Yes, I had a sweet revenge against my husband.

Few weeks back one of the residents of our building brought some sweets for us.

She brought four pieces of sweets. Two mysore paks and two laddos.

My husband is diabetic.

Knowing his craving for sweets, I kept three pieces in a box and hid them in a kitchen shelf, where husband would not find them.

I planned to give those sweets to domestic help the next day.

“Who gave this single piece of sweet?” husband asked seeing the bowl.

“Our neighbor Mrs. AAA” I told.

“I think you have hidden some more sweets somewhere. Nobody gives a single piece” he said in a complaining tone.

“Actually she offered more sweets, but I returned them saying both of us should not eat sweets”

“You cruel woman!” he said.

That night after dinner we ate half mysore pak each.

Next morning when I woke up, I saw the box in which I kept three sweets lying empty in the kitchen sink.

I took the empty box in my hand and went to the room where husband was reading news paper very seriously.

He did not lift his head even after hearing my foot steps, instead buried his head more deeply into the newspaper.

“Why did you eat three sweets in the mid night?” I asked.

“Why did you cheat me saying there is only one sweet ?”

“But you are not supposed to eat so many sweets at one go. You could have taken just one piece”

“It is your fault. Had you given me one full sweet last night, I would not have searched the shelves in the midnight”

“Mark my words, if I don’t avenge you the same within few days, I will change my name”

(“Intha kintha teerchukokapote naa peru marchu kontanu”-in Telugu)

“Ha ha ha! I am waiting for your name change”

Fast forward few days:

There was a puja (spiritual ritual) in the house.

“What are you making for prasadam (offering to God)?” he asked.

“Pulihora (tamarind rice) and burelu (a sweet where sweet stuffing is dipped in batter and deep fried)”.

“Wow, pulihora and burelu, a good combination. But don’t put that stupid sugar substitute in burelu”.

“No I am not going to use sugar substitute” I said

“That sounds good” he said happily.

Both of us sat for the lunch.

I knew that first thing he would taste would be ‘’Boorelu

I did not lift my head from the plate.

After taking the first bite, he screamed. I controlled my laughter.

“What is this? Is it Boorelu?”

“Yes it is!”

“But it is not sweet. It is salty”

“Yes it is savory bure” I said calmly.

“Boorelu will not be salty”

“I invented this savory Boorelu and also going to upload the recipe on youtube for diabetic people”

“This is cheating”

“No this is not cheating, it is ‘taking revenge’. Had you been a good boy and not eaten so many sweets that night, you could have enjoyed real bure now”

So that’s how I took a ‘sweet’ revenge against my husband.

(P.S: That evening when he promised to behave like a good boy, I gave him one sweet Boorelu, I made in the morning.)

Oh yes, indeed.

My first husband would faint at the sight of blood. When our first child was born, he fainted during the delivery and the nurses were forced to attend to him rather than my new born son and me. One time he cut his finger. It was barely the tiniest nick, but he swooned and fully fainted, hitting his head.

The first husband is also a rare blood group, AB Positive. As an O Positive, I had been a blood donor for nearly 40 years.

After our messy and protracted divorce, because he endlessly complained that he could not pay child support from his six figure income, I found the sweetest revenge ever.

The Blood Bank of Australia was pleading for new donors so I registered him c:

Being such a rare blood group, the Blood Bank phoned him every couple of weeks, urgently needing his blood to save a life. He could not say no without looking like a total arse wipe.

Revenge is a dish best served cold. With all the grief, heart ache and mental torture he put me through, this was so sweet an end to it.

Knocking out a guy, along with several of his teeth, I thought was my friend,7 years after he and another supposed friend, slashed my truck tires! He blew his own whistle bragging about it to a real friend of mine.

When three police cars pulled up and asked, do you want to press charges, the more toothless but not so toughie said,“yes, he assaulted me!” The same police lady said,“I wasn't talking to you. I was asking the guy sitting on the sidewalk keeping his cool.” I replied, “no officer, I want him to realize how good a friend he lost.” She replied,“are you sure? I can tell by the way he is acting, he's on something and I bet he's got drugs on his person so we could charge him for that as well!” I declined the offer because I knew he was destined to get there on his own and he didn't need any help from me.

Everybody went home that night and I found out the next day that he tried to have me charged with assault in Robertson County of which we both resided. The officer that took his call, asked him “where the location of the said “assault” occurred?” He said that it occurred in Goodletsville. The officer apparently schooled him with a geography lesson and told him that he would have to make the report to Davidson county sheriffs department or the Goodletsville PD because it was not in Robertson County Sheriff department's jurisdiction.”

I haven't seen nor heard anything about the POS in over twenty years but I have a feeling that if our paths cross again, I will have to school him with another lesson of humility. Maybe his girlfriend and her little big brother won't have to witness the next time I drop him like a wet towel!

Again!

**Please see my latest edit below, for the most recent *Karmic* update 😁**

After working at one place for 5 years, and being denied a promotion for the last 3 (meanwhile watching everybody else get promoted around me, including kids half my age), after being told repeatedly by my manager that I was too slow, too unprofessional, and MANY other things, I finally made the difficult decision to quit. You see, I loved that company, loved my co-workers, and loved my customers. I stayed a lot longer than I should have. And I put up with a LOT more abuse than I should have! I worked my butt off, put my whole heart and soul into this job, only to be met with constant put downs, belittling, I was even (literally) screamed at once. She tried to hold me back in every single way she could. When I put in my two week notice, manager informed me that she didn't need me to work those last two weeks, and took me off the schedule. Then she promptly blocked me from her Facebook, and deleted me from the company's team member app. I worked exactly two more days for that place. I was, in the words of a friend and co-worker, 'undervalued'.

