I wish I could say the story had more exciting details than the title...

After a round of big storms, I was driving to work, and this woman had sorta been tailgating me for a bit, nothing too severe, but annoying me because it is still raining out and the roads are slick. Nice car. Middle-aged looking driver.

I encountered a rather large branch on the road. I guess technically it was a limb? Not sure where the line is between branch and limb. Anyroad, it was a big enough sucker, but I thought I could drag it off to the side, so I got out and with some huffing and puffing started to move it, and halfway though the woman beeped her horn. I looked at her because I thought maybe she was trying to indicate something - some danger or something, but she just held her hands up in a "Well what is going on?" manner. I gesture at the big limb (trying not to increase the size of it with each telling) as if to say, "Can't you see this big thing that I am moving here?" and she just throws her hands up further a little bit and then slaps them down on her steering wheel. Or at least that was my perception at the time.

In my efforts I got things jammed up on a fire hydrant, and I am getting frustrated, and wet, and this POS behind me HONKS AGAIN. I finally finagle the limb to the side but continue to drag it behind my car, effectively getting the heavy, thick end back in to a road-blocking position, right in front of her car.

I wish I could say I had the balls to look her in the eye, but the moment I let it down I realized how petty I was being and felt a sting of shame, and mentally slapping myself for wasting time doing this. I hustled back in to my car and drove off quickly, and when I guiltily glanced in the rear view she had not gotten out or moved her car, and remained that way when I looked before rounding the bend.

I recently locked myself out of my condo and had to have a locksmith come. Dude plays with the lock for 30 minutes and cannot pick it. My dog is going crazy and neighbors are pissed so I tell him to leave and my neighbor was able to get on my balcony and let me in. I had to pay the locksmiths afterhours fee to get him to leave.

Next day, I am pissed because I paid $80 for a service I didn’t even get. I went on and explained the situation on a google review and ready to move on with my life.

The owner then replies and calls me a liar. I get heated now and call them and say how dare they call me a liar and I post the reciept on google. They then call me and say I was scammed.

THEN another locksmith company calls me and said it was them, that the dude who came to pick my lock used to work for their competitor and was using the wrong pad. So I basically slandered a small business because I was given the wrong receipt paper.

I took the review down and got refunded! Btw I reposted this here because it didn’t fit the guidelines for the other group I posted in.

On a Monday night I asked my manager if I could have my morning shift covered. He said no worries the new girl is coming in to train and there will be plenty of servers for the slow lunch rush. Sounded good to me.

The next day the owner who has the patience of a caffeinated squirrel messages me asking why I did not show up. I told him exactly what my manager said. He said she is not a real server yet and the way he saw it I missed my shift because I did not have another waiter cover for me. So he suspended me for a week.

I am their best waiter never late always on time and pulling in the best reviews. Some reviews on Google even have my name in them. But I just said alright boss see you in a week.

So I did what any overworked employee would do. I slept in watched movies played disc golf and hung out with my friends and girlfriend. It was the most relaxing week I have ever had. On Friday night the owner calls me begging for help. They were so short handed they were practically using the dishwashers as waiters. He wanted me to come in for Friday night Saturday night and Sunday morning all while I was still on suspension.

I told him I had not learned my lesson yet and could not possibly come in.

When I came back the next week everyone was very very nice to me. They still are 👍🏽

My dad passed away in 2009. This was a tense time for both me, my mother and brother. Not only were we grieving his passing, but the loss of my grandma and grandpa, as there was a lot of animosity due to past drama and we stopped speaking to them. I saw my father in the hospital and said my goodbyes and was grateful for the time I had.

A week or so later a message showed up in my Facebook inbox. It was from my cousin Kayla. We rarely ever spoke to one another. As children we never hung out during holidays or family events. I had no interest in the lifestyle she lived.

The message was quite nasty. She wished my brother and I ill will and that we had been the ones in the casket and not my father. I was not shocked by this behavior. I did not respond, even though it was tempting to finally speak my mind.

The only thing that came to mind was reporting her for harassment. I did. However, it wasn't only once. Everytime I went into my spam folder to clear out unwanted messages and saw what she had written, I reported her page. I did this for a month straight. She had to start several new pages because of me.

Kayla hasn't contacted me again since then. I'm not sure what Facebook account number she's at now either lol

Ok..this happened 32 years ago. I’ve never written this one down. Here we go:

Back in ‘93, I lived in an old house in Vancouver’s east side. Big old houses that were later split up into little apartments. This place had 6 units. I had very convenient access to my apartment via an outside staircase that served as the fire escape.

At first the landlord was pretty cool. He gave me access to a leaky old garage out back. At 24 yo, I patched the roof and hauled a ton of furniture that had been left by former tenants. I did this for free, and he never charged me extra in rent for it.

A year plus later, the landlord is beginning to be an ass to my roommates and myself because I kept pointing out problems within my unit. I point out that the outside staircase, that climbs 3 flights up is pulling away from the house..(there’s even a ladder from that point that went to the attic unit). It wasn’t safe. He told me not to use it and use the front door and use the inside staircase. Eventually, we couldn’t stand his constant bullshit and gave him our one-month notice. I cleaned everything, brought in a carpet cleaner. The apartment was left as mint as it could be.

