Revenge Stories That Escalated Way Faster Than Expected

“In the 1980s two airlines ran a shuttle service between Edmonton Municipal Airport and Calgary International. They were located at opposite ends of the Calgary Airport.

Background long: Pacific Western Airlines and Time Air ran a shuttle service between Edmonton Municipal Airport, close to downtown, and the Calgary International Airport. PWA had 737s and maybe 20-25 shuttle flights a day. Time Air had Dash 8 turboprops and a lot fewer flights per day. At this particular time, the Calgary Airport was undergoing a lot of renovations. Due to construction, the PWA shuttle service check-in and the Time Air check-in counters were at the opposite end of the Calgary terminal building.

Cast: Me, Jerk, TA – Ticket Agent

I turned the corner into the PWA shuttle check-in, and I have never seen the space so crowded with passengers.

It soon became obvious that the 6 p.m. flight I was booked on was canceled. The jerk in front of me gets to the counter, has some kind of noisy back-and-forth with the TA, and loudly yells that he is going to be getting a seat on the competitor, and he storms off.

Me to TA: What a jerk.

TA: Tiredly smiles.

Me: Let me guess. Time Air (the competitor) is fully booked this evening. So he is going to be stomping all the way to the other end of the airport and then back again?

We exchanged evil smiles.

TA books me on the 9 o’clock flight. I ran into somebody I knew, so we had a nice leisurely supper at the airport hotel, and I caught my 9 p.m.

flight back to Edmonton.”

“So just about a month ago, my father started taking away my phone because I was staying up a bit too late, and the cut-off is 9:30. That’s not too late around here, so I had to think of a plan.

When scrolling through the apps on my phone while bored, I remembered the Shortcuts app that was added in the iOS 14 update. I also remembered that you could make an automation to work on one’s phone.

After about 20 minutes of trial and error, I had it: an automation that would rick-roll anyone in its vicinity with a simple Do Not Disturb switch.

When it turned off (this happens after my wake alarm), everything would start at the highest volume my phone could project. This was going to be great.

I put my phone in my father’s room as expected and waited. The next morning, he didn’t seem too happy about waking up so early, but I was grinning from ear to ear.

This worked for about a week before he tracked it down to me (I’m the most tech-savvy in the family, so I guess that makes sense). That was just the amount of time I needed, though.

He gave me my phone back and increased the cut-off to 11.

Great.”

“For my birthday, my partner bought me a digital copy of Cyberpunk2077 for my Xbox. There’s a feature on Xbox where you can game share, and my older brother was interested in playing the game, so my partner bought it on his account, and then he game shared it with me. Well, a couple of days later, he starts throwing a fit. He’s one of those gross neckbeards who live in garbage and never clean their room.

Well, he was throwing a fit because my mom went in and cleaned his room for him, and he couldn’t find some of his stuff. I made a comment that maybe he should clean his own room like the adult he is. He then threatened to break my jaw. He always threatens me like this, and I know he would never do that, but it still hurts to hear your own brother say that to you, right after you share a game with him. So, while he was at work, I hopped on his Xbox, refunded the game, and then bought it back on my account. He came home and threw another fit about it. All I said was that maybe he shouldn’t threaten his younger brother.”

“So I (17F) was with a partner (15M), and things were pretty decent. Nothing too serious since we were in high school at the time, but I respected him and the relationship. Someone I was friends with basically told me he was being unfaithful with one of her friends, and she had proof. I mean, like pictures of them kissing and graphic texts. In one of the pictures, he was wearing a shirt I had bought him.

Anyway, I confronted him about it, and he got all emotional. I ended it with him, but he said he would do anything to get back with me.

I was hurt, but petty, so I agreed under one condition. He had to explain to my dad and sister what he did to me (the unfaithfulness) and ask for their forgiveness for what he did. He actually followed through and confessed to my family. He looked horrified, since my dad got angry and asked what the heck was wrong with him. My family was obviously angry, but I reassured him that we could move on and that it would be great.

After that, I went along with it for like a day or two. He assumed everything would go back to normal, and I led him on to believe this.

Then I cut it off. I fully blocked him and everything. I was young, but not stupid, and he was unfaithful after like 6 months together, so there was no way for things to work out. It wasn’t even worth it. But I felt like I got my revenge, so I moved on pretty quickly, and he learned a lesson.”