But you know what? I left with my head held high, and a smile on my face. In fact, I left laughing. Why? Because I went out on MY terms. And, because the very first place I applied to hired me as a MANAGER, the very position my spiteful, petty, immature boss of a manager had been denying me for the past 3 years.

My sweet revenge? Hearing from a friend who still worked there, that the store owner, after hearing about my new job, raised his eyebrows and said, “She's a manager now??”

Yep. I am. You all thought I couldn't do it. You thought you hurt me, cutting off my last two weeks. You though you'd break me, by constantly putting me down and telling me I wasn't good enough. But guess what? I am. And I rose out of the ashes stronger and better than ever before. Meanwhile, you're still the same small, mean person, that literally no one who works for you likes.

They tried to tell me I couldn't do it. But I did. They were WRONG. And now they know it. Without me even having to do or say anything! I came out the bigger person. I won, not them!

And that, for me, is the sweetest revenge of all!

It still makes me giggle!

EDIT: WOW, over a thousand upvotes!! I think that's the most I've ever had! Thanks everybody!!

EDIT #2: HOLY COW 3 and a half thousand upvotes?! Thank you all, so much. Your upvotes and kind words really mean a lot. Changing jobs is terrifying, even when you know you have no other choice. There are still some days I'm not sure if I can do it. But all your support really helps lift my spirits and bolster my confidence! Thank you!!!!

EDIT #3 First of all, this answer now has over 7,009 upvotes, and 20 shares. I think that's more than any other answer I've posted! And it really means a hell of a lot. Thank you so much.

Secondly, I thought you'd all appreciate knowing that my ex-manager's terrible behavior finally came around on her. She continued her reign of terror after I left, moving on to the next new target, and then the next, and the next.

Well, she finally picked on the wrong person. She called a girl a “bitch", and that girl went over the owner's head, to corporate. That inspired a whole sleep of workers, past and present alike, to do the same, in hopes that action would finally be taken. I myself sent in a five page email, detailing every moment of torture this…woman…put me through.

I'm happy to report, the manager was forced to step down from her position, and is now nothing more than an hourly employee, like all the people she used to abuse. In fact, were I still working there, at the position I held when I left, I would now outrank her!! I don't know if they reduced her pay accordingly-and, though it IS mean spirited of me, I don't know why she didn't get fired.

Last I heard, she was looking for a new job. Hopefully she has learned some humility (but I doubt it; her kind rarely does) and she'll treat her coworkers with some respect, in the future. Or if she doesn't, hopefully, her new employer won't stand for it!

But either way, she was forced down a peg. Several pegs, in fact!! And that in itself is very satisfying to me. Karma came around on her, and her own actions came back to bite her on the ass!!

Oh, how I laughed!!

I got in a fight with two guys in school. My cousin was standing there. He didn't help me.

He came home and told my mom about the fight. My mother 'caressed my cheeks' in return.

He said "I don't know why he even go to school if he has to get into fights".

I was kept under a house arrest for a few days.

A week later when I was returning from school, I saw two guys beating someone.

I walked towards the 'crime scene'.

I saw my cousin there. One of the guys was holding his hands behind his back and the other was slapping him continuously.

Seeing me he took a sigh of relief.

He looked towards me and said "Hit this bastard Rahul".

I calmly replied "Sorry Bro. I come to school to study, not to fight".

I walked away folding my hands.

Image : Google.

I was around 17, living on my own. when I got a job as a waitress at a dumpy restaurant. The manager was a horrible man who would scream at and harrass his staff. One day, I watched while he screamed at this poor young waitress, reducing her to tears. I stood there calmly taking my break in the kitchen, eating a banana, looking at him and thinking what a jerk he was. When he was done with her, he turned to me and made a filthy comment about young girls who liked bananas. To which I replied, “I quit. This is my notice.” He went really crazy then and told me to get out immediately. I said I would leave as soon as he paid me for the time I had worked that I hadn't been paid for yet - two weeks. He said he wasn't paying me a penny and to get out. So I got out — I sat on the front step in my uniform. Whenever a customer came up to the door I related what a terrible person he was and the things he said to me, how he treated the staff. After a little while, he came out and screamed he was calling the police if I didn't leave. I said go ahead, I'll tell them what you said to me and how you treat the young girls here. He went back in, came out 15 minutes later with a check. I said I want cash. He went back inside and came back, very subdued and polite. and paid me cash. Maybe not the greatest revenge, but I got what was due me. For a young girl on her own, having to deal with crappy jobs and crappy employers, it felt real good.

After 13 years together (7 of which we were married for) and two little girls, I discovered my husband was having an affair. I asked him to leave and then didn’t hear from him for 3 weeks. No apology. No nothing. To this day he hasn’t ever shown remorse. While I was sorting out the family finances I discovered he had run up debts of £38,000 by purchasing hundreds of ‘‘collectible” toys, trainers etc. The contents of my loft had a resale value of £27,000 and he didn’t have access to it. His parents paid off this debt for him. Fast forward 3 years to final closure and Decree Absolute and I returned his belonging and secured a deal to ensure I was able to bring up my girls without the threat of losing our house.

It was a long and exhausting process and his addictive personality meant he ran up a further £18,000 debt buying ‘stuff’ and was ‘unable’ to give me any cash payout which would have enabled me to give the girls that little bit extra. The extent of his spending over the years had resulted in a difficult time where we struggled to have enough money to buy the basics. He stopped paying into his pension, I had to borrow money from my parents to put fuel in my car to get to work. I wasn’t allowed the heating on or any say in the food shopping. I was subjected to psychological bullying for many years. The extent of which I have only understood retrospectively. I couldn’t understand why we were so badly off despite having good incomes.