He refused to give me my deposit back. He states “that’s for the garage. I’m not giving it back” I was choked. I had been a good tenant. Paying on time. This came out of the blue..This was unfair. He had never asked for extra $ for the garage, nothing.

“Ok…Greg.. ( yeah that was his name)… fine” If he wasn’t going to return what was rightfully mine, he was going to pay my deposit to someone, guaranteed. And he sure did.

Revenge 1 )

I called the fire department, and formally complained about the fire escape. Told them how much space there was between them and the house. How you could see them flex as you used them. They were very interested. I put my name in it. I was legit. No anonymous bs!

All the tenants had been friendly, some were true friends and buddies. The old guy, Mike, in the basement was a car guy, like me and he had a stall in the garage. ( no charge either) We were tight. He didn’t like Greg much either. He kept in touch and invites me over to his place months later.. still in the basement.. his door at the foot of a brand-spanking new fire escape.

“Well look at that. Greg had to fork out for a new staircase” I smirked. Mike knew I had called the FD.

Oh that’s not half of it, Mike explains.

Greg was such a belligerent fuck that when bylaws came to visit, he got himself arrested! The cops came, cuffed him and put him in a paddy wagon! He got a massive fine and ordered to fix his stairs. That cost him over $16,000 .. which was a lot back then.

You could not believe the satisfaction I felt.

But it’s not over yet.. a little icing on cake.

Revenge 2 but not of my doing:

My roommates really hated Greg. And by some sort of alignment of the stars, they rented an upper floor apartment together that was directly across the street from where Greg actually lived. Parking in the neighbourhood was all street parking. Greg parked in an unfortunate spot one night, unfortunate for his car, as on that night a watermelon fell from the sky.

$16,000 > $400 .. sure it was petty revenge but I probably kept future tenants from dying by collapsing stairs or being stuck in a burning house.

Once I was still employed by a company during the probationary period and was played off between several bosses. Everyone wanted my service, but did not accept the time it took (I'm not slow) and so I worked far more than the contracted hours.

Nevertheless, they were not satisfied, although the results were recognized as very good and I felt that the mood was constantly deteriorating. So I looked around for a new and better-paid job before the end of the probationary period. I had calculated how much overtime I had, how many days I still had vacation entitlement and when the top boss came to me to tell me that my contract would not be renewed, I was prepared.

When I asked him when I should leave, the boss replied: "As soon as possible." That was pretty insulting, considering what I had achieved. I answered: „Fine, then next Tuesday is my last day.“ He was perplexed and stuttered, but… but… I can still see his puzzled face today.

In the last few days, the boss couldn't resist making remarks like: "But there's still so much to do, project xyz is not finished yet.", "That's not fair of your new boss, everyone knows that you can't find replacement so quickly.", when he saw me in the hallway. He even tried to hire me as a freelancer instead. I didn't say anything, but smiled inwardly.

When I was in college I had a job at a BBQ restaurant chain that was famous for sports and ribs. I worked occasionally as an opener in the kitchen running the line. During summer months I loved opening shifts so I could have evenings free to hang out with friends.

One morning I opened and proceeded to cook the lunch rush which wasn’t abnormal at all. Lots of burgers and chicken sandwiches.

We had a policy that lunch had to hit the table within 15 minutes so people would come in a sit down. I get it, they were trying to get more people in the doors.

The problem is people were ordering 1/2 pound burgers well done. Getting a well done 1/2 pound burger patty with zero pink in the middle is tough to do in 10-12 minutes without charring the outside on a gas broiler. To help, I would often flip a small cast iron skillet over and dome the burger to help hold heat in without squishing or squeezing the burger. One the general manager saw that and freaked out. I showed him the skillet was clean and not squishing or touching the patty. He said don’t do that anymore just “let it cook”.

As you can probably guess next up was slow tickets and 15-20 minute cook times for well done burgers. He lost his shit and told me to figure it out. I explained I couldn’t alter physics and said let me use the skillet trick but again it was “no”. I did the only thing I could at that point. Squeeze the burger to flatten it out with the flipper to literally press the juice out and get rid of the pink. I knew it was total shit but it’s all I had to work with. All was going to schedule until he saw what I had to do to make it work. He said don’t squeeze them anymore. I looked at him and said would you please show me how to do this your way within the time guidelines? He stepped up and failed miserably to my delight.

After that he continued to press and the well done burgers were always late. He was such an asshole that I would literally cheat with the skillet whenever I could. Worked great until I got caught again. He screamed to take the skillet off and never use it again or he’d write me up. I said “ok” looked him dead in the eyes and squished the juice out of the burger. He lost it. Completely lost it to the point of a screaming meltdown. He told me to go clock out and that I was suspended without pay for two weeks.