“So, this was back in late May of 1999. Nineteen-year-old me was working at a 24-hour truck stop right off the interstate highway in a tiny town of about 1,200 people. Our system was archaic, with analog diesel pumps; every pump, even gas, had to be manually authorized—even pay at the pump—and, being a 24-hour station, no one but the owner and manager had keys to the door.

My parents had recently divorced, and my dad had moved 11 hours away to West Texas to be closer to his brothers and sisters.

Dad was supposed to have my sisters for the summer, and he and Mom had agreed to meet halfway. I figured it would be nice to see him for a few days, so I decided to just take my sisters to Dad’s house; no driving for him or Mom, and I’d get to visit for a couple of days. I told my manager what was up, that I was leaving directly after my 7-to-3 shift on Friday and would need the time off until Wednesday when I could report for my normal 7-to-3 shift, and she approved my leave.

On Friday around 2:30, the manager called to let me know that the 3-to-11 person had called in and no one could cover on such short notice, so I would have to work a double.

I reminded her of my 11-hour drive and that I wouldn’t be able to work the shift, and reminded her that it was her responsibility to cover in instances like this and that I would be leaving at 3. I was informed that she was doing her job by having me fill in, and she then hung up on me.

Well, 3 o’clock rolled around and no one was there but me, so I called the manager back and told her that I had to leave to take my sisters to Texas, and that I would give her an hour to get there—she lived about half an hour away—and that when 4 hit I was leaving regardless of store coverage.

She told me that if I left, I should consider myself fired, and then she hung up on me again.

Okay, I hate this job anyway.

At 4 p.m., no one showed up to cover the shift, so I left. Now we have a fully stocked gas station with a deli, unlocked and with no employees, with a full till. I couldn’t count my drawer because I didn’t have access to the program, and screw this place.

From what I was told, several people came in, started their pumps, and actually paid for their gas by sliding money in the slots on the till drawer; others didn’t pay at all, including a couple of semis because they needed to pay with Qualcomm; several people took food from the deli freezer, as well as other merchandise and cash stolen to the grand total of somewhere around $5,000 USD.

Someone who knew the manager personally called her to let her know that the store was unmanned.

The manager tried calling me at home, but Mom told her I was on my way to Texas and didn’t have a cell.

The manager had taken an impromptu trip to Branson, which had to be cut short, and she arrived at about 3 a.m. to a ransacked store, an empty till, and a half-full commercial stand-up freezer with a bunch of wasted food because someone had left the door open.

The owner called my house to talk to me, and after finding out where I was, he requested to talk to me as soon as I got back.

I never called him back.”

“So I live next door to a bowling alley. So close, in fact, that we share a parking lot. It’s their parking lot, but the owners, whom I’ve come very close to, allow us and the people who come to my house to use their property for parking. Now, my neighbors across the street, also nice people, have an insanely steep gravel driveway and have landscapers smooth and fill the driveway to make it easily traversable. Here’s my issue: The landscapers block my gate and every parking spot along my fence every single time they come instead of, you know, actually parking in a parking spot.

I can understand the trailer and whatnot, but not your dump trucks and employee transportation vehicles. Especially since it would actually make more sense to load the dump trucks from a parking spot where there’s more room.

So today, when I got home from work, guess who was parked by my house: the landscapers. So I promptly and carefully parked my car in my usual parking spot, right in between their trailer and dump truck. The only way they will be able to load equipment onto the trailer is to drive completely out of the parking lot, go down the road to the park, turn around there, and come back.

All I have to do is simply wait for them to finish work so I can watch this take place.”

“Shortly after graduating from high school, I got a job working as a waitress at a local restaurant. It was a pretty popular place, but it really boomed during the holiday season.

A few days before Christmas, a woman came in wanting to pay for and pick up a phone order. Now, to be clear… There were 7 pages of takeout orders. Each page had about 10 to 13 orders. I asked for the name on the order, and she gave me 3 (saying that she wasn’t sure who placed the order and she’s just in charge of picking it up).

I looked through each page and found a few matches. None were the correct order, though. As I reached the last page, I told her that we didn’t have any more orders with those names and asked if there was another that it might be under.

At this point, she was visibly annoyed and gave me another 2 that it might be under. I scrolled back to the first page and started searching again. I found another match, but again… It was the wrong order. Now, she was actually angry.

The conversation went something like this:

Me- “I’m so sorry. We don’t have any more matches for those names.”

Her- “Well, it’s got to be one of them!

I don’t know why this is so hard for you!”