When it all came to light I was relieved to have got out of the relationship before we had to file for bankruptcy which I firmly believe would have been around the corner had things not come to a head.

Anyway, my revenge story came when it was time to give his stuff back. He’d managed to rent a small 2-bedroom house since our separation and, as per the court agreement, I delivered his things to his place of residence. I can safely say they FILLED his house, tall stacks in every room with little floor space to manoeuvre. I’m sure he loves all his things (tat) that incurred the masses of debt that affected our marriage. I was particularly pleased to hear that his mother’s face was a picture when she realised the extent of it all. I can only imagine that his new girlfriend was less than impressed to see the new living arrangements too! She may well wonder what she’s got herself involved with. I hope she catches on soon and doesn’t end up in the same state I did!

Originally answered: “What is the sweetest revenge you’ve ever taken?”

There is no violence in this answer, but the revenge was sweet, nonetheless.

Years ago in the Boston area, there was a popular store called Filene's Basement. It was famous for its extensive racks and large, square bins of clothes and accessories at extremely low prices, as well as its crowds. If you had enough time and patience, you could often get a great deal. The original store, at Downtown Crossing in the city of Boston, closed a number of years after the following story took place.

A college friend of mine named Jenny, a female friend of hers whom I only met that day, and I had all gone to the Boston Filene's Basement to look around. Jenny was in search of a wedding present for still another friend of hers. I thought I would help if I could.

We found ourselves at one of the waist-level open wooden bins, this one piled high with scarves of a huge variety of colors and designs. Nothing we found seemed to suit. Using a technique I had perfected to access newer and cleaner items at the very bottom of the pile, I grabbed a number of new, folded scarves and pulled them out to have a look to see if there was a treasure in there. Lo and behold, the largest and most gorgeous scarf I had ever seen was in the group. I was struck speechless by its exquisite dark blue background with a rainbow of embroidered flowers and gold threads, as well as its fine quality. It felt like silk. It was still folded neatly, as brand new items often are, when they haven't been opened, used or worn. Unlike many scarves in the enormous and picked-over pile, this one had clearly been left untouched.

I immediately showed it to Jenny because I thought it would be a perfect fit for her friend. She loved it and went to look for the price tag. It was so gorgeous, we were concerned that it would be too expensive, even though all the scarves in the bin were, according to the sign, only $20 each. We couldn't believe that the scarf I had discovered was that cheap, hence the attempt to locate a price tag on the scarf.

There was no price tag. Uh oh.

This could mean that it had never had one, or it had fallen off in the riotous jostling and tossing around of the scarf pile prior to our visit. Still unfortunate. I offered to go find a staff member who could check for us.

That was when things got weird.

I found a female clerk nearby and asked if she could check for a price and give the item a tag, so we could possibly buy it.

This clerk took the scarf, examined it for less than 5 seconds and declared, “No, it has no tag because it's been lost by a customer, so I am going to take it and put it in the lost-and-found.” She proceeded to quickly walk away with it.

WTF???

As I mentioned earlier, it was clearly brand new and never used; it hadn't even been unfolded ONCE before I found it buried deep at the bottom of the bin.

My only thought was, “Oh my God! This b**** wants it for herself!” You must understand, the fabric of the scarf was truly a work of art. I had never seen anything like it before, and haven't since. However, I realized that this clerk was going to steal it under the guise of finding its “rightful owner”. And I got mad. Jenny was disappointed, but she was willing to let it go. I, on the other hand, was not. I asked Jenny to wait for me, and that I would just be a second…

I proceeded to follow the clerk from a safe distance to the complete opposite side of the store. I saw her tuck the scarf into a small plastic bin on a shelf behind the cash register and leave the area, toward some offices behind the cashiers’ counter.

Furious now, I hatched my plan.

You see, if the scarf had been “lost" by “a customer" then why not…

…be that customer?

I waited in the long checkout line, heart rate increasing (would the clerk re-emerge and see me?), until I reached a cashier and proceeded to fabricate a short story about having lost my scarf earlier that day, describing it in sufficient detail so that when the unknowing cashier went to check the lost-and-found bin, oh my goodness! There it is! Oh, thank you SO much! And away I went, scarf safely in hand. I was shaking.

I met up with Jenny and her friend outside the store and gave it to her, along with the story of how I got it back. She was shocked, but happy. And yes, it was free.

I often wonder how the original clerk reacted when she attempted to take the scarf home for herself and found it gone…

Edit 11/2/19: Over 5K upvotes??? Unreal! Thank you all.