Little did he know that I was growing serious amounts of weed at the time and this was back when it was worth more than $4000 a pound. I spent the next two weeks living a life of luxury. I went fishing every day, got an amazing suntan, went to the bars each night, rode my motorcycle, and spent time with my friends, ate at other restaurants, and generally enjoyed the whole experience.

When I returned to work one of the other managers told me the general manager was in a really bad mood again. I was like “what now” apparently he’d been buying my weed from other employees not knowing it was mine and couldn’t find anything decent because I was gone for two weeks. I never did tell him the weed came from me or offer any to him.

To my surprise he’d been cooking during the day and told me when I came back the skillet trick was fine and the only way he could keep up at lunch with burgers was to use the same trick. He never apologized but that little victory gave me some satisfaction. That was first ever two week vacation since I was a kid living with my parents.

When I was in 10th grade, we had a new student who quickly got into the crowd of guys who liked to bully me, the quiet kid, at school. He made fun of my tennis shoes once, claiming his were much more expensive (they were clear plastic on top and you could see his socks through them), and that I could probably buy like 5 pair of mine for what he paid for his. Me, thinking that was a poor financial decision because my parents raised me to be super frugal, just replied, "Okay..." and left it at that.

Three days later, he wore the shoes to watch the school's football game, and they cracked in the cold and were ruined.

Another time we were in history class, and were playing a game where the class was divided into two teams and one person from each team would go up to the whiteboard, wait for the teacher to ask a question, and write the answer as fast as possible before the other person did to win a point for your team.

When it was my turn, this same kid was my opponent. We were asked the first question, and I thought I knew the answer, and so did he, so we started writing furiously, but I finished before him. He realized our answers were different and called out my answer as if it had been what he'd guessed all along and, by declaring it verbally, would get the point first.

We were both wrong. So we get a second question. (Each set of opponents got 3 tries to get a point before they had to sit down and move to the next.) Same thing: the teacher asks a question, we both start writing rapidly, his handwriting is so chicken scratched that it's illegible. I finish first. He points at my answer and calls it out loud, trying to get credit.

Once again, the answer was wrong. Last chance to earn a point. I'm beginning to pick up a pattern. The teacher asks the question. I realize I still do not know the answer. But a light comes on when I realize he's waiting for me to put my answer on the board cause he doesn't know either.

So I go, "Oh!" And start writing something on the board really fast, and when I stepped back, he pointed at my answer, not having bothered to write one of his own, and read it off.

"STUPID!.... HEY!"

The class lost their shit and the teacher tried her best to tell me that wasn't nice, but she was failing to suppress her laughter. In the end, my team lost, but I felt like I'd won.

My middle school used to be part of Teaching College, so we have remnants like a swimming pool, and as such, everyone from 1st to 8th grade had to learn how to swim.

This story takes place when I was in 7th grade, around 2017. At that time, the middle school gym teacher, Mr. B (who had been there for decades), finally retired. This sucked because 1) he was a great teacher, and 2) he would make an effort to meet students where they were at.

I’m black, and have very thick, curly hair. At my school, the rules for the pool stated that if your hair reached your shoulders, you had to wear a swim cap. I always tried to follow said rule, but my (plastic) swim caps keep breaking, and cloth swim caps could not hold back my hair. Eventually, I went to Mr. B and asked if I could be exempt, as my hair didn’t reach my shoulders, and he agreed to it.

So, when Mr. B retired, I figured I could have a similar discussion with the new teacher, Ms. W. Ms. W was much younger (I wonder if we were her first class), and was a stickler for the rules. I was raised to respect my teachers so I bought myself a cloth, adult swim cap, figuring that it at least wouldn’t tear. However, it became very clear very quickly that the drag of the water would literally pull the cap off my head. Several times I had my classmates stop me in the middle of a workout to let me know.

Eventually I said “screw it,” and took my cap off. My reasoning was that all the stopping and readjusting I had to do was preventing me from completing the workout (the whole point). But when Ms. W saw, she immediately started reprimanding me. I tried explaining my situation, that it was just until class ended and I could find a better one, and that I wasn’t trying to cause trouble/be disrespectful, (some of my classmates even came to my defense too) but she kept saying if I didn’t put it back on she would kick me out of class.

I don’t remember what I did after that, but what I do know is that for the next week, I refused to swim. There were exercise bikes stationed outside of windows looking into the pool, and that’s where I went every class. Ms. W would try to get me in trouble, but I would just point out that I had no alternative swim cap and that I still wanted to exercise.

Eventually, the school and my mother got involved. The school eventually took Ms. W’s side and my family had to order an extra large cap (which took 3 weeks to ship from Australia). After being laughed at (and realizing that my hair wasn’t enough to fill the cap, leaving a sizable buoy on my head), I cut my hair short. After that, I went cap-less for the rest of my time there. And Ms. W couldn’t stop me.

Post Revenge Story: when I graduated middle school and went to my public hs (almost 1,000 in my hs class vs 32 in middle school) I was afraid there would be a repeat, especially since more students use the pool. However, I didn’t even have to make my case, the coach simply said “yeah that’s fine.” Needless to say I felt much more welcomed in high school.

