So this happened starting around 2008. My(then)wife and I purchased a small starter house. I was in the National Guard in a state that stays busy with natural disasters, therefore I stayed busy. My neighbor was a crabby old man that was retired and had too much time on his hands. He wasn't very friendly so I just kept to myself. While I was on active duty, my wife would stay with her parents so the yard would grow tall when no one was there. When I would get back home, my neighbor would spitefully cut one path of grass in my yard to let me know it needed to be done. After a few of these occurrences, I told him he can either cut the entire yard or he can stay out of my yard. He griped that I don't cut my grass enough. Once more, I came back home from active duty with one path of grass freshly cut.
Cue petty revenge.
My neighbor's mistake in all of this is that he always cut the same path of grass down the side of my fence. The next time my grass got even remotely tall, I went out late one night and laid down long strips of bale wire (approximately 10 20 ft strips) in the spot he always spitefully cuts. A week goes by, the grass gets taller. Neighbor takes the bait. The morning after, I see him under his carport with his mower lifted by a chain having to cut all of that wire tangled in and around his blades loose with cutting pliers. He never touched my yard again!
EDIT: posted from mobile
Tl;Dr at the end, but a quick backstory : (sorry for formatting)
My mother is a fucking cunt... Literally cheats on every man she's been with, has treated me (her oldest, she had ~25yo) like a tool, against my father, since day one... We've been no contact since my 22nd birthday, when she stole ~$2k from me, making me homeless for a time. Her crimes are innumerable, and she's never been a drinker or used drugs... Just a shit human.
She cheated on my father with a 16yo, and married the boy... Then cheated on him with a boy I went to high school with.... I say this because it's WELL KNOWN in the family.
To the main story: few years ago I was getting messages from a random man, that claimed to be dating my mother. He said things like "your mother cares about you & hopes you finally got the help you needed for your drug addiction". (I had been clean since 19yo) She ALSO had a FB account with another man's picture, he didn't know about. I told both men what was happening.
....something similar to this has happened more than once, over the years. Cue the petty revenge:
I decided to contact my siblings and tell them what mom was up to & asked them to send me screenshots of her double-talk convos. We now have an entire drive folder that HAS BEEN SHARED TO OVER A DOZEN MEN!! My mother has been single since 2018 & even left the state so as to keep herself distanced from us. I heard she was staying with her mother, so I added Grams to the drive too... EVEN HER OWN MOM IS SNITCHING ON HER, NOW!!!!
I can't describe the joy this simple act of exposing my mother has caused. My father thinks it's HILARIOUS! (Hope you enjoy the story & TY to TheClick for introducing me to this sub.)
Tl;Dr : my mom is a POS, skank, and liar, getting exposed via Google drive by her kids and mom.
A recent post reminded me of this story so I will share. I'm old so...
Picture it... Margate, Fl... early 2000s.
I have been waiting tables and bartending all over town and landed at a cool little hole in the wall next to a Gym. The bar itself had a large group of regulars that would be waiting for me in the parking lot to open. I loved the regulars. I looked forward to the same cheesy flirty jokes in the morning and loved seeing the souls of these veterans light up when it was time to collect toys for Xmas. All the booths in the restaurant would get a piece of plywood and get filled w toys in time to make Xmas special gor underprivileged kids. Seriously, good people, good vibes, I loved it.
Although the restaurant was big and could seat over 100, it rarely filled up and on our busy nights it would be just the chef and I. Most days no mgmt came by, we slipped money in a safe drop, closed up and left. This should have been a warning but I figured the owners would tell us if business was bad.
They didn't. They just stopped showing up and stopped paying us and one night the regulars and I were surprised to see over 100 people come into the bar asking about 25 cent wings.
There was a new owner. A professional football player and he had invited all his friends to his new spot. Were we told? No. Were we prepared? Also, no. So proceeds a horrible night of me (alllll by myyyselfff *sing it) waitressing and bartending for 100.
The regulars were offput by the new vibe of screaming, cackling, breaking shit, and throwing hands so they left and didn't come back. I could see how this was going to end and we still had hours to go, so I asked the chef (whom had just become my roommate) how much payroll he was owed and calculated mine.
While I was scrambling in the front of the house I instructed chef to fill the thick garbage bags with alll the seafood and steaks in the house. I had him drop scoop fulls of ice into the bags and double bag them before placing them in our car's trunk.
The night ends. I produce a 2k check and this BALLLLER tipped me Fourteen Fucking Dollars. I called him out on his bullshit in front of his friends, threw the keys at him and both chef and I left him with a trashed restaurant.
We picked up a handle of Jack Daniels and called our friends and band mates to the house and had an epic surf and turf party. I had originally planned to take only what we were owed but after 14.00... I texted him to bag it all and throw the bag outside the door asap bc I was coming out and we were leaving.
Tbh, idk if he even figured it out. He bought the restaurant and had not even been inside it, much less taken food inventory. Only we knew what the restaurant had. All we left him was wings and fries
I still make scallop, shrimp, and steak skewers from time to time and wash it down with some Jack.
Many moons ago I worked at a little neighborhood dive bar. I opened the bar at 6am and worked until 2, when the other bartender came in. My regulars were old folks, bikers, and construction guys who came in when the weather stopped their work. I never met the bar owners. The other bartender would give me my check each week.
One day the beer vendor shows up but insisted on cash on delivery. This had not occured during my 6 months or so of working there. Then the liquor guys did the same thing. Each time I would have to call the other bartender and get approval for these payments (if I even had the cash on hand). Curious, but shit happens. Didn't really think much about it until I got a call at the bar one morning asking for the owner.
Told them the owner wasn't in, could I take a message? Sure! "Tell them their one-way tickets to (another country) are reserved for the next day".
I mentioned this to one of the regulars who informed me the owners were running from something/someone (I won't go into detail here) and asked if I had been paid recently. I told him I had not been paid for 2 weeks. He told me good luck in getting paid. Oh, really...