A small thing, but very satisfying.British trains can be very crowded at peak time. It Is wise to book a seat. I travel into and out of London regularly for work, at least once a week. So I book a seat on the intended return train, otherwise I risk standing.One evening, I had been out with my team and had several pints under my belt before travelling - I got on my train and noted that there was a middle-aged gent in my seat; this is not unusual and not usually a problem. I didn't think much of it and being rather . . . mellow - I sat myself in another reserved seat a few rows http://away.As the train got progressively more crowded, a lady approached me with her ticket; I was in her seat - no problem. I stood up and went to walk away - still feeling mellow, I didn't feel like disturbing the chap in my seat and began to move down the train - intending to find a seat in a different carriage. As I walked away, a whiney voice pursued me down the aisle - “Some people ought to learn the meaning of the word ‘reserved’ !” - clearly aimed at me.Several pints in, I can turn from mellow to snappy quite quickly. I acknowledge this as a flaw. I turned around, ready to engage in a spirited dialogue with whomever the piss-taking twat was who felt the need to have a poke. The blood was up. It was then that I noticed that the voice belonged to the gent occupying what I had previously identified as my reserved seat. . .I spend a few seconds checking my facts - I was in the right carriage, that was my seat, I had the reservation slips and the date was right. Karma and right were on my side. Strategy change, Game on.I wandered down the aisle towards the oblivious provocateur, noting as I approached that he was possessed of a few extra pounds, and appeared to be seated next to his similarly traditionally-built wife. I pulled up next to the gent and their heads gimballed towards me in unison.“You know I do agree with you in respect of seat etiquette” I opened. Before he could reply I pulled my tickets from my pocket and continued “It’s interesting that you felt the need to stick your oar in - because I was walking away to find another seat. I was going to let it lie”. His eyes narrowed as I waved my tickets at him. “You see I do have a seat reservation for this carriage and specifically, it is the seat you are currently sitting in. I’d like my seat please”. The eyes widened in panicky disbelief. After frantically checking my tickets to verify the claim, the gent vacated the seat and headed off, flushed an attractive shade of puce.I plonked myself down next to his wife, who was also an unusually livid colour and also glaring at me in disbelief/rage. I grinned, settled in and celebrated byDropping the armrest between us, forcing her to vacate that portion of my seat she was occupyingPopping the tab on one of the pair of tins I bought to sustain me on my journey.“Well you needn't think I am sitting next to you for the next two hours! ” she hurled at me before storming off - A bit of a Pyrrhic victory really since :-Her eventual replacement on the hotly contested seat was a friend of mine.When I ventured to the loo after an hour or so, I found them both stood silently in the space between carriages. I greeted them both cheerfully, but they were not really very forthcoming.

I was married to a woman who cheated on me not once, but twice in the space of a month. She had a degree in architecture and at the time made more money. I came home one day and she was gone along with all her clothes, our car, and all the money in the banks - but left both kids.

I never got any child support or alimony and struggled for a while. She went on to work for the GOP in fundraising and was doing well (according to her family).

I did finally get over it and got on with my life and a couple years ago she tried to contact my eldest son on Facebook (he was not amused) and he found out that she ended up as a prison guard in Texas and living in a mobile home. My son came over with my new grand child for a visit to my estate (6700 sq. ft. home, 5 bed, 4.5 baths on 3.65 acres overlooking a lake) and told me this had happened. Funny how things get reversed. She lived in a trailer while I own 6 houses (rentals), my own home, a nice Mercedes cabriolet, and a Cadillac. Makes me smile every time I think of it.

I'm studying.

Sister marches closer and starts eating the chocolate. Yep, the one preserved since Mesopotamian civilisation !!!

She- Dekh dekh. Hehe. ( Look)

Me- It’s ok !

*Lets her finish with her teasing. Closes the book. Puts hands in pockets and voila! Two pulse candies detected.*

Me- Dekh dekh. Ha ha ha ( Look)

Mission accomplished.

She- Wait !!! Mummaaaaaa…

Mom- What?

She- Bro beat me.

Quickly surrenders. Gives her one candy.

Half revenge, maybe? (-_-)

About 30 years ago, I lived in an apartment complex where the owner paid the heat, hot water and cooking gas. The owner was one of the cheapest people I knew and she refused to fix anything or hire a decent Super. Btw, she had paid off the complex 15 years prior so she was making good $$$ off the complex

The boiler breaks and she has an old, used one, that she found in the newspapers, installed during the summer. By state law she was required to provide heat by November 15th. By the 23rd, it is brutal cold and we still didn't have heat. I called her up to find out what is going on. Her response was that she was out of $$$ and for me to buy some electric heaters. Btw, that meant my expenses would up, since tenants paid for their electricity.

I go to town hall, met with the appropriate officials, let them know what is going and file a complaint. I also let them know that there was a large elderly group of tenants in the complex.

The official calls her, tells her that she is in violation and that she needs to get the heat on ASAP. She tells him off and refuses saying that she knows people. (She didn't) He tells her that he will fine her $1000/day for each unit or $48,000 a day starting with that day. She tells him that he can't do that and called him some choice names. What she didn't realize that the town's lawyer heard the entire phone call.

The next day she was delivered a notarized invoice for $48,000 along with a legal document stating that this daily fine will continue until the heat goes on. Now she is in a panic since she now owes the town $48,000.

But the best part of the revenge is that this happened on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Do now she had to scramble to find someone who could get the system working which she eventually did. But he charged her double claiming that it was interfering with him going away for the holiday.

One last thing, the town official told her if she tried to harass me for reporting her, the town would go after her and would pay my legal bills if I had to sue her

I guess this was more karma than revenge, but I’ll tell you anyway!

So, I remember around 7 or 6 years ago, when I was 8 years old, there used to be this much older girl who sat behind me on the school bus 🚌. Along with her sisters and friends, she would make fun of my big lips, as well as bully other younger children due to being skinny and whatnot. Anyways, because of her constant remarks and comments, I’d always despise the way my lips were shaped and how they pouted, and couldn’t wait until the day I could somehow lessen them in size. Thankfully, I soon came to my senses and realised… I love my lips! So, I believed I was ‘fish mouth’ no more, and all was good.

However, a few years later, after we’d all moved schools and countries and everything (our parent’s were expats), I guess she found me on Instagram through mutual friends from our old school, and requested to follow me. I did the same. And guess what I saw on her story a few weeks later? A video of her getting lip injections to enlarge her lips!!