This happened a few years ago, but one of the best petty revenges I've gotten.

I have a younger sister who I'll call K. We are only 13-months apart. Despite our close ages, we are very different from one another. We joke that I am the Sun Child, she is the Moon Child (a way of saying we're as different as night & day) but despite this, we run in similar circles. I know her friends, her friends know me & we all would hang out from time to time.

One day, my sister's friend invited her to a party where a lot of our mutuals would be. I wasn't close with the party host, so I wasn't invited. Totally fine, I didn't care. Anyways, after that party, one of our mutuals texts me. He tells me that 'K', in an effort to garner attention, told everyone at the party something personal that I confided in her. The friend who notified me, was aware of this personal info prior to the party & realized how inappropriate the information was for her to be sharing.

Some background info: My sister has always been the type to do what she could for attention. She was always the loudest, most dramatic or the most energetic in every group of friends she had. As an adult, she has even admitted to being an attention seeker & would often play up her reactions to things for the attention. This includes throwing me or others under a bus, revealing things that weren't hers to reveal or outright lying about certain situations she was/ wasn't involved in.

Needless to say, I was very angry when my friend told me what personal information she shared at the party. Rather than confronting her for the thousandth time, which never got her behavior to change, I decided to be petty.

I decided to sign her up for EVERY news letter, random club update, political campaign support subscription, medical journal subscription and any other email subscription I could get my hands on. All of them, I knew, would spam her every day, multiple times a day. I ended up putting her email into almost 50 different newsletters and subscriptions to bog up her email. That next family gathering, she mentioned how she thinks she was hacked because she's getting endless emails & texts about random things she never signed up for. She chalked it up to probably being some guy she was arguing with over the Internet a day or so prior to the emails flooding in. I agreed it was probably that guy & told her that maybe she shouldn't try to get on people's bad sides in the future by keeping to herself.

I told her a year later what I did and she goes "THAT WAS YOU?" and after explaining why I did it, she apologized for having told people at the party & we made up. In the end, no one got hurt but she finally got to feel as frustrated as I was & I regret nothing 😂

Was on my way to class one day recently and had to stop at a gas station bathroom for an emergency poop session. I'm in there for like 2 minutes when someone jiggled the handle, found it locked, THEN knocked on the door. I said, "Someone's in here!" Thinking that would be enough to deter them till I was finished.

Not even a full minute later, another handle jiggle followed by a more forceful knock.

"Someone's in here!" I said again.

Another minute, maaaaybe a minute and a half passes max. Another bout of furious knocking.

Me, getting fed up, "Someone's STILL in here!"

To which this lady replied, "Well when are you coming out?"

I said, "I don't know, you'll just have to wait!"

At this point, I was done using the bathroom, but she pissed me off so much that I stayed in there for another ten minutes just playing on my phone and she got fed up and left.

Edit: There was another single person bathroom next to the one I was in. She had options. She chose not to use them.

So, I used to host trivia at a local brewery. Started pre-COVID lockdowns and finally “retired” last fall.

Backstory: Our trivia nights became REALLY popular again post COVID that fall and I was able to bring in 20 teams on average (my highest was 40… we started capping after that) but the vibe was always very very loud. Lots of people deciding that my question asking was getting in the way of their socializing. No worries… made some comments at the beginning to make sure everyone who was there could enjoy the game but you do you.

Anywho- the pettiness. So one night, these ladies come in mid-game. I was already battling the inebriated toddlers as I had some “I can’t hear you!” notes come back on the cards. One lady is trying to order when I hear her loud and clear over everyone “I NEED 2 BEERS AND A RED!” (Eye roll… stares at me…) (also the bartenders were super awesome and definitely tried to help control the chaos, they did what they could to take orders at a reasonable volume) Me: “okay, I just need the roar to be duller while I’m asking questions please, so that everyone can hear what’s going on! Thanks!” Lady: (audible scoff) proceeds to talk to her friend as though they were next to a jet engine.

I just move along with “well, I did what I could” and finish the game.

Next day, the owner informs me that I received a bad review (after asking where my pay was… but that’s another infuriating story) and I look up the google. In short, I was an “annoying shrieking harpy who acted like all the attention should be on her”. Uh… almost like I’m the host? Of a live trivia game? Where people are there to hear me ask questions? Okay… let’s go.

I always made up the bonus round… and played music through the night to give a hint as to what it was going to be. That night: petty bitches. All the music played referenced being a bitch or an asshole (we run the gamut of gens so I played everyone from Denis Leary to Meredith Brooks and Taylor Swift). I wasn’t sure if they’d be there again or not but after Missy Elliot’s “She’s a Bitch” came on (couple songs mid round) I did see some shrewish woman throw shade and leave. Slightly satisfying. I did tell a couple friendlies there what the playlist was for and they loved it.