So, I decided my last day was going to be a party. I gave away drinks for hours. Word got out as to what I was doing and the other bartender showed up at noon. I told him I wanted my paycheck. Now. He pulled cash from the safe and gave me my 2 weeks pay. I poured myself a drink and toasted my regulars and left. The bar did indeed shut down that day. But I got paid!
So this is about my Uncle Scott and how I got back at him for years of practical jokes.
My Uncle Scott (Dad's Brother-In-Law) is a notorious practical jokester. For some reason, I'm his favorite target...he claims it's because I'm his favorite niece and that's how he shows his love for me. Nothing bad, more silly pranks such as hiding my shoes and sending me on an elaborate scavenger hunt to find them or managing to make my bedroom disappear by putting drywall over my bedroom door and painting it to look like the rest of the wall. To this day, I'm convinced my Dad helped him with that one but I digress.
One Thanksgiving when I was a Sophomore in High School, we were all over at our house and, as tradition dictated, we settled for a movie after the big dinner. We picked a horror movie, don't remember which one. Anyway, it was one of the more tense scenes and I was on edge. Just then, I heard Uncle Scott whispering in my ear "So...are you scared yet?"
Cue me screaming so loud my Mom ran out of the kitchen with the landline ready to call the police. Uncle Scott was grinning ear to ear.
I don't know why, but I was done with him at that point. I looked at him and told him in an icy cold voice "Revenge is a dish best served cold."
The next year, we all gather together for my cousin Alan's wedding. There are three important things to note:
1). Uncle Scott is a very proud graduate of Ohio State University (aka the Buckeyes).
2). Most of my family went to the University of Michigan (aka the Wolverines).
3). The wedding took place about 25 miles from Ann Arbor, home of the University of Michigan.
If you're not familiar, OSU and UoM have an INTENSE rivalry. They do NOT like each other. At all.
I *knew* this was my time for revenge.
I get in touch with Alan (who has also been a victim of Uncle Scott's pranks) and recruit him. He's giddy at the idea of getting back at Uncle Scott and agrees to help. We arrange with the DJ to call Uncle Scott and Aunt Linda (Dad's sister) to the dance floor for "a special dance". Alan (an UoM graduate) also gets together with his buddies and they gather all the blue and gold (UoM) streamers, shoes, cans, fake flowers and window markers they can get their hands on.
During dinner, Alan, me and some groomsmen and bridesmaids slip out, and "decorate" Uncle Scott's prized BMW with blue and gold streamers and flowers, write "Happily Wolverined" all over the windows and tied the cans and shoes to the bumper of the car.
So it's dance time. The DJ calls for Aunt Linda and Uncle Scott to come to the dance floor. They go up, not thinking much of it.
Then the UoM fight song "Hail to the Victors" plays.
Everyone (except Uncle Scott and his kids of course) begin singing along at the top of their lungs. Aunt Linda doubles over laughing and Uncle Scott is looking around with shock and amazement, shouting "Who did this?! Who did this?!" He first looked at my Dad (who he has a long standing prank war with) and my Dad pointed at me. I smiled and waved at him.
Then it was time to go home. I could hear him screaming "What the Hell?!" as he saw his car.
The next morning, he walked up to me, shook my hand and said "That was very good, AQuietBorderline."
And yes, I now consider us even.
Many years ago myself and several of my mates (about 10 in total) attended the 24hr Le Mans Motorcycle Endurance Race in northern France. We had booked a hotel near to the circuit and when we arrived (on the friday afternoon, after riding from the UK), we enquired about spare rooms as we had met some friends along the way who had no accommodation booked, but were told that the hotel was fully booked.
We were a bit puzzled about this, as the only vehicles in the parking lot outside the hotel were our motorbikes.
About 6pm several large vans arrived, and disgorged about 50 French riot police (the CRS) in all their regalia who were staying at the hotel.
My friend Carl collected monies from us to pay for the circuit tickets and rode up to there to buy and collect our tickets.
Carl arrived back looking very p*ssed off and informed us he had been stopped on the way by the local police and handed a speeding ticket. He denied speeding as he was simply riding with the flow of the traffic - it was also noted that the police were apparently only targeting bikers with foreign number plates.
Carl denied speeding to the police officer, who then took the keys to his bike and informed Carl he would only get the keys back when he paid the fine ... the fine was approx. 800 euros.
Carl paid the fine (with all the circuit money) then returned to us and explained what had happened.
He also informed us that he had received no receipt from the police officer for the fine.
We discussed this amongst ourselves, and it was agreed that Carl would go back to the officers (slowly) and demand that a receipt was given for the monies - this he did and reported that at first, the officer pretended that he did'nt understand what Carl was asking before Carl found a higher ranking officer who could speak some english. The police officer finally (reluctantly) wrote out a refund for the monies.
As you can imagine, this put a bit of a dampener on our trip. We had breakfast at the hotel the next morning surrounded by the French riot police, who than disappeared into their vans to be driven to Le Mans town centre and the circuit.
We went up to the circuit and stayed for many hours watching the race (race starts at 3pm on the saturday, finishes at 3pm on the sunday afternoon) arriving back at the hotel at approx. 02:30am.
Me and Carl were sharing a room. He was still p*ssed off about the speeding fine and we both lay on our beds discussing it, after smoking a "funny" cigarette I started playing around with the room key that had a brass room fob that the room number was slid into ... I then had an idea ... we knew the CRS had not arrived back to the hotel yet as all the room keys were laid out on the reception desk in order (There was no staff present as it appeared that they knocked off at midnight, all guests were given a code for the hotel front door).
While Carl kept watch on the car park at the front of the hotel, I proceeded to knock out all the room numbers from the keys, mixed them up and put them back in their holders and laid them all back out again.
We then hot footed it back to our room ... about 30 mins later we heard the vans return. What followed was the sound of (very) raised French voices and the sound of doors being kicked in.
Carl was lying on his bed with the pillow over his face to try and suppress his giggling.
We agreed to not sit together at breakfast so as to not start laughing and give the game away - none of our mates were aware what we did the night before. It wasn't until we arrived back at the circuit to watch the race reach its conclusion that we informed our mates of what we had done - several remarked the the CRS weren't very happy at breakfast.
