired an attorney known in Dallas for doing high-profile divorces and I had to hire a better one in kind. This was 20+ years ago, and his rate was $350 an hour. His legal assistant was over $200 an hour, so I hired a personal secretary for 1.5 years and she assisted him and me (and his legal assistant) in creating boxes of documentation to refute all her crazy assertions.

When I was served with papers, I was smart enough not to open them, and called an attorney friend. She suggested that prior to opening the papers that I move all the money left in our joint accounts and shut down all the credit cards.

I did this immediately, and THEN opened the papers which included a restraining order that then told me that, as of reading the documents, I could not make any changes in finances, including my salary. I had multiple witnesses to attest to what time I opened the envelope.

We went to mediation and I won on all fronts, as her accusations were INSANE and refutable. Thankfully, the only real asset that we had was my interest in the family business, as I was able to prove that our home had all kinds of structural issues and was not worth what she claimed. As the family business was property prior to marriage and the rest I inherited, her claim was denied.

After everything was said and done, I owed her around $45,000 (I can’t recall the exact amount, but it wasn’t any more than this), as I’d paid off my 50% on all shared credit cards, bought her 6 months of car insurance and packed up what crap she’d not been able to take the day she moved and rented a storage unit and paid 90 days of rent on it, and then sent her a certified letter as to where it was.

We were to meet at her attorney’s office a few days after the mediation; she failed to show up in time, which was normal for her as she had an “everyone can wait for me” attitude… Her attorney was beside himself… and was PISSED. Here we are in this very upscale law firm, and she’s gotten around $45,000 in the mediation… She told them there was HUGE money involved and they were set to get a percentage. An hour into the wait, he blurted out, “I hate this BITCH”… which caused me to smile, but I had to remind him that, while I totally understood and agreed, he was representing her…. his response was to inform me how much she owed his firm, and that they feared that she was going to screw them out of their fee.

HERE’S THE GOOD PART…

I looked at him and asked him if he’d like me to make the check out for the amount I owed her to his firm so I could leave.

He asked “Would you do that?” at which point I’m stupefied… I told him flat out that anything I could do to get him 100% paid and stop her from getting a dime was fine by me.

He accepted. I wrote the check, he disappeared and came back with a check for the balance. She called him telling him she was on her way, so I waited. I was able to be there when she arrived, told her that I’d made a check out to her attorney and that I was leaving.

I had enough time to get to my car and make it to the front of the building to see her standing on the sidewalk bawling her eyes out.

In 20 years her life doesn't appear to have been all that prosperous, but she’s still married to the guy she was sleeping with. He turned out to be a major underachiever and has gotten in trouble with the IRS for attempting to refuse to pay taxes.

My life on the other hand came out GREAT! Remarried, successful beyond my wildest dreams, parlayed the family business into a much bigger business opportunity and doing very well.

She would have come out so much better off if she’d not forced me to spend over $100,000 in legal fees… oh well… as they say “Pigs get fat, hogs go to slaughter…”

I was 17 and my best friend, who is now my ex-best friend, posted a video (an embarresing video) of me on the school blog. And I got extremely mad at her.

I couldn’t do anything too bad because my parents were friends with her parents and I could possibly get grounded. I absolutely despise getting grounded, like any other normal teen

Anyway, I finally had an idea, it was pretty harmless yet extremely effective. I put a package filled with glitter and stuffed it inside her car because she had given me the keys just the day before.

She was and still is a very proud and arrogant person. Meaning that she always thought that she was in charge of the fucking world (when she isn’t and I hope to god never will be)

She opened the package and out popped glitter, spreading all over her face and her entire car. The prank was absolutely harmless, but it was horribly hard to get the glitter out of your hair.

She came up to me in the hallway and confronted me. I told her that I didn’t do anything and she started to punch me. I was about to punch back, but then I saw the principal staring at us and decided not to do anything and let her punch me.

Just before she was about to give me a bloody nose or something the principal came in and started scolding her and telling her that violence was wrong and is NEVER justified.

By now the bell had rung, but everyone was still outside, eager to see what was going to happen. The principal not only humiliated her in front of everyone, but she also got a 1 week suspension.