Me- “Maybe it would be easier to search for the order itself. What exactly are you picking up?”

Her- “How am I supposed to know that? I didn’t place the order. It’s your job to check me out and just get it to me! Why is this so hard for you?”

Me- “Well, unless there is another name to search for, I’m not sure what else I can do for you… There were about 75 orders placed for this weekend, and I don’t have any other way to know which is yours.”

Her- “Are you freaking kidding me?

It shouldn’t be this complicated. Are you stupid or something? You are working a register. It cannot be that hard.”

Me- “Okay… How about I read the names of each order, and you let me know when something sounds familiar? We can go through each order that way.”

Her- “Freaking fine! If that’s what you have to do to do your job, then just waste my darn time, I guess (then she muttered something under her breath, that I didn’t quite catch… She definitely used the “R-Word”, though).”

I got about halfway through the first page.

Me- “Company X?”

Her- “Yes!

That’s it!”

I smiled wide. A genuine and true smile, ear to ear.

Me- “Oh! Do you work at Company X?”

Her- “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. Now hurry up. This has taken way longer than it should have. Is it even ready yet?”

Me- “Do you know the owner? Mr. X?”

Her- “Yes… He is the one who organized the party. Why?”

Me- “That’s my dad” (smiling even wider than I thought possible). “I’ll have to tell him about this! What a small world!”

Her- (The color visibly draining from her face) “Your—”

Me- “Yup!

My dad! Who would have known! I’m actually going on my 30 when I’m done here. I’ll have to give him a call! I’m sure he’ll love to hear all about this.”

Before she had a chance to respond, I turned around to grab her food. I spent the rest of that transaction just positively glowing… basking in her silent panic before saying “Goodbye! Have a wonderful day! I’ll be sure to tell my dad that you said ‘hi’!”

It. Was. Beautiful.

I told my dad about it, and he was absolutely livid.

Mostly about the fact that she would dare to speak to someone in that way while actively representing the company.

He didn’t fire her, but she was given a severe warning and was put on probation… She didn’t last long, though. Less than 2 weeks later, she lost the company a pretty big client (by responding very rudely via email). Honestly… I may be biased… But I think that the company is better off without her.

WOW! I didn’t expect this to blow up like it has! Thank you to everyone for the comments and awards! I appreciate it, really.

A few people are doubting the legitimacy of my post… But it happened.

I swear on my cat (and I love my cat far more than I love a lot of the people that I know). However, it is still one of the craziest moments of my life (to date… almost 8 years later), so I really don’t blame you for not believing it.”

“A few years back, I had to miss a couple of weeks of school to go to my aunt’s funeral. She died painlessly from an asthma attack or something similar. She was the high school sweetheart of my dad’s identical twin, and they had been married for around 20 to 23 years with four kids. It was really sad, and it was the first time I had seen my dad and his twin cry.

Fast forward two weeks and we returned to school. The school contacted my parents, saying that they required proof that we went to my aunt’s funeral. My parents were not happy, so they sent the office a copy of the pamphlet outlining her funeral. It was one of the items that listed her name, date of birth/death, and had a big picture of our aunt on it.

We didn’t get any more flak from the school after that.”

“I absolutely despise my in-laws. They’re money grabbing monsters. Long story short, they nearly made my wife, my children, and me homeless a few years ago because of their own greed and see no issues with it.

Anyway, I come home after work and my wife has had a rubbish day, so I order a takeaway and we settle for a night of binge watching TV. Then I see it—my in-laws have profiles on our Netflix. I don’t even mention it, but I’m fuming.

Those thieving little craps can’t even cough up a few £ a month for Netflix. I talk to my friend about it. He laughs, and I rage more.

So I set their profiles and “kids” profiles so that they can’t watch anything with a higher rating than “U”. I also set a password on our profile so that they can’t go into the settings to change it.

I’m loving it, swaggering around, thinking I’m a champ, showing off my pettiness to the guys at work, and telling everyone and anyone who’d listen. They’ve asked my wife about it.

She changes it back, and I give it the whole “My goodness, how on earth has that happened? Must be a system error or something.” I change it back again. What a hero I am. I tell everyone a second time how I’ve effectively ruined their lives now that their viewing options are Paw Patrol and Noddy.

Turns out they’ve been sending my wife the money for Netflix for some time now. I’ve since changed the viewing settings back to standard.”