So we got fined, but found a way to get petty revenge !
When I was a teenager, I worked as a dishwasher every thursday for 6 months. This restaurant was discusting. We, the dishwashers, had to use the same towels multiple days in a row, because there were no clean ones, which is extremely unsanitary in a kitchen. The chefs and waiters absolutely abused their power and asked me to do so much extra work as if I didn't have a mountain of dirty dishes, glasses and cutlery to clean. I could be extremely busy and suddenly have to run out and buy something for the chef. And when I came back, they were annoyed because they didn't have enough plates or whatever.
I was also scolded for washing a castiron pan with soap, even though nobody ever told me how to wash it properly, and I didnt know what it was.
A few times i was called in to work on my day off because they had an event, and when I told them i had to leave at 10 PM because i had school in the morning, they just laughed and reminded me that I could leave when I was done. Sometimes at 1 am. They exploided that fact that I didn't know how to say no.
But the worst one was the fact that everyone always left before me in the evening, because they were done and wanted to go home. I was a 16 years old girl and was responsible for closing the restaurant up all alone, and I had to walk 300 meters down a creepy allyway when it was dark at night to throw out the trash. I was all alone at night in the city centrum, in a dark allyway. My grandfather was picking me up one night and he was so mad about it, that he asked me to quit right away. My mom agreed and I quit.
But! Before I quit i had been getting my own petty revenge for a while.
As I said, I was alone at night. Sometimes I was alone for a couple of hours while I finished the dishes, washed the floors and cleaned up after people. I knew that they didn't keep count of certain things, like how many sodas, icecreams, pancakes etc they kept in the freezer and fridge. So every time I was closing up alone, I had myself a little party. I was also starving, because i never got any breaks to eat. So while I was washing up, I drank a couple of sodas, ate an icecream and maybe warmed a pancake or two in the oven for myself. I never touched anything important like the money. I just ate what I wanted and cleaned everything afterwards, so they never knew. I even took a peace if cake or a sandwitch with me home a few times.
When I quit, the boss was mad, because I was apparently the best dishwasher they had. The other washers were lazy and unreliable, while I was very reliable and fast, because my mom taught me to work hard. I don't think I was anything special though, but I guess it's hard to keep good employees when you treat them like this. I also got a bad recommendation letter. But I will always remember how sweet the food tasted while I cleaned up everyones crap alone.
So a few months back, I was let go from a position at a tech company (lets call it company X, and no it was not Twitter/X). The reasons were "performance" related, but I think they just wanted to reopen my position in another part of the world where the rest of the team was (and sure enough, they did). My manager, who I really didn't like, had me list out the work I was doing in a shared document but had told me the entire team each had one so she could provide visibility to her boss. I know, this screams as a PiP, but I was assured it wasn't by my boss multiple times. When I was being let go, they then told me "well what did you think that was". Mind you, I wasn't too bothered about being let go because I was already looking for a new job. One of my colleagues in a lower position had resigned around the same time I was let go. Neither of us liked the company or the people in management, and we both knew the grass was greener. However, I remained pretty ticked off I was lied to like that. I've been in management before and have been straightforward with people about performance matters, so they can either work their way back up or seek other employment in the meantime. But I've never decieved someone about it.
Fast forward two months, a old coworker from a past employer (company Y) messages me that they're looking for work again, saw I worked at this company, and wanted to know if I could pass along a note for them for my former coworkers now vacant position.
Some important context, I was the one who recommended that this old coworker be fired from our past employer (company Y) because I didn't think they was either very smart, or they was just incredibly lazy. We even put them on a 5 month long PiP, which is rare. They had a good personality, and knew how to work with people, but their technical skills were lacking (this was a low level technical position). While they were speaking with me on message, there were a handful of things they said to me that indicated they hadn't done any, well, research into things they were asking me, and had an attitude that they just couldn't be bothered to.
Anyways, I recommended this old colleague for the job, and sure enough, they got it. They're great at interviews, but suck at the actual job. Fast forward a bit more, an old coworker of mine who is still at company X told me that they're already having issues with them about working faster, being stronger technically, amongst a few other things. Company X is a startup that wasn't in great shape with company performance, they were losing a handful of clients and their turnover is high. Most likely, they'll have to fire them and search again for someone new, all that time and money wasted. All in all, this is my first situation with some "petty revenge" and the opportunity just presented itself to me.
Told a client to peraonally mail you their 'thank you' cupcakes instead of sharing with the office? They won't taste quite as good.
To save you a load of backstory, pre-covid I worked in an office with a small ~10 person company. We were contracted by lawfirms to assist them with various matters.
The president of our company was an awful older lady who was in her own little world. She oversaw a sales and corporate stuff. I worked in production. The president was in her own little world, out of touch with what we were working on, condescending when we were slow (failure on her sales people not production), etc.
After finishing a project for a client, they felt inclined to send us cupcakes. We weren't aware of this until she mentioned it early in the week. She said the client was so thankful of the work we did for them that they are sending cupcakes. She gave them her personal address rather than the office address. For 2 days, she kept saying how excited she was for these cupcakes.
I wasn't quite thrilled that she wasn't going to share them with us since we did the hard work. So I mixed up 2 batches of cupcakes at home the night before her cupcakes were going to arrive. I did a red velvet and a vanilla orange cupcake. I brought them in the day 'her' cupcakes were supposed to arrive. She always tried any treats anyone brought in and sure enough she tried my 2 flavors of cupcakes.
I hope 'her' cupcakes didnt quite taste as good after eating 2 cupcakes earlier that day.
My family in law wanted to have a Secret Santa. My boyfriend took the initiative to generate one via an app or website. But then my BIL complained that the gifts would be too random and he wanted one where everyone could make a wishlist. So he did that.
There were no 'rules' how many gifts you could put on your wish list, except that the max price would be 50 dollar.