After the end of this I was very proud of myself and continued on with my normal life. She didn’t talk to me and I didn’t talk to her.

Walked in on Girlfriend from just out of high school cheating on me.

Got out of class early came over to her house. Her friends were out by the pool said she was in her room getting ready. They didn’t know she had a visitor. Opened the door to a very graphic scene ot took a minute for them to realize I walked in.

I just laughed turned around and walked straight to my car, dipped out, deleted and blocked her number and never looked back. Not going to lie it made me salty and objectify women for a while. But I got over it, worked my ass off for a great job.

Ran into her friend a few years later. She ended up getting an STD from that guy I caught her with. She also had dropped out of school . She was stuck single and working the same retail job.

I walked in the store with my girlfriend at the time. Caught her eye, I smiled at her but didn’t acknowledge her the whole time. My gf and I then went to the movies and ended up leaving the mall as the cheater was leaving work. May have purposely drove by in my new car.

Best revenge is success and happiness!

No way this happened in real life, you’ll say. But it did, in NYC, on the subway.

Russell, in his early 30s, is sitting on a fairly crowded subway doing the crossword puzzle, minding his own business. Much of the puzzle is filled in, but Russell is struggling with a few of the answers.

“Do you want to know what 15 Across is?”

Russell looks up and sees a man smiling down at him — a snobby professorial type — tweed coat, khakis, sensible shoes. The smug look on the guy’s face tells Russell that the guy clearly knows the answer to 15 Across and wants to tell him.

“No thanks,” Russell answers, and looks away — as the guy tells him the answer anyway.

Russell gives him a withering look — but I guess that’s just the reaction the professorial douchebag wanted.

“How about 20 Down? I can tell you what that is too,” he says to Russell, who is pretending not to hear him.

But the douchebag gives Russell the answer anyway — and at this point Russell is pissed. He calls the guy an asshole and puts away the paper. His beloved morning crossword puzzle has now been ruined for him.

That’s the end of that. Except …

Russell is fuming — wishing he could ruin the guy’s day — when he notices that the douchebag is reading a book. It is a book by Richard Yates — and Russell has read it.

AND THEN IT HAPPENS. Something pops into Russell’s head and he smiles.

Now it’s Russell’s stop, time to get off, and he passes by the douchebag reading the book to exit the subway.

Russell asks him, “Do you want to know how the book ends?

The man looks up, alarmed to see Russell, exiting the subway.

“Of course not,” he says.

“She tries to give herself an abortion with a coat hanger and dies.”

And the doors shut.

Revenge taken by me on my Maternal Uncle(My mother’s brother).

My uncle is very rich and we belong to a lower middle class family . Once my uncle visited our home that time my 10th exam were just over and I was preparing for the diploma or Polytechnic entrance exam.

Polytechnic entrance exam is very tough and mostly seats are reserved for sc/st and obc, and for a general category candidate like me it was very difficult to clear the exam in order to take admission in government college.

So when I was studying, suddenly someone knocked the door.

I opened it and my uncle was there so I greeted him by saying “Namaste”English translation “Hello” and then my mom came and invited uncle inside.

So after random conversation with my mother, my uncle asked “Vinay what are you studying?” I told him about my exam preparation.

As I was at home so I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

The T-shirt had some holes in it so after taking a look at my dressing sense, he said - “Aise bache thode hi pass honge polytechnnic me”. English translation - “ These type of children will never get pass in polytechnic”.

These words really pinched me a lot and from that day I started to study for whole day and night just only to prove my worth to my uncle and my family.

The exam day come and My exam went very well so I secured a good rank.

As my rank was very good i got a govt. college in delhi after counselling and do you know when the counselling result came ( I was at my friends house because he had a computer where we can both see our results).

The first call i made to my uncle ,not even to my mom and told him that i got a govt. college and told him that “Hum jaise bache hi clear krte hai entrance exam” English translation - “The Children's Like me always clear the entrance “ after that he congratulated me and apologized for his words.

It really makes me feel like “The Revenge is successfully taken”.