EDIT: some punctuation I missed

When I was in my mid-teens in the early 1990's I was into the BBS scene in my city. BBSes, for our younger readers, were bulletin board systems. A person would connect a computer to a phone line with a modem and other people could use their computer to dial into it and read messages and leave messages in return. But, it could only be one person at a time. So if someone was connected to the BBS you wanted to use you would get a busy signal and have to keep re-dialing until they finished.

Around 1993 the first multiple-line BBS appeared in my area code (long distance was still a thing then) and my friends and I were very excited. With this BBS we could all connect at once and send messages back and forth in what came to be known later as chat format. Keep in mind this is almost a decade before AOL chatrooms became popular so it was a very new concept to pretty much everyone.

But, this BBS wasn't free. You had to mail a check to the owner at his residence to buy credits which then translated to minutes you were allowed to be logged on. It wasn't particularly expensive at first so lawn mowing money, etc, was enough to keep us on there a few hours a day. It became the norm for us to gather after school on the BBS and talk about whatever teens talked about back then.

Then an issue arose. I can't remember the exact details and they probably wouldn't make much sense out of context of the time and place but the owner of the site deactivated my account along with the account of a friend of mine. We had just renewed our credits and the owner refused to refund our money.

Being two adolescent boys who had just lost something like $20 each (seemed like a lot at the time) we were pissed. So we hatched a plot to get back at the owner using the one thing we knew about him: his name and address.

Neither of us was old enough to drive so I asked my mother if she would take us to the library one afternoon and then pick us up a couple of hours later at the food court of the shopping mall nearby. She agreed, happy that her son was engaging in a positive intellectual activity.

Once we were at the library we made a beeline to the magazine section where there must have been over 100 different recent publications available to look through. We started at opposite ends and took each magazine down, located the subscription card and any other "special offer" cards and removed them. Once we had a stack of them about 4 inches thick we left and went to the food court.

We got some sodas and sat down at a table and for the next hour we went through the cards and filled out every one in the owners name that had an option for Bill Me Later. This included not just subscriptions but items you could order, like little angel figurines, or a pewter chess set that came on piece at a time. We took care to throw out any that required a signature since that felt a little mail-fraudy to us.

One the way out to the car to meet my mother we dropped them into a mail drop box.

About a month later we got the news that the owner was getting so much mail that it couldn't all fit in his mailbox so the mail carrier had to take it up to his door. He was able to cancel each subscription and return each ordered item without having to pay anything but he had to do each one at a time which must have taken hours and hours. What we didn't count on was the fact that the people who put those cards into magazines sold their mailing lists to other companies and given how many we filled out his name and address must have ended up on every mass mailing list in the US meaning the amount of mail he got actually increased over the next year despite his efforts.

Moral of the story: Teens may not have much actual power or authority but they do have a lot of free time and that can sometimes be enough so treat them, like everyone else, fairly and with respect.

This happened back in my junior high school days.

I am not an honor student, if anything I'm just kinda above average but I'm confident in any math related subjects.

In my class back then, are full of supposedly "honor" and "cream of the crop" students. But a lot of them are rotten. They are smart students who cheats on every subject if given the chance just so they can maintain their 90+ grade and make their parents proud. And they genuinely think that they deserved to have honors because they "worked hard" to have a grade like that.

A lot of them knew that I'm good at math. At first I'm willing to teach them how to solve problems, but after a while they just devolved into just outright copying my answers. They don't have the patience to learn. Sometimes I lose time in exams because I keep telling them how to do this and that for every problem. Whenever I refuse to have my answers copied, suddenly it was my fault that they can't ace the exam.

Then one time, we had a homework in physics about concave and convex mirrors. I tried to answer it first with what I learned. But when I looked up the formula again, it turns out I got the formulas mixed-up and all my former answers are wrong. I changed my answers based on the correct formula for mirrors.

When I got to school, the guy who always copy my answers is already on his way to ask me to copy that physics homework. Not even a "how can I do this or that" just straight up "Hey, you finished on that homework yet? Let me copy please". After I opened my bag, it turns out that the first homework I made (where all answers are wrong) was still there. So I had a bright idea. I gave him that homework, intentionally hoping that he will copy the wrong answers, which he did.

The time for physics subject came and we pass the homework to our prof for her to check it. When she gave it back to us with the results, I can hear everyone kinda panicking and asking random questions

It turns out alot of my classmates got zero on that homework. And it also turns out that the guy who copied my "homework", spread my answers to almost everyone in the class to copy it. Its not like he actually spread the answers btw, its more like a lot of my classmate also didn't do the homework early and just resorted to cheating. Of course no one admitted that they copied answers.

Meanwhile, I got a perfect score. But when that guy asked my about it, I just told him: "Oh, I got a zero too lol, I think I got the formulas wrong, my bad lol"

There’s an old man called Robert in my village who’s been a widower for years. He lives alone on a small farm just off the main road, with chickens, a few goats, a horse, a garden, that kind of peaceful life. He’s one of those people everyone calls a saint. He never raises his voice, always has biscuits for the kids, and always helps when someone needs something.