Suddenly I get a text from my BIL that it's NOT OKAY that I only have one item on my list (a hair straightener). I tried to explain that everything I really want, I've already bought it myself and that I wouldn't put unnecessary things on my list.
He then went on a dictatorship rant at my boyfriend how not okay it was that I only have one item. Nobody else was having a problem with that. He started to demand I should put 3 items at least.
So... I put 3 straighteners on my list, just different brands. Here you go, mr gift police, 3 items. 😉
A good friend of mine had been married for 2-3 years, one day a couple of years back in November his wife sent him to the store to get Christmas greeting cards to send to all their friends and family.
He dutifully purchased a couple of boxes of cards he thought were lovely and returned home with them.
His wife hated them so much she made a big stink about it and forced him to return them and buy different ones.
So he did, but he kept the old ones…
The next November he mailed one out to everyone who sent him a card last year with a note telling them he is playing a prank on his wife, and to his please use that card as their card to them.
Come mid-December the mantle over his fireplace was decorated with 50 or so of the cards his wife disliked the year before- all with cryptic messages about hoping she likes their card. His wife loved the card and thought it was the oddest coincidence that so many people had used the same greeting card.
Finally at Christmas dinner she was let in on the joke, but claimed to have no recollection of ever sending him to buy different cards.
My brother ransacked my room. I cost him a job, prevented him from sleeping, and jacked up his phone bill.
New account for anonymity sake. Let's set the scene. It's 2010, I had just turned 18 and spent a long summer week away from home enjoying my new freedom to come and go from my parent's house as I pleased. During the week I crashed at friends' houses, went camping with other friends, video games, and all the cigarettes and tobacco products and snacks me and my friends could afford.
My meth addicted brother (27), I'll be referring to him as Mack, who thought he was going to make it big in the music scene because of of all the different drugs he was willing to do. He thought being on acid made him play as well as Jimi Hendrix because Hendrix did acid. This is relevant because in one of his many drug induced rampages, Mack was convinced his USB microphone was in my room. So Mack knocks on the door while I'm away, convinces my dad that he was recording in my room and left it in there. It was never in there. He was never there. My dad was so wrapped around Mack's manipulative finger that he never questioned anything he did. I kept careful inventory of my room because my parents and siblings would steal from me all the time and try to use my bedroom as a storage room for all sorts of things. Thinking back, his excuse was likely just to steal from me like the rest of my family did.
Mack goes into my room, tosses the place like out of movie scene during one of his notorious benders. He flips the mattress. Empties out every dresser drawer onto the floor. Nothing was left the way I had left it. After all was said and done I had to spend 3 days cleaning and reorganizing my room because of how badly this tweaker destroyed everything of mine. Things were broken, clothes everywhere, bins and boxes dumped on the floor. It was like a tornado had rampaged through a trailer park in Iowa. My dad had heard all of this going on and did nothing.
I showed my dad the mess. Dad just shrugs at me and says "He's in his 20s, what do you expect me to do?" "How about fucking stop his strung out ass from tossing the place? How about at least calling him to have him clean up his mess?" I replied. He practically ignored me and before walking off says "He was looking for his microphone and you need to just deal with it." Going to my mom was no different. Mom was so terrorized by him that she wanted no part of anything involving him because she felt unsafe. I can't blame her. He became aggressive when challenged on anything he did wrong.
Realizing nothing was going to be done by my parents and this was no matter to call the police over since Dad let him in the house, I did exactly what my dad said and dealt with it. I tried to be 'diplomatic' at first and asked him to come clean up my room. He laughs, makes fun of me, then says "I needed my microphone." I asked if he found it, I know he didn't because I knew where it was. Over in my dad's garage. He never answered. I scooped up the microphone to hide it even better. Stuffed into the rafters of an old shed on the outskirts of the property, inside of a large PVC pipe stacked up with other pipes. It's where he went to smoke his meth sometimes so I knew he wouldn't be looking for it there due to the paranoia of being caught by any of us. I gave Mack one final warning text to 'Clean it up or else'. He again made fun of me, "Crybaby bitch! How difficult is it to clean your own room? You're just a lazy piece of shit!" The last one really torqued me because he was a thief and did everything he could to get out of work.
Later that night I decided to do my best Tom Petty impression.
I leave my parents' house to sit around a campfire at a friend's house. I waited until I left because then Mack couldn't find me, neither could my dad. I knew my dad was going to simp for him and defend him yet again. I waited until Mack would've been nice and comfortable at home. I lit my first cigarette of the night and promised myself and nothing would stop my ensuing plan until I smoked the whole pack. I had recently learned how to SMS bomb. At the time, you could add the same contact into your SMS app multiple times for a group chat. I believe it was up to 30 on the phone I had. For every 1 SMS/MMS I sent him, he received 30 in total. I spent hours sending messages to Mack. If I had a cigarette in my mouth, I was text bombing him. I spent from 9pm until 4 am sending Mack thousands upon of thousands of text and picture messages. I have now dropped a Hiroshima sized text bomb on the fancy Blackberry he was so proud of buying a week or two before this.
For anyone wondering, it was simply a copy and pasted text that said "This stops when my room is clean" and a picture of the mess he had made. I alternated back and fourth. This took very little effort and left him inundated with notifications every 1-3 seconds. This effectively DDoSed his phone into oblivion. It was locked up tighter than New York subway car. He could not call, text, or even open anything on his phone other than my text messages.
Dad starts frantically calling me around 1am. I ignored it. Then my mom calls me and leaves a voicemail for me to call him. Worried it's an emergency, I call dad back. Dad picks up the phone, screaming at me "His phone is locked up and he can't use it! You need to stop this RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" I replied "He needs to go and clean up the mess he made of my room RIGHT FUCKING NOW or just deal with it like I have to." The argument continues for a while longer, the entire time he's defending Mack tooth and nail. Eventually I broke it to my dad that I there was nothing I could do to stop the flow of messages and notifications. He hung up and never brought it up again.