“My fiancé and I were rudely awakened to some really terrible “drill” music or whatever it’s called, blasting extremely loudly out of the neighbour’s house with all windows and doors open. This is in the UK and it’s a semi-detached house, so we’re the house connected to him. We go to the wall connected to their house, and I see a speaker I’ve never seen and try to connect. I need a code to connect, and guessing that the neighbour is brain dead from all the terrible substances he smokes, I guess he never changed it. I Googled the manual, got the default code, and what do you know? It connected somehow; his phone must’ve disconnected from it while his friend was round.

It started off easy with the USSR Anthem, Frozen, Village People.

I couldn’t hear it as much because he turned it down, but the satisfaction of knowing he’s listening to my music made it better than studio-quality headphones.”

“I guess this does require background for it to make sense. I (20F) have an amazing idea for revenge on my bio mom. While it’s going to be a lot, I feel it’s fair. In this account, my dad and bio mom are involved. They divorced when I was very young. I was around 3 years old, and almost every other week I was with my BM. By the time I was 5, she made a very poor choice in a man that resulted in me having to go through therapy for many MANY years.

Fast forward to now, she has been married to my enabler step dad (ESD for short) for several years.

When my dad and step mom were courting, they would fly me up there so it wasn’t as much of a toll on me (an hour and 45 minutes compared to 13 hours of driving), and they would reimburse her for half the plane ticket while she used that money to take my step siblings and half-brother on various trips, yet when I was there, we did nothing and I was forced to babysit. This went on for years, and my dad and SM felt like crap that my BM was like this.

My BM would always send me pictures and say stuff like “Wish you were here.” I could have been, but she blamed it on my having to go back so early for band camp and school. Through all of this, there were a lot of court fees from the time I was 3 till about 10, and my SM had been in my life since I was 5; if it weren’t for her, I’d be dealing with my jerk of a BM daily. H

ere is what I DREAM of doing. It’s just a matter of funding it: I want to go with several friends or family members to all the places she went without me and text her pictures and say something along the lines of “Wish you were here.” Another thing I plan on doing is talking to my SM and asking her to officially adopt me as her own kid (where I live, we have adult adoptions for things like this and my BM doesn’t even have to know), and I want to get a tattoo as a big middle finger to her (I already have a tattoo she’s fine with, but I am shooting for another one).

I am luckily able to see her social media (as she hasn’t blocked me), and I have on my page everything she posts that is not true (like how if anyone inappropriately assaulted her kids she would make sure the person went to jail, yet when I was little [5 y.o.] she tried to hide the guy) and whenever my SM adopts me I’m making it public, and I plan on tagging her and all her friends in it.

I only talk to her for my little brother because she’s a crap mom, and I feel bad I never see him because I’m not about to buy a plane ticket (when she has a camper and can come see me whenever). I feel this will finally bring me peace, in the sense that I get to watch all the lies she has told and built up crumble.”

“So my ex-partner and I once went on vacation and he had never been on a plane before. Our seats were separate because of late planning, and it was cheaper. I had a window seat somewhere, and he had an aisle seat. So I offered him mine. He happily accepted, and that’s that.

So on the plane back home, he actually had a window seat, and I had a middle seat. I asked him if we could trade seats so I could sit by the window. He told me no. It was his spot, and he wanted to sit there. I was kinda bummed, but okay. What do you know? Five minutes later, the stewardess came to ask me if I could change seats with someone upfront because of her crutches, as she wasn’t allowed to sit near an emergency exit. So, I got the seat in the front with no one beside me, next to a window and a crapton of extra leg space. My ex-partner came whining that he wanted to switch seats now. So I happily told him to screw off.

The relationship didn’t last very long after that.”

“So just to start off, this is a pretty old story I remembered from not long after I moved out to the backwater armpit of Satan we call Arizona, and it was instrumental in my parents not buying a house in a neighborhood with an HOA initially. I don’t think I’ve seen the story around this reddit yet, so I decided to post what I remember and what I was able to dig back up about the case. I’ll post a couple of old news articles about him at the end and what eventually happened to him.

Oh, and if anyone wants to use this or the links provided, have at it,

This part of the story takes place shortly before 2000. In my state, we have numerous retiree communities that are run by HOAs. The vast majority of them, in my experience as a Respite and habilitation provider, can be summarized simply as nearly full-on tyrannical in their inter-community politics, often targeting members “out of the clique” while heavily favoring those who fell in line. In this case, it all started with Richard and the new HOA board, henceforth abbreviated as NHB for convenience’s sake.