Goes to show… bullying is for the weak and insecure. But anyways, I hope she’s doing better.

Have a great day!!

This is actually pretty cool.

So I worked with this person. She stole 80$. I was a server. There was nothing I could do and I wasn't getting my money back and I knew it.

Months later I had found a new job. I get a call from my old place of employment. “Yes I need a cab to so and so”. I recognized the voice. I was the cab driver.

I knew it was her.

I go anyway. When I arrive there she is smiling. I said 80$ to get in this cab babe. And I just looked at her and smiled back.

”You can't do that. I know the company. I'm calling you in. I know the owner”. I laugh and I'm like yeah I know him too. He's the guy that hired me. But if you want in this particular cab, there's an 80$ deposit.

Ha I'm like go right ahead but if you don't wanna walk home in the rain there's an 80$ up front fee.

Now this whole time I have the window cracked. And literally nothing else is unlocked.

She was so mad.

I smiled ear to ear and says hey remember fucking me out of 80 dollars? She said fuck you you're a cabbie now and you have a duty to customer service. I said well just slip a hundo through the window.

She was absolutely livid. You can't do this. This is an assault. I NEED A RIDE HOME…. NOW. I was like yep I need my money back honey!

But what could she do? I drove away smiling. Karma, sometimes, is a mother!

A supervisor spot had opened up on the night shift, and I was a shoo-in for the job. But a co-worker who had been sleeping with the boss got the nod, even though she’d only been at the plant months while I had years.

Still, I sucked it up and did my job. Half the time I had to instruct her in hers.

Any idea or suggestion of improvement she gave to upper management was a stolen idea. She was trying to seal her space in management heaven.

I found a way to streamline the process that increased output and cut down on overtime without sacrificing quality. Once again, she claimed the idea was her own.

She was showing the big dogs the process, when one of the managers asked a question about how we got around a glitch in the machine’s capabilities. She had no idea, so she said, “I’ll let Dennis explain it. He can explain it better than I can.”

I was nearby setting the machine up and overheard. So I said, “Sorry, guys. I’m on a timeline. This truck goes out in half an hour. I’m sure her explanation will be fine,” and I left to get my job done.

I watched from afar as she struggled to come up with an explanation. It became abundantly clear she had no idea what she was talking about, and that someone else HAD to have come up with the idea.

A couple of managers came up to me later and asked if I knew how to get around the glitch, which I explained in great detail. They nodded, looked at each other, and left.

Fast forward a week. Night shift needed a new supervisor again, as the one who had just got the job got demoted, got angry, and quit. And for some strange reason, I got an office and a raise in pay.

The man who owned the house next door rented it out to four non related people who each had their own bedroom but shared a bath. One day my four year old son was riding a big wheels down our driveway and he was stung by a wasp. I noticed that there was a very large wasp nest on the porch in front of his house by my driveway and mentioned it to him the next time he was there picking up the rent. When I told him the story he said not my problem keep your kid in the house and you won’t have a problem. Yes I was pissed but I was more pissed when I mentioned it to one of his renters an elderly lady of about 75 she said that he hadn’t put oil in the tank in weeks and that her room was cold every night. She said the paint was peeling in her room and that the sink they all used kept backing up. She also asked me if I noticed that the 80 year old gentleman who lived in one of the other rooms was gone. I had noticed that I had not seen him for a few weeks. He was always nice and would sit on the porch and sometimes come over when my son and I were out just to talk. Well apparently he had passed away and this bastard made an agreement with the man’s nephew who I had never met who was supposed to be talking care of him to not let anyone know he died. The plan was for the nephew to cash his social security checks as if the poor man was still alive and they would split the money. So long as they kept the address going and kept signing the mans name to the check they were in the money. What bastards.

First I called the town and told them that the man next door was renting to elderly people and leaving them without heat and that the living conditions he left them in were deplorable. Then I contacted the Social Security office and told them although I didn’t know the mans last name or when he died but it had been at least two months back . I did know his address and his first name. I told them about the scam the nephew and the owner of the house were pulling. They said they would look into it.

Now I wish I could tell you that both those gentlemen got what they deserve. What I can tell you is that two weeks later a man around his 30’s was moving stuff out of the house. I went over and asked who he was as I knew he didn’t live there. He said oh I’m Georges nephew my uncle passed and I’m getting his stuff. So I do know the scam was over anyway. A month after that the house was on the market and Miss Susan the elderly lady from upstairs said when she called her son and told him about what was going on at the house he said she could come live with him. Apparently she had never mentioned to him about the heat and the paint because she didn’t want him to worry. She was really excited about moving in with her son and I was excited she was going to be taken care of.

I don’t regret turning them in at all. If what comes around goes around there is a nice place in hell for both of them. Preying on the elderly is just disgusting.

I caught my wife cheating on me, we had been married for 14 years, had a nice home, kids, cars, a big bank account. Overall a very nice life. When I confronted her, she couldn’t even deny it, I had rock solid proof. I filed for divorce, she didn’t want to talk about it, she only wanted half of our assets and to leave, the guy she was seeing was very well off. She thought she would be “taken care of” I filed the divorce and wrote the terms myself. She was really getting screwed now. She yelled it wasn’t fair, its not equal, extremely one sided. I kept the house, the RV, most of our savings and no alimony. She said she would never accept it and to get ready for a court fight. She then loudly informed me that we were in a “no fault” state and that the evidence I had collected was not admissible in court. I replied that I wasn’t going to show the courts the evidence, I was going to show the kids. She turned white, got up and walked away. About 3–4 hours later she came back and ask me, “so I accept that, you won’t show the kids?” I promised I wouldn’t if she just packed her stuff and left. Three weeks later she moved out, I later found out that her boyfriend sent her packing too. About 8–9 months later I met a gorgeous blond, about 10 years younger that my wife, we hit it off very well. Her and I went out shopping one day and as we were leaving the store we walked right into my ex-wife, whose jaw dropped when see saw my new girlfriend, who was younger, taller, prettier. I think I had a sh!t eating grin on my face for days.