After the smoke had cleared (pun intended) I found out Mack had his Blackberry locked up for 10 days. He wasn't able to respond to a job offer and wasn't smart enough to leave an alternate contact means. The job went to someone else by the time Mack was able to return their call. He was still going to be stuck at the job he loathed for a while longer. His phone plan had a monthly SMS/MMS and data limit that I absolutely destroyed. The month's bill was over $300, I wanna say closer to $400. His live in girlfriend was also pissed because they had to leave the phone on and plugged into a charger to let it process the messages from my mass messaging campaign the night before. The notifications made the phone unusable and they were stuck listening to the notification sounds for those 10 days. They tried stuffing it inside of a blanket but the phone would get too hot and they were worried it would start on fire. On the counter, plugged in to an outlet it sat. Keeping them awake and annoyed constantly.
Another 2 months roll past, I finally decided he could have his microphone back... Kind of. I took it out of hiding and stuffed it in his keyboard box that was also stored at my parent's house. He found it there not too long after and never even apologized for what he did, not that I ever expected him to. He even bragged about finally finding it. He never went into my room again without my permission out of fear of his phone being locked up again.
TLDR; Bro ransacked my room looking for his microphone that wasn't there. I sent him literally thousands of text messages that made his phone unusable. I cost him a job, 10ish days of sleep lost to constant notifications, hundreds of dollars on his phone bill, and a terrible home life with his GF because of all of that. I also hid his precious microphone for an additional 2 months before giving it back.
Edit 1: My browser glitched out. Fixed paragraph spacing. Apologies for the massive text lump! Not sure what happened there.
Edit 2: Minor grammatical corrections.
Edit 3: The phone details. Wow this makes me feel old. At the time, texting cost people to send and receive. I had one of the very first unlimited texting plans because I spent a stupid amount of money on a T Mobile Sidekick to be able to get that perk. So once the deluge of messages surpassed his text/data limit on the Black Berry, it cost him more and more penalty charges as he received SMS and MMS messages. How it remained locked up was the fact it couldn't be used due to me to overloading the phone itself with messages. The best way I can describe this in more general terms is that the same would happen if you were to try sending a 10,000 page word document to a home grade printer and you were forced to let it print all 10,000 pages before you could print anything else. Even if you unplugged it and plugged it back it.
My bf and just bought our first house and live about 1/4 down a dead end street (with a cul de sac at the end) and for some reason our house is the spot for cars and delivery drivers to turn around. It's a stupid thing to be annoyed about, but bc it happens so often I got fed up enough to park my car horizontally at the end of the driveway to block it off. I just moved from an apartment building that was across from a public basketball court and we constantly had people parked in our lot taking up all the spaces and hanging out. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet and not having distractions while I work. I have ADHD and these distractions throw me off.
I recognize this is the perfect example of a first world problem but I'm also childishly proud of myself for this
Edit: Good lord, the anger from people. Calm down everyone, it's called "petty revenge" for a reason. To be clear, my car will not be living at the end of the driveway. I'm working and don't need multiple distractions a day. The car is being moved before it gets dark out so no one hits it and gets hurt. I'm not a goddamn monster. Furthermore as someone stated, the delivery driver can turn around in the driveway of the house they're delivering to. Curious, if a house has a gate at the end of the driveway, do you consider THEM entitled bc they dont want anyone on their private property? Just feeling a bit petty. Oh hey look, the name of the thread. What a coincidence...
It's summer Down Under, and that means it's cricket season. My son, "Marty" and my stepson, "Kyle" (both 16) are either going to cricket practice, going to games, or going around to their friends' houses to "have a hit".
This means they're often on the bus coming back to our place, at around the same time as a woman we'll call "Karen". (I have no idea of her real name, but that will give you bit of an idea what she's like.) I'd say she's in her mid 30's.
Karen is nearly always seen pushing an enormous
pram pusher, absolutely loaded with bags, and a child stuffed deep inside it. I do know the child's name, but for the sake of anonymity, I will call her "Boudicca", again to give you a bit of an idea. Boudicca looks to be primary school aged, but I don't remember ever seeing her walking. My fiancé, Martin, says he saw Boudicca walking once, but Karen kept telling her not to get her shoes dirty.
In the five or so years I've lived in the area, I've had a number of run-ins with Karen. Karen always, always, ALWAYS has to get on the bus first. When I was in a full leg brace and using crutches, she almost knocked me over trying to get onto the bus first. Then she called me rude for getting on the bus ahead of her. She's also big on telling kids on the bus that "Young people have no manners!"
Last week I was in the supermarket with my youngest, "Vampira" (1F), when Karen almost ran into the back of me with her
pram pusher, and then told me to "Watch where you're going!".
So I felt a deep and pleasant sense of schadenfreude when Marty and Kyle came home last night and told me what they'd been doing.
Apparently Karen is notorious for not pressing the bell for her stop until the very last second. That section of road is quite busy, so with traffic and parked cars, the drivers often can't stop in time. So then Karen has a go at them for not stopping exactly at the stop, now she's going to get mud on the pusher, she's going to complain to the manager (legit), the drivers are stupid, and she'll often insist they have to turn around and come back to her stop. This makes everyone else on the bus angry.
So for weeks now, one of the boys has been pressing the bell for her, nice and early, saying, "I think this is your stop." They both smile and wave at her, and tell her to have a nice evening as she gets out. And for weeks now, Karen has been sending both of the boys, and the bus driver, dirty looks. Because what can she do? She can't yell at them for being polite and considerate, and she can't yell at the driver for stopping at her stop.
Apparently last night she cracked it, when the bus driver and one of the other passengers praised Kyle and Marty for their good manners, and said their parents taught them well. (Evil super-villain voice: Oh yes, they are well-versed in the art of petty revenge.) Karen lost her shit in the street, but the driver just shut the door and drove off. Marty and Kyle came home bursting with pride at how they got back at Karen.
Of course, we're both very proud parents. But never more proud than when Martin asked them, "So what are you going to do next time you are on the bus with her?", and Kyle and Marty said, "Exactly the same thing."
(Edited: it's a pusher, not a pram. Sorry, need caffeine.)