From what details I can remember, Richard had lived in his house in the community under the previous HOA board for close to ten years before a community mailbox was installed near his driveway.

He had also lined the borders of his house with row hedges. These two details will be important later.

However, around early 2000 a new HOA governing board was elected. By this time, many others had moved into the area and had begun parking in front of the aforementioned mailbox—many of whom, to my memory, were NHB board members. At first, Richard tried talking to the offending mailbox blockers who would obstruct his driveway. Eventually, however, he resorted to simply parking his car in front of the driveway and, by extension, the mailboxes. In retaliation, the NHB towed his car and invoiced Richard for it.

In addition, Richard was not the type to constantly preen and prune his hedges or keep the lawn well maintained.

As a result, the HOA began sending landscapers to trim them, and would naturally invoice him every time they did the work. Richard, both verbally and in writing, rudely requested that they not send the landscapers and denied them access to his house, but he was still invoiced for their being contracted and sent away. Eventually, as I remember, the NHB would send the landscapers to his home when he was away and then invoice him for the costs afterward.

Finally, having had enough, Richard ended up killing off his lawn and hedges to force the NHB to stop sending landscapers. But due to state laws and the NHB’s bylaws, they were able to sue for the cost of all the invoices sent over the course of nearly a year, and they managed to foreclose on Richard’s house for unpaid fees, forcing him to move out; he chose to relocate to California for a time.

With the events leading up to the nuclear revenge set in place, now we can discuss Richard’s revenge.

To my memory, Richard had been practically living out of a trailer for a little while, stewing over his treatment at the hands of his former NHB. He still owned a storage unit in Arizona, which contained his rifle and two semi-automatic handguns. That April, he returned to Arizona with one goal in mind: revenge. Richard’s former HOA held official meetings bi-yearly, with additional smaller meetings for emergencies or when voted to convene. Richard entered the NHB’s meeting with his weapons, firing and killing two board members outright, wounding one further, and injuring another during a scuffle with a man trying to wrestle his rifle away from him. When later questioned about why he committed the crime, his only response was “I was getting even.”

Later, Richard was sentenced to death for the murders. He passed away of natural causes while still on death row. In the end, as I recall, the HOA was disbanded for some time following the wake of the murders. They have since been reestablished, but from what I recall, they’ve been quite careful about whom they elect to the board.

And that’s the story as I remember it. Sorry if some details are a little vague, sparse, or slightly off; these events happened almost twenty years ago now, and I was fairly young at the time, having only been told the story later by my father and friends, along with a little side research of my own.

I thought that it might fit well on this subreddit. And as promised, here is some further reading about Glassel and the crime. Sorry if it’s a little sparse, but most information on him was in local papers and newsletters, and I’m having a hard time finding many of the old articles about him.”

“This concluded about three months ago. First off, let me say I have PTSD from two tours. This isn’t a brag or flex, but any vet with PTSD will vouch that it is very hard to let jerks walk away.

Because of this stupid crap, I can only really work jobs alone now. I’ve been working for a while cleaning stores after hours. (Not surface cleaning but checking areas where mice have been, etc. Dirty job, but the pay more than makes up for it.)

One day, I’m having some considerable back pain, so my wife, MIL, and SIL cover for me.

I receive a call a couple hours later from my wife complaining about the manager. Now, I’ve worked retail before and I know it sucks, so I tend to give some leeway when non-retail folks say someone’s being mean versus “not in the mood for crap.” I hear he yelled at them when they walked in that the store was closed. (Okay, buddy, they used a key; chill.) Then he got upset that he didn’t know there was a cleaning that day. (Crap, I wrote and distributed the schedule three weeks prior.) Then he tried to tell them where to clean. (I have a contract, and your employees’ duties aren’t included in it.) I rolled my eyes at the complaint, I admit it. Managers suck, and I didn’t think this was a big deal—just some incompetent GM. Then I receive a call a half hour later. The GM was making some gender-based jokes to his all-male staff (Hey, you, putting on your makeup? You need a tampon, etc.) while they were shutting down. Okay, that’s pretty tasteless, but for me it’s hearsay. Then I’m told that on his way out of the parking lot, they saw the GM try to open my car’s door.

I call the store the next day and ask to talk to the manager on duty. I have a pretty civil conversation, highlighting my concerns about the manager paying attention to his schedule and contracts.