I’m not a vengeful person. Never have been. If I feel someone has wronged me, I just remove myself from their life.

I find that if by communicating my displeasure with someone regarding whatever negative action they are committing against me doesn’t detour them, then ignoring them, or me just leaving their presence is enough to get my point across… that they do not deserve the positivity and love that I bring to the relationship, and if they want to continue being negative, then I will continue to not interact. Period.

Now, if someone just blatantly disrespects me, I do not need to retaliate. I just walk away. Karma will handle that for me. And I do not need to be a witness of Karma in action for me to feel justified in my knowledge that Karma is, indeed, a bitch!

He was the supervisor and was a real DICK. One morning I showed up early and I banged on the door, then ran. I kept this up for over 40 maybe 40 minutes. I got picked up by a co-w0rker and I told him what I was doing. We went to the workplace and knocked on the door. The supervisor came up saw it was us and let us in. He was scared to death. “Did you see anybody out there?” We both answered no. The co-worker told him he picked me up. (Not a lie) We were waiting to get started and I continued doing what I had started. I ran to the back and the last time I did it I jumped over a bale of crushed boxes, slipped fell on my butt. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t speak. The supervisor stepped back there and saw me laughing. then he knew. The other bosses showed up and they were told what I’d done. They’d look at me and click their tongue. I had that guy so scared he about pissed himself.

I was battling a pretty tenacious flu and had pulled my aching, feverish, foggy self from bed to go to the doctor to get meds. It was an exceptionally awful weather day: freezing, harsh, battling rain that beat down, pelting from all sides. Traffic was a mess, cabs were hard to get, but I did get one and set off to the doctor.

On the way there my sister called to check in on how I was doing and to make sure I got to the doctor’s okay because I was really out of it. So I’m in the cab, on the phone and we arrive at my destination. Still pouring hail bullets outside. I see outside everywhere people are rushing in & out of the subway or trying to get cabs. Buses and cars are jammed everywhere because it’s New York and everybody becomes a moron in the rain and it’s an unholy, predictable mess.

Outside my cab I see a woman with a yellow umbrella motioning to my driver — she sees we are about to close out the ride and she wants my cab. Fair enough, normal NYC behaviour so far. I’m still on the phone with my sister and tally out the fare on the screen and put my card in the swipey thingy. I’m vaguely aware there’s close-by talking right outside my door. It’s the woman with the yellow umbrella, talking either to my driver to make sure he’s still working or to warn off others that THIS IS HER CAB.

It’s like that: you do sometimes have to stake your claim or get usurped by a wilier native cab whisperer. I know, I’m a very good cab whisperer. It’s a unique NYC skill that’s earned through hard lessons. There’s a code too, a loose set of protocols for what’s cool and what’s Just. Not. Done. No matter what.

Okay, so back to the fare … the machine is running Windows 98 or something because it hangs and spins and nothing happens to finalize payment. The cabbie, who has been motioning and nodding yes yes yes you next yes! to Yellow Umbrella Lady, says for me to remove my card, he’ll reset the machine.

Okay. So we do that.

We wait for it to reset and I try again. This time it’s taking. Still on the phone with my sister. I become aware that Yellow Umbrella Lady is right at my passenger door, ready to swoop in. Okay. I get that, she sees I’m getting out in a second. She is still screaming, though. Why is she screaming? What is this woman saying?

She is screaming at me. She is yelling for me to Get. Out. Already.

Lady.

My Good Yellow Umbrella Lady.

Dear, harried Yellow Umbrella Lady.

I am trying. I cannot leave until I pay. I am doing that. We are all of us waiting on the approval of a machine. It is a fickle machine. I did not make this world. I did not make this rain. It is all shitty and while I grok your frustration I am impotent to alter the situation more than I already can and have.

I mean.

I maybe should step outside in the rain to complete my payment and enter my bank PIN in her full view while leaning into and over her, sat in the cab?

Yeah no, obvs. That’s crackhead logic. This Upper East Side sixtyish doyenne with a yellow umbrella doesn’t expect that. We both know that’s a big never gonna happen ever in the history of New York kind.

But she does think I’m dawdling. She is looming over my window, peering in. I finalize payment, gather my bag and reach for the door handle, which is the cue she’s been waiting for.

She grabs the outside handle and flings the door open, HARD. My hand was still attached so now I’m jerked out the door sideways a bit unexpectedly sticking my flu-ridden head right into the rain. Wut.

Yellow Umbrella lets go with a torrent of snarky, screaming chastisement, right there in this hellstorm, right in the street, screaming over all the din and just full donkey braying loud: “Talk on the phone more, why don’t you?! Get off the phone! Get out of the cab! Get ooouuuut!”

→ Here is where you may imagine the :blinkingman: gif ←

I sit upright in the seat and pull back, astonished.

“Are … you … are you … talking to me?!”

It’s amazing what adrenaline can do. I was so sick. Like, drooped out, wet rag doll, blurry sick. Sick enough to force myself out in weather I’d not go out in at all if healthy, but did because I feared another day without seeing a doctor.