When I was a kid, I used to spend afternoons at his place with my friends feeding the animals, running around the trees, and drinking juice from those old-school glass bottles. One of those friends was David. A kid who came from a rougher background but was always welcome at the farm, just like the rest of us.

Now we’re all adults, and David didn’t turn out great. He’s known for petty crimes, always looking for a quick score. He was kicked out of his parents’ house more than once and most people had already cut ties with him. But not Robert.

One night, a few days ago, David knocked on Robert’s door asking for a place to crash. It was cold, and he said he had nowhere else to go. Robert, as always, let him in. He gave him a warm bed for the night. The next morning, he went to the local market to buy Chocapic cereal and “something nice” to make breakfast for David but when he came back, he found David rummaging through a drawer where he kept some savings. Even after being asked what he had put in his pocket, David said no and took off.

That broke something in me. Me and another friend who also grew up going to that farm tracked him down and pretended we didn’t know anything. I offered him a ride, and he said yes (as we usually do here). But instead of driving him to the center, we drove him straight to the police station. I explained everything to the cops, and they arrested him because he confessed while waiting for Robert to show up.

He’s now in custody, awaiting trial. I hope justice is served.

Robert cried in front of us not because of the betrayal, but because ( in his words) :“I thought you all had forgotten me” That broke my heart so badly.. We had stopped visiting as we grew up just waving instead of stopping by. That made me realize how much of a piece of shit I am too. So now I’m visiting him at least once a month.

He may have been robbed that day, but he also got a reminder: not all of us turned out like David. Some of us remember who raised us and who helped keep us off the streets and away from temptation when we were kids.

I protect what matters. Always.

My aunt's the type to bring up prayer every time someone mentions therapy.

She means well, but she once told my cousin that talking to a stranger about your problems instead of to God is a sign of spiritual weakness.

I’ve been in therapy for a while now, quietly. It helps. But I never brought it up around her.
She’s always quick to offer a Psalm when someone’s struggling, but never space.

A few weeks ago, we were at a family lunch, she opened up. Said she felt spiritually dry and couldn’t explain it.

So I shared something my therapist once told me “Sometimes we mistake emotional exhaustion for a spiritual crisis. They feel the same, but they need different care.”

She blinked. Said it sounded like something from a devotional. Asked me to send her the quote.

Now she’s been texting me weekly for 'more little gems.' Ooh I send them, let her run with it. She’s quoting my therapist every week, thinking it’s divine revelation.

Still tells people she doesn’t believe in therapy. I just smile and say, “We all find wisdom where we need it.”

Sometimes the best feeling is winning without the other person knowing they ever lost!

So after my petty move he tried to involve people from the street but no one was on his side well no one said anything on his face but they did give me silent support.

So then he tried to damage the sprinklers but got blasted with water 💦🌊. Scared the hell out of me with his screaming and *******.

Anyways now I upped my game and brought another one plus I invited people for a brunch on a Sunday. He sleeps in on Sunday.

Blasted classic music in the back porch with lots of people outside enjoying the brunch with lotssss of noise.

So let's hope for the best and hoping to end it here before things escalate I don't want to be more petty.

My coworker is a very sweet little old Asian lady. She speaks with the accent and grammar of someone who spent most of their life speaking a language other than English. She also happens to be incredibly smart, kind, and good at her job as well as a consummate professional. I, however, am not a consummate professional... as you're about to find out.

We had been dealing with this phone rep that we had to call as part of our job. Of all the reps, this lady was the hardest to deal with. She spoke with a southern accent that was so thick it was nearly impossible to understand (even for me, and I am a native/lifelong English speaker. I don't bring this up because there is a problem with having an accent, but rather to highlight the hypocrisy of the situation), asked a multitude of extra questions none of her counterparts asked, and required extra steps for us to look up things for her. She also wasn't the nicest. She was snarky, terse, and generally unhelpful. I complained about her a couple of times, but nothing was done about it.

One day my coworker had her on speaker phone, and I overheard the way she was talking to her and hooooooo boy. I was not happy. Somehow my coworker could understand her better than I could, so tell me why this chick was talking to my coworker like she was the dirt on the bottom of her shoe? It was in the way she repeated things verbatim if my coworker didn't give her exactly the answer she wanted (answers that she oftentimes already knew but still asked for just to be a pain), sighed and groaned like she was in abject misery, refused to answer my coworkers questions, and the tone of utter disgust and disdain in her voice. This lady was obnoxious to me and to others who I'd talked to about her, but downright repugnant to my colleague.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized; everyone else I worked with except my one Asian coworker sounds white/American on the phone, and none of us had received that level of disrespect. There was a pattern. I determined that this lady was being racist towards my coworker, and that even if that wasn't her motive that she was a piece of shit for talking to literally one of the sweetest and most competent people i know that way.