Sorry for my poor English.

Edits are welcome !

I attended a local high school that was known as one of the dodgier ones in a lower class suburb. Aside from me there were maybe 3 - 4 other Asian students (one of whom was a close friend in the same year as me), in the entire school filled with majority Caucasian Australians. We were both in year 10 at the time and usually took the bus home together when school ended.

The type of bus with an extension that was common at the time for schools in my area, the walk down the aisle would take much longer than it would on normal buses.

Anyways, there were a couple of weeks where I didn’t catch the bus home with her due to reasons I’ve forgotten, and she told me about how one of the other kids had started consistently sticking his foot out in the aisle to try to trip her over.

Mind you he did this ONLY to her every day when he saw her coming, along with pulling slanted eyes to make fun of her. He would then have a little giggle with his mates feeling awfully proud of himself. She’s a gentle soul and tried to ask him nicely a couple of times to please stop, which didn’t work so she just ignored it and stepped over it each time.

When she told me this I was seething to the point that I planned my revenge straight away.

The very next day I caught the bus home with her, and made sure that she got on right before me so that I could spot this kid. Sure enough a kid sitting on an aisle seat on the left saw us coming and stuck his foot out with a smug look on his face.

My friend stepped over his foot gingerly, but I looked him straight in the eyes, then proceeded to ‘trip’ over his foot and flung my arms out in the process with my left hand aiming for his cheek. Sure enough I got him in the most satisfying backhanded smack, then said ‘oops, sorry I tripped’ immediately after which, to my surprise, all the other kids on the bus who witnessed it started applauding. The look on his face was priceless.

This kid then complained to a teacher the next day who asked me offhandedly if I had actually physically hit someone. He happened to be my form teacher (or homeroom as others call it), and I said it was an accident, he kept sticking his foot out in the bus and I tripped. The teacher knew that it wasn’t really an accident, but he let it slide since I was always one of the quiet good kids and kept to myself and my small group of nerdy friends :).

Needless to say he never stuck his foot out again.

**This was my very first answer so I was kind of nervous… never expected this many but thank you everyone for the upvotes!

During my divorce, our financial situation changed for a bit. That summer we placed our son in a super cheap Chicago Park District day camp. About three weeks in, I learned that a bigger kid was taking my son’s sandwich each day at lunch time. The counselors were teenagers and I spoke to them, but nothing changed. I didn’t demand anything and my son didn’t really want to be known as a snitch. Instead, I simply made 2 sandwiches and marked one. The second sandwich was full of chilli pepper. My son was nervous about it all but oh so happy that I had his back. The bully took the bait and after two bites ran off to the bathrooom!

He didn’t bother my son again.

My ex and I went through a bitter divorce. She emptied our bank accounts and cashed in all our mutual funds. She asked for half of my pension and my 401k. She asked for the two houses we owned. In short, she wanted me broke and poor. She also asked for alimony although I was unemployed at the time. The outcome of the divorce was she was allowed to keep one house, she was denied rights to my pension and 401k and was ordered to pay me back half the money she took. She never did and I did not pursue it. Two weeks after the divorce was final, I found a job and met a girl. Two years later I started a business that took off and I met a great girl. We got married and now have a daughter.

Eight years later, my ex was arrested by the FBI and charged with financial crimes. I did not stay in touch so I don’t know the details. Before her trial, out of the blue, she called me. She asked if I could testify on her behalf. I agreed. I told the court that I am not aware of the details and I have not seen my ex since the final date of the divorce. I said, the woman I knew and was married to, is not the same woman. The woman I was married to was a kind, caring and compassionate woman and that is all I could say.

That was my revenge. I repaid a bitter vindictive ex wife by telling the court that when we were together she was a different woman and that woman could not have committed these crimes. But it’s been 10 yrs and our lives are different and we have changed.