I mentioned there was some witnessed unprofessionalism, but that’s not for me to correct. Mind you, the conversation is going very professionally up to this point. When I mention the car, the guy’s whole attitude changes. He gets very vocal and very defensive, cutting me off and raising his voice. Before I realize it, we are yelling at each other. I hang up and talk to my wife. I describe the guy based on his voice and accent, and my wife is certain that I’m speaking to the GM (I’ll call him E). I call back and simply say, “I want to know what authority you had to try to get in my car.” E starts to play dumb until I name the security company that patrols and monitors his lot (a shared lot with other businesses), and I can request footage through the police. E says he doesn’t have to explain himself to me and he hangs up. Oh screw no.

I call back a final time. I say, “If we can’t work this out, I have to get your boss involved.” “Fine, go ahead and call me when you do,” E hangs up.

Insert Revenge. I won’t go into how, but I will explain what happened over the next few weeks. (Remember, I have a key to this store and am still able to show up on contracted days.)

E’s handwritten statement about the argument goes missing. Not a huge loss; the thing was 90% lies to get ahead of what he did.

Find multiple disciplinary notes that all show that “Mr.

E” (as all of his employees seemed to call him) loved to write up all his employees for frivolous crap. This is a common tactic by weak managers as insurance for when employees complain about them. These also go missing.

A file is found with many complaints about the store and interactions between E and customers. Copies are made.

E’s business starts to get multiple one-star Google reviews from various accounts. Some of the reviewers post pictures of his store’s mouse infestation and products damaged by little teeth that he leaves on the shelf. Let me tell you, seeing mouse crap next to food does wonders for your Google page.

Two anonymous complaints to the city about the mouse infestation within the store, with pictures.

(None of which match the ones I sent to my bosses.)

One complaint to the city from “an employee” that cites a ton of safety violations within the store. Then mentions how bad the mouse infestation has gotten and that the city should inspect and make sure they ask for proof of an exterminator (there is none). Poor gal was begging. Her name even matched an employee’s name, fancy that.

Random occult symbols begin to appear in E’s work journal, hidden among things he had already written. (To clarify, this is because I could recall the symbols. The point wasn’t for the occult; it was so things would show up in his personal journal that he didn’t write.)

His boss’s boss (contact info hanging in office) received an email detailing his unprofessionalism, gender-based harassment, and attempt to get into a vehicle that wasn’t his.

I also mentioned how many violations I saw as I was cleaning (broken equipment, safety hazards, lack of proper cleaning supplies, chemicals over pet food, etc.). I even tried to compromise and said that if they could provide a policy that says he could check my vehicle without security or law enforcement, then I’d retract my complaint. Otherwise, for every scheduled cleaning that he is still there for, I’d cancel and send them a fee.

Suddenly, there is a shift in the store. I still go much later to avoid people, but it is much cleaner. There are even enough cleaning supplies for the store to function.

There are fewer passive-aggressive notes everywhere. Curious about it, I go into the office and see there is definitely a change. The complaint file has shrunk, and the office is cleaner. Whoever is the boss now sure seems like a nice lady.

E receives a text from a number he won’t be able to call back:
“Have you learned your lesson yet, (his full name)? Or do I need to take your next job from you too?”

The End.”

“This one is fresh and still unfolding, but it’s already hit an explosive level. Some details are intentionally vague. I’m a woman in my 30s with a reasonably good corporate-type job in a field with lots of room for growth, and I am recently back into the romance scene after a decade. I’m kind of a “would be a 10 if she lost 30 lbs” looking girl, with a beautiful face even if a bit chubby, but I never have issues getting a partner.

I’m not well off, but I’m stable and have a bit of spending money. I live in a large multicultural city, and my ex was an immigrant, so I’m open to meeting people of any origin.

If it wasn’t abundantly clear, this bit about my appearance is a joke and only speaks to his failure to select an appropriate victim. I don’t care what people think about how I look.

What happened: A few weeks ago, I met a very charming man from a Latin American country who is only a couple of years younger than me. He seemed very sweet, cuddly, intelligent, family oriented, emotionally available, educated, and in a good profession back home in his country, and he had a lot in common with me.

Chemistry seemed amazing both intimately and emotionally.

He was honest that he was in my country on a tourist visa but was hoping to stay. I made it clear I wouldn’t be able to help him with that, but we’d have a fun summer fling while he was here. If he managed to stay or come back, only then would we consider a real relationship.