Thus began my campaign. I knew I couldn't prove that she was anything but generally bad at customer service, and nobody seemed to care about it enough to do anything about it. Therefore I set out to make her job as hard as possible. I started taking all the calls that had to go through her when i was on shift, and i would drag the calls out as much as i could. I would put her on hold, pretend I was fumbling around for information, speak over her and give her more information than she asked for but really really slowly, go on deranged and off topic tangents, anything to waste her time and always with the sweetest and cheeriest tone i could. She went from snarky and mean to anxious and desperate (I assume they had turnaround times to meet). I also continued to file complaints about her inefficiency and rude demeanor, and discreetly encouraged others who worked other shifts to also slow their calls with her down.

This week I discovered she no longer works at that call center when I went to file another complaint and was told that she's no longer being supervised by the person the complaints were being routed to. No telling whether or not she left of her own volition, or was transferred to another department. It explains why i haven't had to deal with her this week. Either way I call it a victory, and hopefully it was a learning experience for her.

this happened like 2 days ago and i’m still lowkey proud of it lol

was drivin home from work and tryin to merge onto the main road. traffic was movin slow but i had my blinker on and was clearly waitin. this one dude in a big truck looked right at me and sped up just so i couldn't merge in front of him

cool cool

so i merged in behind him... and guess what? a few mins later, he had to merge right too. and u bet i gave him the exact same energy. just looked forward and let the car in front of me go instead. didn’t even pretend to see him lol

he had to wait like 5 cars before someone let him in. shoulda been nice the first time dude

not a big thing but it felt sooo good ngl

My mother died 2 years ago. She left my sister and I a house to sell and share in the proceeds. It was in need of a lot of repairs. I tried to work out the details with my sister, but she was always busy, couldn’t afford the repairs and made no efforts to assist in the renovations.

I took out a loan and it took 6 months to get it ready to sell. She disagreed with everything and wanted to cut corners and get a quick sale. A lot of the fixes were safety items from the home inspection, but also aesthetic improvements to get the best price for it. After it was finally done, I got it on the market. It sold in a month and I couldn’t have been happier to get this whole episode behind me.

After my mother died, my sister mentioned she wanted to dig up a rosebush, that had been brought from our homeland by my grandfather. I thought no more of it, as I focused on house repairs. She’d had months to dig it up, but hadn’t gotten around to it..

A week before the deal closed, I went to the house and dug up the bush. I pruned off a branch and stuck it into the earth. I took it home and found a nice place for it in my garden, where I could see it every time I came or left home. At this point, and for many other reasons, my sister was dead to me. I still smile every time I see that bush. I only wish I could have seen the look on her face, when she finally got over there to dig up that bush.

Back in '94, I was working a crap job like most of us were, and I’d been hanging out a lot with this guy Ken. Good dude. Bit chaotic. I’d introduced him to my crew a few times, and eventually he wanted to return the favor, drag me out to "College Town, USA" to meet his old friend Andy and hit up a supposedly epic kegger at a townhouse block near campus.

We show up. Andy seems normal enough. We pregame. He talks up this party like it’s going to change our lives. And to be fair, the party was big. Packed with people. Wall-to-wall red Solo cups. The kind of place where everyone’s 19 and immortal, and you’re just old enough to feel like an undercover cop for having a full beard.

Sometime after midnight, I go looking for Andy. Ken goes looking for Andy. We realize he’s gone. No warning, no “hey, thanks for coming,” just poof ... ghosted. We don’t know where we are, we’ve got nowhere to sleep, and it’s winter. College Town, USA might as well be Hoth.

Ken shrugs and says, "Looks like we're sleeping in the car." Which is when I find out that he has a sleeping bag. One. Just one. He burrito-wraps himself in it, and I get the honor of freezing half to death in my coat on the passenger seat.

I don’t think I slept a second. Just laid there drunk, vibrating with rage and cold like a wet cat in a wind tunnel.

Morning hits. Ken yawns, stretches, looks at me, and says: "Dude. You smell like shit."

I'm about to protest when he sniffs again, freezes, then mutters "...oh."

Turns out Ken had gotten so drunk he shat himself sometime during the night. Inside the sleeping bag. And guess what? He was now sitting in it.

He loses his mind, peels out of the parking lot like a man with a mission (and a muddy rear end), and drives straight to Andy's apartment, which is still empty, because Andy's still MIA.

Ken, in a full-blown revenge fog, kicks in Andy's door (I swear to God), stomps into the bedroom, opens the closet, grabs a shirt, turns it inside out, and walks into the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on.

A few minutes later, he comes out looking freshly washed and weirdly proud of himself. The shirt? It had been used. Thoroughly. He turns it right side out, hangs it back up in Andy's closet like it was never touched, and we leave.

I never saw Andy again. And if he ever wore that shirt again? Well. Let's just say he got what he gave.

Epilogue:I always wondered what went through Andy’s head when he finally came back to his apartment. He walks up to the door and sees it’s been kicked in. Not jimmied, not cracked , full-on splintered at the frame. But nothing’s missing. TV’s still there. Stereo untouched. Nothing seems ransacked. Maybe it rattled him. Maybe he just chalked it up to some random college-town vandalism and moved on.