Note: when I authored this answer has not yet come to terms with my gender identity. On August 27, 2019 I was diagnosed with Gender Dysphoria and began my transition from William to Kára. This is why you will notice gender pronouns not matching up with my appearance in the answer as well as some of the comments.
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Update: it is done. The man who hurt my family is dead as of July 10, 2019. I wanted him to live much longer so that I could continue to exact revenge but apparently that was not to be so. I would like to take responsibility for his death but I cannot…but a part of me wants to believe that the fear I instilled in him during the past few years contributed to it. I hope his death was painful, beyond agonizing and that the powers that be saw fit to cast his soul into oblivion. The only thing that saddens me is that his death has solved absolutely nothing and my family still suffers because of his actions.

On October 20, 1988 I married my high school sweetheart. I went from the Army Reserve to Active Duty less than a month later. Not long after we had our first daughter “Thing One” and a few years later our second. Before the birth of “Thing Two” I had been injured and was medically discharged. When returning to the civilian sector, finding decent employment was difficult and we needed the money badly. My first wife had been Diabetic since age two and after my discharge all of her medical expenses came out of pocket. I ended up working as many as four jobs to keep us all taken care of. It was exhausting because I was also determined to be a good husband and father.

Through years of mismanagement of my spouse’s disease her condition had severely degraded to include adversely effecting her mental health. Because of that she had become physically and emotionally abusive towards the kids. This I could not allow. Outside of her becoming abusive she couldn’t take care of herself any longer much less the kids. In the summer of 1997, after eight years of marriage, things had finally reached a breaking point and I filed for divorce. Having no savings I had to represent myself in court. I ended up fighting for and being granted full custody of Thing One and Thing Two. This was, and is still today, uncommon for a man in Alabama. My ex…well I figured she would be okay once the dust settled. She had her new boyfriend to help her out after all.

Six months after the divorce was finalized things were calming down and my girls were getting used to the daily routine and supervised visitation with their mother on alternating weekends. I was back in college and working and was a full time single father. Life was hectic but manageable. Then it happened.

One day in early October of 1997 I had returned home from my classes at the University of North Alabama and was waiting on Thing One to arrive and get off the school bus. She didn’t. The bus never stopped. I presumed she was still at the school so I decided to drive on over and pick her up. She had, a few times before, missed the bus home. I went to the day care to get my youngest. It was on the way to the school so I figured I’d just get Thing Two a few minutes early. I arrived at the daycare…my baby girl wasn’t there.

Panic started to kick in and when I panic, I get angry. The daycare people were refusing to give me any information as to whom they released my child. I snatched a cordless phone from the hand of the daycare attendee who was standing. I called the school and got ahold of the Principal. He told me I needed to talk with the police. I thought to myself, “Thanks for helping…NOT!” What else was there to do since everyone was avoiding engagement with the pissed-off father? The long and short of it is that I had been accused (wrongly) of molesting my eldest daughter. For a while she had been exhibiting odd behavior and I had taken her to the doctors to see what may have been going on. She was showing some signs of a yeast infection. This was not good considering that I’m very diligent about personal hygiene…I was then and I still am…but I digress. My daughters had been wrongfully abducted by the State of Alabama. That’s why they weren’t where they should have been.

I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest and stomped upon. Now I was the one who had supervised visitation with my children. My father helped secure an attorney for me. My mother provided emotional support. There were multiple hearings and psychological evaluations but by the time everything was said and done I had lost custody of both of them. I had to drop out of college, close the tattoo shop and art studio I had opened and no one would hire me… even the local McDonald’s had me blacklisted.I couldn’t stay in my home because the news of the accusation had destroyed my reputation and I had been receiving death threats. My car had been sabotaged and I begin discovering bullet holes in my house. In the end, I had to move to a different part of the country so I could raise the funds to get the help I needed for this battle. Not long after I did leave down my home was burned to the ground.

All of this because of a wrongful DHR-CPS investigation, a custody dispute and the actions of a narcissistic pervert who was hidden in plain sight and shall be identified shortly in this reply.

I was innocent! I screamed it to all creation and only a few would listen. There is no way I would molest my own children or anyone else. I had been convicted in the court of public opinion before ever seeing the inside of the Franklin County Courthouse. To make matters worse, I later discovered that I was a convenient distraction since the DHR Child Protective Services really screwed the pooch in a case just a few weeks before my nightmare began. They placed a child back with her parents (she was removed because of Domestic Violence) and two weeks later little Andrea Gonzales was dead before she had the chance to live.