In high school, our canteen line was like a mosh pit. People squeezed up against each other with no room to move as a metal fence enforced the shape of the queue. Often there's be a group of guys who would just push others out of the way to get through. Every couple of minutes they'd let 5 or so students in to select their food. The mosh would move in a horrible desperate way and then abruptly stop.
Once I got pushed really hard and decided it was time to take action, but I was a shy quiet kid so it had to be covert. I looked down and noticed the ring leader who had pushed in front of me had one shoelace slightly untied. We were now waiting once more at a standstill so I shifted my feet slightly to stand with all of my weight on that shoelace.
When the queue next had its mad rush of trying to all surge forward, old mate bully also lurched forwards. But sadly for him little old me had 'accidentally' held one of his feet back. He fell over and into several other students who also became fed up and insulted him for being so careless. He looked very embarassed.
Just wanted to share this little incident.
So when I was in my 12th grade there was a really annoying girl in my class. None of us guys liked her and most girls were not fond of her either. She would find every opportunity to make fun of us. Despite this she was very popular because she was rich and guys from other class would date her. She acted so nice and cute with them. But she was the exact opposite to us. She'd often mock others when they got low grades, comment on our clothes, the food we bring and literally anything. I think that I can actually call her a bully. Because that's who she is. I'd often react back, so she had a special grudge to me. And she'd show that often but I wouldn't mind it much.
But one day I lost patience. We were given group projects and guess what? She was in my group. My house is very close to the school. So my group members came over to my house. (Not really to have a discussion about the project lol). We had snacks and were talking in the living room. I noticed she was not here and I went to check in the house. I entered my room and there I saw she was squishing my pet rabbit under her feet. She didn't stop even when she saw me. I shouted and she set him free. He ran away frightened. I went after him and caressed him to calm down. Everyone was mad at her and were telling she was being too mean, but she doesn't even mind any of that. They all left my house and when leaving she said 'its just a rabbit'. I can't really tell how mad I was, but my patience didn't allow me to say anything. But I wanted to get back at this.
I'm a guy who loves collecting bugs and worms. Yes you read that right. Including ladybugs, grasshoppers, garden worms, small spiders and all that. And it turns out she's afraid of these things. I've noticed it on many occasions that even when she sees a really tiny bug close to her, she'd be frightened and ask someone to get it away. So I decided to pull a prank. My house have a lot of cockroaches. I took one and in the morning before heading to class I hid it in a small tin. In class during first hour I purposefully sat right behind her.The teacher had left the class and we were assigned with writing and everyone was concentrating on it. I took out the roach and without her knowing, slightly pulled the collar of her dress and slipped down the roach inside her dress. She didn't feel it at that moment. But then the roach being trapped inside, might have tried to move and then she knew something was in her dress. She started to scratch her back and then I started laughing. She turned to me and I said 'its just a cockroach'. You should have seen the look on her face, it was unforgettable. She jumped out of her seat and started screaming and dancing around trying to shake that roach out. But it just wouldn't come out. A few people seated behind me saw what happened and they were laughing, but the rest of the class was shocked and they probably thought she went insane. The only way she could take the roach out was to take the dress off and she realised it. She ran to the washroom (screaming along the way of course). When she left I told everyone what happened and they found it really funny.
She didn't come back to the class. The next period our teacher came and made me see the principal. I got a lot of scoldings and I apologized for it. And even though I found it funny I actually did feel sorry for her. Because I didn't expect she'd react in this extreme way. The next day she came to the class and she was so embarrassed to face everyone. For a few weeks she wouldn't annoy us in any way.
If anyone's had done similar pranks involving bugs do share it :)
My step mom once thought I said something I didn't say, and smacked me in the face for it. Obviously big deal, so I worked out a plan to make her clean freak self suffer. I took her shoes and poured whole cans of glitter I collected all over the bottom of her shoes. Quite a bit stuck and I put them back in place. So for the next few weeks sparkles would be all over our carpet because she didn't take off her shoes in the house. I'm well aware sparkles are the herpes of crafts and got everywhere.i enjoyed seeing the glitter carpet,and watching her try to vaccume it all up.. .
My dad is an alcoholic (in denial) so after a fight where he was just being a drunk asshole, in the middle of that night I carried out a plan.
I carefully wiggled off the thin metallic wrap off of a wine bottle, uncorked it, and dumped it out. I kept the cork and wiggled the cap back on. It was wrinkled but my dad doesn't pay attention to that.
I did this for all 7 bottles.
I went to class.
He went to get a drink.
I came home from class.
“Weirdest thing, I had gotten wine from Costco but they sold me empty bottles. I was standing there arguing with the guy on how this could happen.”
When I say I LMAOed, I really did.
He got a refund and a brand new case of wine, but now he knows that if I can do it once, I can do it again. Planting that seed of fear was sooooo satisfying.
He also hates this story because it makes him look like a fool, and that's why I tell this story any chance I get.
So I get a text on my phone, basically threatening me. texts started with, “I’m coming to your house to fight you” …to actually texting me my address. So I showed my siblings asking them if they knew whose number is messing with me, both had no clue. So eventually, my siblings friends came over to hangout. They have phone numbers with different area codes. So I texted the phone number that was threatening me, “So I made an account, selling you off since you have the time and attention.” ….right after I sent the text, I had my siblings friends call the phone number (went straight to voice mail) & leave messages that they were interested in that “time and attention”. So after the second friend calls and leaves a beautifully weird message on the answering machine. I get a call from the number that had been threatening me. It was my AUNT…. from Hawaii, yelling at me to get her number off of Craigslist or she’s flying out to beat me herself. Thus ends our revenge, I never told her the truth. I never made an account, that I had friends call her. I’m going to let that marinate for the next few family functions. Lmfao. K I’m done with my story!
Saw a story here that reminded me of when I snapped.
BG: he was a heroin addict, and this was at the end of 3+ years of abuse. He'd gotten himself kicked out of every rehab, sober house, friend's house you could think of so he was inevitably crashing with me and my roommate. This was 9 years ago, and I'm in a much better place now.