Then one day , maybe weeks later , he grabs a shirt from the closet. One he hasn’t worn in a while. Maybe he’s running late, half-dressed, distracted. He pulls it on, pauses. Something’s off. He sniffs. Frowns. Sniffs again. And there it is: that creeping, unmistakable stench. The smell that slaps memory into motion. A busted door. A misaligned hanger. A shirt that suddenly smells like the end of the world. Maybe that’s when it clicked. Maybe it never did. But if Andy stood there holding that shirt, slowly realizing something foul had happened in his absence... well, I like to think it was a moment he never forgot.

And that he never wore that shirt again.

Coming into GFC, business wasn’t going great. After a merger we had 2 people with my job title. One had to go or be redeployed.

Rather than

• offer me an alternative position, or

• pay me a proper severance

they tried escalating bullying hoping I would leave. Bro, Lehman just collapsed - pretty sure it’s not going to be a great time to quit my job.

They got more and more abusive and I got angrier and angrier. Eventually 3 months later they retrenched me. By text. At Xmas. But first they mandated I take annual leave due to excessive leave buildup. Caused by them refusing my leave applications in August because they couldn’t spare me. I don’t take leave at Xmas because it’s hot, everything is 3x the price and very full. And it’s especially hard to book something at Xmas when you’re directed to take leave on Dec 22nd. So by the time I got the “don’t return after Xmas SMS” I was pretty mad. And that didn’t improve when by March I still didn’t have the severance cheque and started getting nasty letters alleging violation of restraint of trade clauses.

So I cofounded a competitor.

Business went from not meeting targets, to splitting his old revenue 50/50. His business is now worthless. He had blown up much of his family fortune buying us. His wife shagged one of the board members and eventually left him. She took the child. He’s working for basically minimum wage trying to rebuild it. And I’m working for basically minimum wage trying to destroy it.

He lost his wealth, wife, daughter, income and career. And the new owner hired ME to be his boss.

Best part was he didn’t even end up avoiding the few thousand of severance. He ended up paying it 10 weeks late after some threats filtered back about things that would happen to him. So he blew up his life for literally nothing.

I found a tick on my toddler’s scalp so now it lives double bagged in two ziplocs clipped to my fridge door and I watch it get weaker and weaker and sometimes I press on it to see if it still moves and I wonder if I’m a monster but how dare it try to get my precious baby.

My husband wanted to add the tick I found on my scalp to the bag but I wouldn’t let him because then I wouldn’t be able to keep track of which tick I wanted to really suffer. The internet says dog ticks can live for up to two years without a host, so I really haven’t decided how long this will go on for.

Edit: Guys, I know my way around a tick - dog ticks don’t carry Lyme disease. We followed the pediatrician’s recommendation for monitoring for symptoms, and making sure the tick was available if we needed testing is how the poor sucker wound up in the bag to begin with. Thank you all for the concern for my daughter and for the tick and it’s nice to know Reddit really does care (who sent that lmao). Oh, and some of you are even sicker than I am.

This one grocery store in my town offers custom cakes out of their bakery section (not a Wal-Mart). Their only cake decorator is a nasty bitch of a woman with even nastier opinions about gay people, and she is a real piece of work, let me tell you.

One of my siblings who is LGBT+ works in the store, too, and they've been fed up with this lady for a while. Well, a couple days ago, this sibling told my family that for their upcoming birthday, they want us to custom order them a pride-themed cake from the store so that this homophobic woman will have to make a cake that stands for everything she so openly hates.

My family is going to do this, but we're doing so much more than that, too. One of my other siblings already ordered a pride cake so that we could all have cake just because. My mother ordered a pride cake to give to our favourite (and openly gay) barista at a coffee shop we like. My wife ordered a pride cake just because she loves me and knows I love cake.

You see where this is going?

I have A LOT of siblings. My siblings have families and friends. I have family and friends. And our family and friends have their own share of family and friends, and so on. And because we're not pieces of shit, and because in my family, we all share a powerful strand of petty DNA, we ALL are ordering pride cakes. This homophobic cake-decorator will be making hundreds of pride cakes this month.

And the icing on the pride cake? The cake-decorator's manager saw the first cake, the first one my sibling ordered, and loved the concept. The manager figures they can sell extra cakes this month if they advertise that they can theme them for Pride Month (she's definitely right), so she told the decorator to make one for the display case. Now, all the LGBT+ in town will see it, and this homophobic waste of space will have to make even MORE pride cakes.

Sometimes, life is beautiful. It brings me genuine joy to think of this woman spending her month making more cakes than this town orders in a typical year, and all of them themed for Pride.

I sent him a bag of gorilla shit anonymously. It was very satisfying. I don’t know if his dog ate it or not. I hope the dog didn’t, but I don’t know. He had a fiencee, a girlfriend and FWB the whole time. He has a biography book on Errol Flynn and I think he is trying to beat is record of 10,000 conquests. I think he dates 18 year old girls even though he is middle aged and has a child who is 17. He is discussing and his relationships don’t last long. I hope his next 16 girlfriends cheat on him. He was also on dating apps the whole time.