Who would I want revenge against for all of this? Not my ex wife. Her diabetes was so out of control she wasn’t thinking straight. Besides before she died she told me who had actually molested our daughter…and that he had done the same to her when she was younger. It was her own father. I couldn’t prove it. She died before anything could be done. Besides, my name was Mudd and no one would listen. I was broke and living in a pay by the week hotel 2000 miles away. Just a few months earlier I had owned my own successful tattoo and art studio, was on the Dean’s List at the University of North Alabama and was a relatively busy but happy single father. Now I was working odd jobs just trying to keep a roof over my head. Still, there were others who were just as guilty as my ex father-in-law for the destruction of my family. Oddly enough, Karma…the Gods or the Universe began taking care of the vengeance for me and I didn’t have to lift a finger.

The caseworker. She investigated the situation and had her mind made up before she met me. She was caught having an affair with the police lieutenant who was investigating the case. She lost her husband. The police lieutenant’s wife found out about the affair and super glued his penis to his abdomin. They divorced. The judge who presided over the custody hearing was caught having a lesbian affair and lost her husband. The prosecuting attorney just recently was let out of prison after serving 18 years or so on a fraud conviction. I did manage to barely get my life rebuilt but it did take 15 years.

This leaves my ex-father-in-law.

A couple of years ago my mother died. I had her cremated and took her ashes back to her home town to scatter them at a park she played in as a child. My daughters had finally remembered what happened all those years earlier and we sat in the park and had a conversation. Their grandfather lived in the same town. At the time he was 93 years old. No sense in sending him to prison even though I would highly suspect it for years that he was the one he shot at my house and sabotaged my car in the hopes that I would die and not uncover the truth. The girls didn’t want to go through a trial; testifying and all that. They decided to confront him face to face.

We went to his home. His wife said he was in the hospital. We went to the hospital. This had to be done for their sense of closure. They confronted him. He denied everything as we knew he would. The girls were satisfied but I wasn’t.

I sent the girls back to the car and told them I’d be down in a few minutes.

The words I spoke to him were for him and him alone. Suffice it to say that for the rest of his miserable life he will be looking over his shoulder every single day. To send the point home, I send the occasion greeting card or postcard. I couldn’t do anything to a sick man in a hospital bed…but now he is out and back home where he will have to live the rest of his life knowing that we know what he did and he will never know when I may decide to pay a final visit. Knowing that is in his mind is a sweeter revenge than I could have ever hoped for. He is living out his life in constant fear of what I may do. The look of fear and guilt in his eyes is permanently etched into my memory.

It is glorious.

Last year my cousin scored 85% marks while I got 80% marks. She always asked my marks on every eid again and again just to tease me. She considered herself very much intelligent. Whenever we talk in our messenger, she did always remind me my marks. She told my marks everyone just to show how intelligent she is, and how dull I am.

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This year I scored 86% marks while she got 80%. Now I wanted to do the same thing she did with me. But I didn't. I don't even pose that something worst happened with her. I knew her marks, so, I didn't even ask her marks. I did that, just not to make her feel guilty and embarrassed. Finally one day she called me and said sorry for the everything she did in the whole last year. That feeling was the “Best Revenge”

My bicycle was stolen.

Then another one.

Then I called some friends and built a bicycle with a GPS tracker hidden in it.

Not only we caught one thief, but our initiative grew into a nationwide organization and we busted hundreds of criminals. I was personally there at dozens of cases, with camera in hand, and I looked straight into their scared eyes as they were handcuffed and taken away. I made it into a video series, and they are now on the internet, faces and names uncovered, in utter shame.

Liberals where whining all the time that it’s “illegal”, but I didn’t give a shit. It’s also illegal to steal my stuff. And people are fed up with the “rights” of the criminals, for the media only shows them with blurred out faces and only their initials are mentioned.

It was so much fun! After a while we also had GPS-bugged laptops, and even a specially modified smartphone which swept pickpockets out from a major club in Budapest. Sometimes we followed the bastards for days until we pinpointed their location, then stood there and applauded while the cops took them away.