Then the other shoe dropped. A couple of weeks in, during a text conversation about my work, he asked me to be his sugar mommy. I initially laughed and assumed it was a joke. He kept pushing and clearly said it wasn’t.

Of course, feeling insulted by this, I went off on him. He maintained it as a serious ask until I hit a nerve with my complaints about how embarrassed he should be to ask me that. Then he got angry and insulted me for thinking he was serious about it. No apology for being hurtful to me.

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

One of my friends started snooping more on his online presence.

Together, we found about six different Instagram accounts that were his, using different variations of his name and different photos of himself, all uploaded in batches. On social media, there was a similar pattern— all very scammy and suspicious-looking. He had been foolish enough on one of his profiles, though, to follow and tag the employer for whom he was working illegally on his tourist visa in my country. So I contacted another close friend in a local law enforcement agency that works with immigration. She looked up his file; he had a wife and daughter at home!

I released the hounds after that. The friend who helped me investigate online created several group chats on multiple platforms with all of his family (immediate and extended) and friends.

She released all the screenshots as well as a rant about how shameful it was. As they started blocking her, she added more people. I found his sister’s phone number, and she sent her messages there too. Everyone he knows, including his wife, now knows he’s unfaithful and trying to take advantage of women.

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

Next step? I filled out an online immigration reporting form with all the info we found—work info, employer name and address, his home address, full name, date of birth, photos, and screenshots admitting to working.

Usually these reports take months to be reviewed, if at all, but I gave the file number to my law enforcement friend. Two days later, law enforcement officers visited him at home. They found him with a phone number that was issued to a local resident. All his roommates also had numbers issued to the same person—a direct link to the employer.

He received a caution for trying to scam me, a no-contact order, and a flag on his immigration file that, based on his country of origin, will likely mean he can never return, as well as a strict warning not to work without authorization. His roommates also received warnings.

His employer received a visit next.

They found significant proof that they had been employing him illegally, as well as multiple other people. Their investigation is still ongoing, but so far, they are likely to receive tens of thousands in fines or possible jail time. The guy isn’t getting deported because the government would have to pay for i,t and proceedings take longer than his remaining visa time, but he’s now upgraded from a flagged file to a multi-year ban on reentry to my country. If he bothers me again, though, he will be deported as well.”

“For context, it was her cousin-in-law. Let’s start this story by saying this happened 12 years ago. I’m now happily married with three children and regret absolutely nothing.

I was with my new ex for 3 years. I had noticed that she was being extremely controlling. I was expected to give every little detail of my day and tell her my schedule in advance, and if I deviated from that, she would be very upset. She chalked it up to just bad feelings she was having and shrugged it off as her paranoia from past relationships involving infidelity.

I had never once been unfaithful or strayed, and I never gave her a reason to act in such a way. It felt unbecoming of my fiancée to behave like this.

Now this is where it gets juicy. After she had asked for my schedule to make plans—as mine tends to be more hectic than hers—I noticed she was texting someone. In my line of work, if I put in more than 40 hours, I have the ability to take time off at will as long as the work is completed at a later date. I was very good friends with a brother—and still am.

We laugh about this to this day, and he actively reminds her of it. I messaged him, stating I wanted to do something special for her a little bit earlier than our anniversary to make sure it was a special surprise. They both worked in the same fabrication facility. He was a fabricator and she a shipping manager. He was kind enough to let me know her schedule. That’s where the discrepancy falls into place. Without my knowledge, she was foregoing overtime; she worked 12-hour shifts Monday through Friday, with the exception of Wednesday, when she would only work half a day. She had been taking Wednesdays off right around the time that she started getting extremely controlling. Lucky for me, I had stacked several days of leisure time up, so taking a Wednesday off for me was not an issue. After a few days, Wednesday arrived. I put on my work gear and “leave” for work. I was expecting her to leave as our apartment complex had two exits on the same road—I could see directly across from a shopping center—so I parked my car near the back and waited.

After about an hour, I noticed a very specific red Mustang with a distinctive decal on the back window. It was her cousin by marriage. I had also done my due diligence by taking an old laptop, which we kept on our desk in an office area with a full view of the living room, bedroom door, bathroom, and the kitchen.