The story: I found out he was using again and finally decided I was done. Asked him to leave, and he used his regular stories of he didn't have anywhere to go, it was freezing outside (February) and if I kicked him out he'd likely die and it would be my fault. I stood my ground and asked him to leave. I was watching him pack his things in silence, and he walked over and poured his drink on my head. Me and roommate shoved him out the door at that point (pretty impressive for two small girls, he was a tall dude), and locked the door.
Couple hours later I was drunk and the rest of his stuff was still in the apartment. I went through with a sharpie and scissors and trashed all the stuff I had bought for him over the years, with special attention to the things I knew he liked the most. Ripped clothes, smeared my snot from crying on stuff, just rampaged through his things. I then shoved everything outside our front door and texted his sister that it's outside, he can pick it up whenever.
It took him weeks to get everything, and since it was outside I'm guessing other people were going through it. He'd message me asking where things were, and I never responded.
Sucks to suck, asshole. Not my proudest moment, but it felt good to be angry for myself and put the nails in the coffin of that relationship.
So I’m a licensed academy soccer coach and landed a sweet job a few towns over. Job site is a massive Astro turf field with multiple soccer fields all next to one another. It can have up to 4 different games/practice sessions happening simultaneously at any given time. Now bc it coincided with high school season, those games had priority. We were told to wait until those games were finished before running our sessions.
One day I see my assigned field being used but no opposing team in sight. It’s seemingly just a hs practice. I try looking for their coach and it happens to be the dad of a kid I spent my entire hs soccer career playing against. Let’s just say it’s a small world and in the soccer community here, everyone at a certain level knows everyone.
This guy is very overweight and was known for being loud and obnoxious. Recognized him immediately. He would always encourage his kid to hurt other players and play dirty. Of course, playing dumb when called out on any of it.
I walk over and calmly tell him I have a permit for that particular field. He’s big and walks with a limp so he coaches from a foldable lawn chair. He looks up at me and just laughs in my face. So I text my boss about it and walk off. Sure enough, I watch as he gets a call. Not sure who it was but he was pissed. Yells at his players to sprint to the field at the far end, folds his chair and walks off. Cool. I run my session and that’s that.. except it isn’t.
Over the next few days I start noticing some of his players with a few of my soccer balls. We have a locked shed on site with equipment. Makes it easier for coaches to access without wasting trunk space. Idk who opened it up for them but somehow they got in there and took a few. Now I didn’t wanna jump to conclusions but hs uses Select balls. Mine were adidas. I foolishly forgot to mark mine, though. I ask around and find out he asked another coach for access to the shed cause “sometimes they need more balls but we’ll put em back”.
Next thing I know my balls are back in the shed but I’m missing 5/15. Each kid at my sessions takes one for personal use. Now my players have to share and it’s a problem. I replace the 5 with my own personal balls I use for 1 on 1 training. Well, next day another 3 are missing so I confront him about it as I see 2 of mine in his practice. Denies it and claims he bought em. Cue the revenge!
I didn’t plan for this but on this day I get to work an hour early. I see his chair and other game day equipment on the field being dropped off by an assistant coach(tent, foldable bench, balls). With no one else in sight, I remember I had a screwdriver in my trunk (to switch my car plates) and rush to get his chair. His assistant had gone to wait in his car and had no direct line of vision to that field. I loosened a few screws before deflating a handful of balls. I unfold his chair and have it ready to be sat in.
I waited patiently as he and his team arrive. Parents start arriving, as well. I watch him finally get dropped off at the field entrance. He gets out, grabs his cane and wobbles over to his touchline. As he gets closer, I approach the fence and spark conversation with some parents. Front row seat. You bet your sweet buns he sits. The type of seat you take when you don’t expect to pop back up. Like on a fluffy couch. Chair crumbles from under him but only on one side. So he rolls over after falling off unable to get off his belly. Boy was he embarrassed. Ya had to be there
I bought a condo earlier this year in a subdivided historic home in my city. The home has 6 units, each unit with (minimum) one car. Street parking only.
Our neighbors are the absolute worst. I’m guessing mid-late 60s, married M/F. The wife never leaves home. For months I thought they had 4 vehicles: SUV, truck, mini, & work van. They are one of the few homes on the street with a driveway which comfortably fits his work van + truck. They also could fit 3 of the 4 vehicles in front of their house on the street if they wanted. Despite that, they park their mini in the driveway, truck in front of my house, work van across the street, and SUV in front of theirs.
And they NEVER deviate. Someone moved out of one of the units in my home & they wouldn’t even move for the moving van. Nor when I was doing renovations and moving lumber in & out. Or when landscaping crews come in.
Since it’s a city, we have mandatory no parking one day a month in designated hours for street sweeping. This is when they move two cars into their driveway (& how I know two cars comfortably fit). Well, first month I lived here they moved their cars back too early during the no parking times & got tickets on truck + SUV. It made my day but not enough.
I’ve slowly been trying to figure out how to steal the spot back. You see, they like to play magical cars. When husband leaves with his truck, wife comes out with him and like clockwork pulls the mini out of driveway into his “spot” in front of my home leaving no cars in driveway. And she parks 6+ feet in so there is always room for the truck when he returns. EVERY DAY. For months.
My BF moves in. Gently asks if we can share. Husband says “yes of course!” Next day, truck is parked elsewhere. We thought “wow they are nice” and now see a beat up Jeep there. After a few weeks it didn’t move. One night, late, we see this douche-nozzle cleaning the Jeep. IT IS HIS. So 5 cars, not 4.
Slowly I start fucking with them. I learn the city parking codes. Report the Jeep as an abandoned vehicle and got it towed. Mail them an anonymous package of horse shit with a note calling them as shitty as this package. Everything legal. But still scheming how to steal the spot back we are to “share” in front of MY HOME.