Then we went to court and laughed at them, as they received their sentences.

Some of them threatened us. They thought they are the mafia or something. We sometimes paid a visit to them and asked what’s the problem. Fourty or fifty of us. Then they cried, whined and tried to call the police. The cops came and laughed their asses off. We were on good terms with them.

To this day I am very proud of this. Look up “Thiefbusters” on YouTube. Most of our videos have English CCs.

This happened my freshman year of college.

Between fall & spring semester I got a different room assignment with a different roommate. This girl was a senior & really only had 1 or 2 classes to take for graduation. She spent most of her time that she wasn't in class or at her job in our room. She had had the room to herself the previous semester & didn't really want me as a roommate, but she was unwilling to pay for a private room. So she decided to make my life hell by criticizing everything I did or said or didn't do… no matter what, I was an absolute loser who should probably just kill myself & put everyone else out of their misery. She complained when I was there, she complained when I wasn't there, & she complained about everything else. I began to dread coming back to what should have been my home away from home just because I was tired of her constantly bitching at me, about me, & to me. I even told my dad of it when he called me to see how my semester was going. His advice? Just hang in there, she would end up screwing herself up somehow because karma is a bitch too.

One of her favorite things to complain about was her job. She was assistant manager at a local fast food joint. Nothing was right about that place either. She especially loved to complain about the district supervisor over that particular burger place. He was an asshole of the first order & she dreaded him coming into the restaurant because he always managed to find fault with her somehow. She knew that his daughter went to our college but didn't know who she was.

One day my sister came to visit me & said “Hey, dad's in town, let's go surprise him at work.” So off we went to the fast food joint where my dad was district supervisor…

Yes, you can see where this is going lol. My sister & I pulled up to the burger place & got in line to order. At the register was my bitchy roommate. She proceeded to be just as much of a bitch to my sister as she was to me. As she punched in our order she was puzzled to see us break into smiles. “Hi, pop. Sis kidnapped me from college & we came to eat lunch with you.”

My roommate turned white as a ghost. She was horrified to realize that her asshole boss, the one she had bitched about to her poor abused roommate, was pulling money out of his wallet to pay for his children's food. He then sent her out to the lobby to wipe tables & empty trash, while he sat down with me & my sister to visit & catch up with us.

After that my roommate mysteriously stopped being a bitch to me for some reason…

My husband of 14 years had told me he was leaving. But he still lived in the house with me and our kids. Every day after telling me he was leaving, he’d come home from work, not even glance at me, change clothes, sit down at our computer and play computer games until dinner was ready - the dinner I HAD COOKED. He’d walk thru the front door like a king, surveying all he owned. He never spoke to me, never even acted as if I was even there. One day I’d had enough. While he was at work I’d found his little tape recorder (his attorney had told him to record me any time I spoke to him) and boiled it. It actually still looked the same so I just put it back where I’d found it. I then cooked dinner but I separated mine and the kids’ dinner from his. His had extra ingredients - such as laxative. A lot of laxative. As we were all eating he actually told me it tasted really good and got 2nd helpings. I just said thank you.

:D

Some years ago, I was flying to California with my 4 year son. We were seated behind a woman and her two young daughters. I noticed the woman was busily reading a paperback novel while her kids chatted. Our flight landed in St. Louis where we were to wait about a half an hour or so before continuing on west. Passengers could debark if they desired. The woman and her two girls stood and started to leave. One girl asked her mother if they would have the same seats for the rest of the flight. The woman turned, looked at my son, then at me and, with an awful sneer, replied, “I certainly hope not.” I was stunned. My son had slept most of the flight, had been otherwise quiet, and could not even reach her seat to kick it. I simply could not understand the woman’s attitude. Anyway, I noticed she had left her novel in the seat back pouch. I took it out and tore out the last six or so pages of the novel and then replaced it. It was a stupid thing to do and I am not proud of my action, but from time to time I chuckle at the thought of that woman reaching the unexpected end of the novel and wonder if she ever realized that I was the culprit.