But now? I was awake. I think I bark-blurted “Okay, NEW destination!” to my driver straight outta my lizard brain. Like, I didn’t make a decision so much as follow a mandate from my limbic system. The door to the cab was still open. Yellow Umbrella Lady still had her hand on the door.

“NEW destination! Hey, dude, cabbie guy! I’ve changed my mind. I’m going somewhere else. This is still my cab. And I’m going somewhere else now.”

Bewildered cabbie, eyeing Yellow Umbrella Lady nervously: “What?! Where? What is the address?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck, the address is away, NOW, I’ll decide on the way. Fuck it, go around the block. I’m not getting out of this cab until this bitch is gone. She wants to be a bitch? I can be a bitch. I’m the queen damned bitch. Go! I will pay. Start the meter.”

My cabbie grins and turns the meter back on.

Yellow Umbrella Lady is *shooketh*.

She. Is. Livid.

Her mouth and face contorted into a yell and her mouth was wide open with wild eyes flashing but

…nothing came out.

Like she was sooooo mad she couldn’t even make a sound because her scream was too big to pass that orifice, like a constipation of howling rage that blocked egress. She looked like the Edvard Munch painting.

Glorious.

Exactly what I wanted. Mission accomplished.

I grabbed the door back and slammed it shut with a big grin yelling “have a nice daaaaaaaaaay!” while flipping her the bird, of course, because that is the rules here and it must be done as a matter of protocol.

We circled the block and my Good Lady Yellow Umbrella apparently did not possess the Taxi Fu I do because I waved to her wet ass when we circled around. And flipped another bird.

She was still there, in the rain, gesticulating wildly at cabs any New Yorker could’ve told her were out of service. And I was Queen Elizabitch, smiling, slowly rotating my middle finger in the approved royal method - a dignified slow oscillating half turn. It was a very elegant bird flip, I promise.

The cabbie & I enjoyed a great chat where he said she was yelling at him as he reset the meter and he was happy he didn’t have to pick her up. He was tickled pink that I was willing to circle this bitch like a yellow shark out of sheer petty until I either died of flu in the back of his cab or she left. He was giggling like a kid. Both of us were giggling madly, my fever making this all a great surreal dream. We were strangers suddenly in on a classic NYC caper together, released from the urgency of the weather and now just idling time away in dry, warm comfort and good conversation. Flipping elegant birds to our frothing public. I live for days like this. This was worth the flu.

Our Good Lady of the Yellow Umbrella finally sought her fortunes elsewhere and 20 minutes later I got to my doctor, my cabbie got a 100% cash tip on the new fare and all was well with the world.

Seriously, if you’re gonna play taxi games in NYC, better bring your A game.

I work as a cashier at McDonald’s. I usually work the back drive-thru window, and occasionally work the front counter. This means that I usually am both taking orders and people’s cash and cards to pay for their meal. You know what else this means? I am the first face angry people see when they come to complain. It doesn’t matter that I have absolutely no control over 90% of the stuff they’re yelling at me about, I’m there, so I’m the one that gets the full force of their anger.

You went through the drive-thru and my overworked coworkers forgot to put the apple slices in your little kids happy meal? I’m the person at the first window you sarcastically vent at about how you were forced to park and look through every single one of your bags for a plastic bag of five peeled apple slices, which your kid apparently needs to survive.

Your order got swapped for someone else’s because there are thirty people in line and five people simultaneously taking orders? I’m the one you roll your eyes and sigh at as I sort out which one is yours.

Someone’s headset is dying and it’s hard to hear them? Guess what? I’m the one that gets an earful.

You’re pissed because you have to present a coupon before any charges can be taken off? That’s right, I’m the one apologizing for your inconvenience. Someone misheard you and gave you a sprite instead of a fry? I deal with your righteous wrath. You’re unhappy about the prices? I listen to you rant and apologize for something I have absolutely no control over.

Some people are just in a hurry and a bit snippy. I don’t mind those people, I just try to serve them as quickly as possible, smile, and get them on their way. I can understand being in a rush or being annoyed because your order was mixed up. Some people get really nasty, and I mean really nasty.

One older man came through the drive-thru and I was actually the one who took his order. He asked for two happy meals but it took me twenty minutes to walk him through all the different options for the happy meals (sides, drinks, sauces) because he couldn’t seem to understand that I needed him to pick drinks and sides and I kept having to explain the same thing over and over. He was very hard to understand and ended up abruptly driving on without ever really signifying whether or not he was done ordering or not. I figured maybe he was hard of hearing or my headset was dying or something and he hadn’t been able to hear me and I’d sort it out when he got up to my window.

He got up to my window, an overweight old man with two young kids in the back. Right away I knew there was going to be problems. His face just had that “I have unresolved issues and you look like a great person to take them out on” kind of look. I put on my widest smile, opened the window and asked cheerfully, “Hi! Did you have the order with two 4-Mcnugget happy meals?” He shoved money at me and said angrily

“I didn’t want no cheeseburgers and I wanted biscuits and gravy!”

I glanced at my screen. It read ‘2, 4-Mcnugget happy meals’. Maybe he was under the impression that all happy meals came with cheeseburgers. Stranger things had happened. I took the proffered money and said, “Sir I’m sorry about any confusion, the Mcnugget happy meals already don’t come with any cheeseburgers. I’ll ring up the biscuits and gravy right away, there must have been some slip-up when you were ordering.”