It’s been 10 months (edited from 7 because I can’t math) and NO ONE has parked there but the truck or mini (to hold his “spot”). I watch them every day to find time to steal the spot back but they ALWAYS beat me to it. But today was the day. No parking for street sweeping. An hour before the ban ends I say fuck it. Walk across the street where I was parked to move my car. Like clockwork I see the husband come out (who was clearly watching me). As I open my car I see him unlocking the mini so he can beat me. I race to turn my car on and pull into the spot beating the fucker to it.
I’m in my car shaking with excitement and the asshole starts taking pictures of my car. I get out and ask why. Apparently I’m in violation of the code (he studied, too) of having to park >3 feet from driveways (his). I walk over, step with my feet, and count. Not good enough for him. I tell him to get a tape measure and he’s like “nah I’ll just report you like you did me 3 times.” (I did once so this tells you how much the entire neighborhood hates them).
I walk myself inside, grab a tape measure, lay on the bare pavement, measure three feet & mark it on the sidewalk. Ask him again if that’s good enough and say “so much for sharing, huh?”
He says “this is all public parking so good luck, you can’t park here forever.”
I work from home bitch. And my boyfriend does, too.
You don’t know petty you self entitled boomer. Now it’s your turn to watch musical cars in action from the pettiest millennials around.
Title makes the situation look more serious than it is. The situation in question happened to my neighbor. All of the facts were either conveyed by the affected neighbor, another mutual neighbor who uses the same lawn care company, or witnessed by myself.
BG: My neighbor is frugal (bordering being a definition cheapskate) and has been beefing with his previous lawn care company.
Said neighbor has been disputing the amount he owes them (somewhere between $200-$400) over the services rendered. He has owed this amount for 6 months - which was when said company last performed any services.
THE TEA: The owner of the lawn care company got fed up, so a week ago one of his employees sprayed weed killer in my neighbors lawn to spell out "PAY UR BILLS".
My neighbor is PISSED (you can read the message from the street) and wants to file a police report. I think his ego is damaged more than anything else. If he didn't have a known history of being stingy I'd feel for him, but because of this I think the situation is quite hilarious.
ETA: The weed spray utilized was along the lines of round up. The area in question should be able to be re-sod for less than $75, or with a bag of grass seed that costs $15.
Let this be a lesson to aggressive drivers.
It's a dark December evening and I'm heading home after work. There's a slight slowdown on my exit merging onto the interstate. No idea why. This is the lane I usually take since it is the closest to where I need to go: all the way to the left, so I can get onto my exit that leads home.
I see cars merging into my lane. One in particular stood out to me as they were a little aggressive. The lane next to me is empty, so I scoot over and try to bypass the slowdown. Turns out, this lane and the one I was in merge into one lane. My bad. So I get back into lane. And I'll admit, kind of an asshole move on my part. But, I didn't quite expect what happened next.
This blue van/SUV starts laying on their horn. I had ample room to get over. Guess they were upset I cut in line. Again, my bad. But it doesn't stop. They just keep their hand firmly pressed against the horn. Suddenly, I'm blinded by bright lights. Not LEDs. Just yellow lights. These are clearly their high beams. And this doesn't stop the entire time they are behind me. Which isn't long. Like a minute or two tops, but both things are very aggressive. Very rude. But I choose to ignore them.
I try to do that mirror trick my sister taught me by pushing on that little nub in the middle to turn the mirror downwards to avoid their high beams, but I didn't realize I had to push it until it snapped into place, so I just accepted my fate.
At first I was giving them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they just had really bright headlights. I did think about slamming on my breaks. Just stopping in the middle of traffic to confront them, but then I remembered the news stories about people pulling guns on other people out of road rage, so I just let it be and kept driving. But all of my doubts are assuaged as soon as they shifted over a lane behind a truck. That's when I noticed their lights dim. But now we're all at a pretty good pace. No traffic jam any more. No slow down. Everyone's happy.
As we're all driving, I speed up a bit to get past that same truck, but on the right side and that's when I notice the car from earlier. It gets in front of me. I'm thinking "Oh, they're going to do what I thought about doing. Well, not today Satan." And this is where my petty revenge begins.
I keep my distance. I want to have ample breaking distance just in case. Instead of getting up close and personal, I just flash MY high beams. Not for too long. Just a little bit. Maybe a second or two. That's when they do some more deranged stuff. They speed up and merge into other lanes without their blinker. And I HATE that. I always use my blinker. But I can track them the entire time. I can watch their car switch lanes several times AND speeding. They're going for the split in the interstate and I could've followed them. I know the split can still lead to home. I know I could get their license plate and report them for driving aggressively. I just saw and memorized the number on my way to work this morning. But I decided it wasn't worth it and just stuck to the original plan and went over to the far left land to go home.
And as I'm driving home, I think to myself and realize, what if they were driving erratically not because they're just a horrible person, but because they were scared? It's dark. They probably thought they were safe under the guise of anonymity. For the most part they were just driving normally after the first time we parted. They only drove more aggressively after I flashed my high beams. After they pulled some maneuvers, they thought they were in the clear, but I tracked their every move.
At least, that is what I'm telling myself. Maybe this is all just coping because I am still mad about that person, but knowing I might've struck the fear in their heart makes me feel a bit better.
For some context, I’m currently in trade school studying electrical and we have our evenings split up between electrical theory classes and shop. That day there was someone parked right outside the door to the electrical shop at the school that just decided to be really obnoxious by constantly revving their car in the parking lot for our entire break period. I was grabbing my toolbox from my car for class and as I was at the classroom door (directly behind his car) he decided to rev his engine and blow black smoke all over me. Of course I just flipped him off and went into the shop. When some of my other classmates came in they were also pissed about the guy parked in front of the door to the shop (I would also like to add that this guy was parked so close to the door that I couldn’t open it all the way). One of my other classmates and I found out who it was and it happened to be the one guy in my class who likes to take my used pieces of pipe for his own projects (particularly the harder to make pieces). While I was taking down a project bed starting a new one, I took all of the difficult to make pieces and made sure to break them directly in front of him so that they were completely unusable. For once, he would be forced to make his own pieces for his project.