In 2001, I met this GEORGOUS Italian guy. He had dark hair, dark eyes, tan and well-built.

We were together only 6 months before he introduced me to drugs. I had never even smoked pot before. I actually threatened to call the cops on him and his friends for smoking weed in my house- AFTER I flushed the joint down the toilet.

Fast-forward to a year. We were heavily into drugs. Name it, I didn't discriminate. He started to become verbally abusive- moreso when he was high. Then came the isolation of family and friends and of course, you're right. He began beating me.

I had never experienced anything like that, and I was also a little confused and embarrassed. I didn't know what to do.

After about a year of abuse of every kind and on every level, I decided to fight back. I wasn't the type to take anyone's shit.

On a Friday night, he explained that he was going out to the clubs but wasn't taking me with him. We had just gotten a place together under his name, (I moved out of the house I was renting and wanted to keep my credit score high) and I was pissed. I knew he cheated on me with other girls, ' but I loved him'. Ugh.

He went out and I started hatching plans. I found an old bottle of Nair (for getting rid of excess hair on your body,) and dumped it into his expensive shampoo. I wasn't done though.

I saw his contact case sitting on the dresser. Hmmm. I wasn't sure of what I was looking for, but I stumbled upon a bottle of Clorox. So, yeah I did it. I replaced the contact solution with bleach. I looked around and couldn't find anything else to do.

So I hacked his voicemail. Took only 20 minutes to do this. (This was in days where if you called someone's phone and got their voicemail, you could opt to change the greeting by dialing their password.) His passcode was 6969. Gee, that was hard.

I left a new greeting. It was similar to this: 'Hi, you've reached Ethan's voicemail. I'm sorry I couldn't get to take your call, but I caught Syphilis while running a train on a hooker. I'm getting it looked at, but my dick is so small, the doctor is unable to find it. When I get done at the clinic, I'll probably go home and beat my girlfriend because I pick fights only with females that I know I can overpower. If you wanted to go on a date, my only request is that you bring money, because I'm not man enough to pay myself. If you still can't reach me, call the local crack dealer. I may be there. Thanks, bye!”

I invited a friend of mine over that I worked at the club with, (don't ask how we both managed to be off on the same night) and she stayed with me until Ethan came home @ 4am. He was FURIOUS! His mother heard the voicemail and so did a bunch of his friends. I did a terrible job containing myself. He wouldn't hit me in front of Savannah though.

The next morning, I awoke to screams coming from the bathroom. As it turns out, big chunks of his precious hair were gone. I played that one and acted innocent but my friend almost threw up trying not to laugh. Her face stayed in the pillow.

Five minutes later, MORE screams. He put one of his contacts in, and was yelling about how much it burned. Maybe I took it to far, but I needed revenge. I wanted to see his karma. His friend came to pick him up and together, they went to a local ER.

I'd had enough of this relationship. While he was at the hospital, my friend and I gathered all of my things as I was going to stay with her. When I grabbed the last of my stuff, I plugged up the bathtub so it would get full, (both bathrooms) and locked the door behind me so it would flood the house. As I said, this was all in his name, so what did I care?

Moral of the story: watch who you mess with- Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!

Thanks for reading!

Right after moving back to Texas after 7 years in Florida, I ran into an old nemesis.

Patsy was a woman who had taken an instant dislike to me and never missed an opportunity to be snarky and say ugly things to and about me.

I was getting my nails done when I looked out the window and saw Patsy heading for the nail salon. My heart sank. I was in no mood for her insults.

She walked in, spotted me and a big smile came on her face.

“ Why, Lillian, I haven't seen you in years,” she said, as she grabbed me and gave me a big hug.

I was totally flabbergasted by this about face change in her attitude towards me.

She sat down by me, still holding my arm like an old lost friend.

During our conversation, she told me she'd recently had a stroke, but was doing well except for some memory problems.

It was all I could do to keep from laughing, as it was obvious that one of her memory problems included remembering that she hated me.

She asked if she could take me to lunch after we got our nails done.

I graciously accepted and let her buy my lunch. It was the least I could do.