His expression of anger deepened. “I said I didn’t want no cheeseburgers but they were on the screen and I told the girl I didn’t want no cheeseburgers!” (Lies, I was the girl, he’d said nothing about cheeseburgers)

At least I understood what was going on now. Sometimes the two screens from the two different drive-thru’s got swapped and they showed a different order from the one being rung up. My smile still firmly plastered in place, I said, “I’m so sorry about that, the two screens from the two different drive-thru’s get mixed up sometimes. It must have been someone else’s order. Don’t worry though, I’ve got your order right here. I have two 4-Mcnugget happy meals and an order of biscuits and gravy, no cheeseburgers. Is this the correct order?”

Nothing I said seemed to have gotten through to him. “I don’t want no cheeseburgers and I told her but she still gave me cheeseburgers!”

My smile started to slip slightly. “Sir, I am so sorry about the confusion, I have two 4-Mcnugget meals and an order of biscuits and gravy and that is all. I do not have any cheeseburgers included with your meal. The total price comes up to $11.30” I was hoping to get him to pay so I could move the line along, there were a lot of people behind him and people impatiently waiting to give their orders.

This seemed to spark him off. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your manager! You need to talk to your people and make sure this doesn’t happen! It was 8.40 on the screen and now it’s 11. You don’t even need to be doing this job if you can’t do it right. She told me I had cheeseburgers and it was 8.40 and now you’re telling me it’s 11. You don’t need to do that, you can’t go around telling people it’s different prices. You people are completely useless at this, you can’t even do your job right!”

This had now degenerated past the point of no return, there was no way he was going to be happy now, but I still hoped to smooth things over. I had been on my feet in a 3′ by 3′ space for about seven hours and there was at least one person attempting to yell his order through a screen at no one, so I wasn’t at my best, but I still tried. I foolishly tried to defend myself. Not a good plan. “Sir, I am really sorry about all this, when there’s this many people ordering a few mistakes are unavoidable-”

He cut me off, “I said don’t apologize to me!”

I swallowed and plastered my best and most sincere smile on my face. “Sir, I have two 4-Mcnugget happy meals and an order of biscuits and gravy, no cheeseburgers. The total comes up to $11.30 and you gave me $8.40, would you mind-”

He cut me off again. “Just give me my money back!”

“Sir, you’re saying you would no longer like your order?”

“No just give me my money back!” he snatched the cash from my hand and sped off. As he drove away I distinctly heard the beginnings of a wailing cry from a small child who had been promised a happy meal as a treat from their grandfather. I had to take a moment, as people waited impatiently outside the window, hands full of money outstretched, to grip the table edge of my work-space and breathe forcefully in and out for a few minutes, reminding myself that I needed to keep working, that it was my job, that I was being paid to do this and I needed the money for college. Then I spread a smile I hoped didn’t look too artificial across my face and went back to work.

So what was my revenge? I did absolutely nothing to that person, and I never will. Given the opportunity I wouldn’t do anything to them. It’s not because of some Buddhist crap, It’s because I know that life will punish that person, and the others like him, more than I would ever want to. No one likes a rude and unpleasant person. His clothes were shabby, his car far from new, his face unshaven and dirty. He was the dregs of society, he didn’t even have wealth or good looks going for him. No one wants to associate with someone who is unpleasant, rude, ill-mannered, unhygienic, unintelligent, and poor.

That person has probably gone his whole life blaming all his problems on other people. He probably has at least one ex-wife he likes to bitch about to his douchebag buddies. He may have dude-bro buddies he hangs out with, but he will never really know love, or friendship. He will never know what it is to learn and grow, and experience the marvels and wonders of this world. He will never rise above the dregs of society. He gives nothing to it. He will live out his whole life with very little money and almost no friends. A sad, lonely, pathetic existence that he doesn’t even have the capacity to see for what it is.

Whenever someone is abusive or unreasonable with me, I think about what the rest of their life must be like. Very often it takes away any need for revenge. I don’t need to hurt them, they hurt themselves. Someone who is going to scream at a cashier at McDonald’s because their order had a minor flaw is not someone who has a great life.

But I will. I will have a great life. I will go on, and I will become successful, I’ll see the world. I’ll experience things the people that think I am trash because I work at McDonald’s will never experience.

That is my revenge.

When I was in highschool, I had a girlfriend tell me that I was immature. I pointed out that I worked 5 days a week, as well as getting good grades. That I was never late for work, and always did my homework. That I was never in trouble with the police.

She asked what that had to do with maturity? I tried to explain, but she wasn't believing anything I was saying.

Fast forward 25 years, and I run into her family at a wedding, we are sitting at the same table during the reception. She is lecturing her 17 year old son about sneaking alcohol, they get into an argument, and she says, why can't you grow up? He bragged about being the most mature kid in his class. She said, you can't hold a part time job, you are just barely passing your classes, and the police brought you home because you were drinking, and you were given a warning about being suspended from school.

He asked what that had to do with maturity? I spit out my drink, and started laughing. The mom looked at me, and asked what was so funny. Obviously not remembering our conversation from 25 years ago, but I had never forgotten it. I finally felt validated after 25 years.

the most sweet revenge for me is to just to walk away like a smart person ….. a dangerous man is a man who dont need anyone else because he is too busy loving and living his own life so not a single second to waste on others life….. and when you get betrayed or annoyed then the only thing you should do is cut yourself from the things where you feel unwanted …. and when you are busy in your own life and when you are busy loving yourself then you are busy improving yourself and you are increasing and patching your flow of life and universe’s flow …… and other people’s action means nothing without your reaction …. it will be sweetest revege and also you come under smart pople …. and by doing this you are improving and then it will be more sure that you will achieve something great ….. also you are enjoying this beautifull gift of world and life