I had set it up for remote access and had it alert me when the webcam noticed movement. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I thought he might be dropping something off or coming over to assist her with something, as her family sometimes does. Sure enough, a message came through, so I remotely accessed my laptop. He walked through the door without skipping a beat. She unbuttoned his shirt and began kissing him. I created a URL link for the live stream. And as she was preoccupied, we had a family group text and a friend group text. Both were part of it, but at that time they were indisposed and didn’t look at their phones. They didn’t even wait; they could have gone to the bedroom, but no, they decided to get freaky deeky right there on the couch. I sent the link off to the friend group chat and the family group chat. Within minutes, I was receiving non-stop calls from friends and family alike. There was no turning back. She was getting bombarded with calls, but she was ignoring her phone. Not until the fourth or fifth call came through did they decide to take a break.

For context, the state I live in allows recording on personal property regardless of occupancy. I was the only one on the lease; she wasn’t allowed to be on the lease because of poor credit.

The call she picked up was from her cousin’s mother, with whom she was intimately involved.

She answered the phone on speaker, and I kid you not, the first words out of his mother’s mouth were, “Stop freaking my son.” They both became rigid, and she began to stutter over her words, saying, “What are you talking about?” The mother then divulged that there was a live feed of them sent out by me to her family. She grabbed every pillow off the couch and covered herself up. The cousin staggered off, trying to put on his pants and shoes, only to trip, banging his head against my coffee table and leaving a divot. By this time, I had made my way to the front of the apartment complex. I was there to greet the adulterer as he came out of the front exit. He froze and began to cry, apologizing profusely. I’m not going to lie; what happened afterwards wasn’t my best moment, and I nearly got into legal trouble if it weren’t for the fact that he was trespassing on private property. Let’s just say I had a cast for 6 weeks, and he wasn’t in any family photos for months.

I went up to the apartment, where she was now fully clothed and crying inconsolably. I asked her if it was snot or fluid on her face.

Then I told her not to answer because it didn’t matter anyway. I gave her 1 hour to remove all her belongings, as again, everything in the apartment was mine except for clothes, some makeup, and a few kitchen utensils.

Her mother would not let her move in, as she was just filled with embarrassment. The same went for her brothers, and the cousin’s mother kicked her son out. Rumor spread around our town very quickly, and for a lack of better words, she was untouchable.”

“I’ve wanted to tell this story for so long and I figured this was the perfect place. Apologize if the spelling and grammar aren’t amazing. I’ve written this out in one sitting and don’t have the energy to edit.

When I was about 10 years old, my dad got a new partner: Lauren. Lauren was an evil monster. When I first met her, she was lovely and friendly; I quickly liked her. But over the years, everything went downhill fast.

It started small.

Lauren would steal my things and then deny it. Of course, everyone believed her. She’d tell me that my dad loved her more than me and that, if she wanted to, she could click her fingers and he’d never see me again. She read my diary and then told everyone what I’d written. She reported me to the RSCPA for abusing my animals (I wasn’t). After a couple of years, she had my dad beating me (Yes, I know he was an adult with choices and I hold him just as responsible). She would constantly tell my dad how bad I was and encourage him to hurt me. After a while, he’d always snap and end up doing what she wanted. There are so many more things she did, but you get the picture.

My dad and Lauren separated when I was about 16 years old, but they still had a house together. It was around this time, as a  miserable teenager, that I decided I’d get even. I spent months planning, and this is what I did:

I wanted Lauren’s entire life to fall apart all at once, so everything had to be perfectly timed. I started by getting her fired and giving her a minor criminal record: Lauren worked at a police warehouse for seized items, but naughty Lauren was stealing from the warehouse.

So I made notes on what she stole and when. Once I had a decent enough list, I anonymously contacted her boss with my list. Lauren was immediately suspended. After a few weeks, she was found to be guilty of stealing. She was immediately fired and charged with theft, including theft of a class C substance.

Now Lauren was unemployed and pretty much unemployable. On to stage two: With Lauren having no income and being unable to pay her mortgage so that the house could be sold, my dad also wanted to sell so he could move in with his new partner. So, I made the house unsellable (and pretty unpleasant to live in).

My dad and Lauren were stupid and never locked their back door (I didn’t have keys), so I’d sneak in when I knew they were out and hide disgusting things: bugs everywhere, old prawns hidden under floorboards; I even stitched some old prawns into the bottom of the curtains. Dead mice everywhere, including under Lauren’s pillow. Live mice in the pantry. The house stank, and no one could figure out why. Estate agents refused to list it or would only list it for far under its value, and potential buyers would leave quickly after no one could explain the source of the vile smell.

Lauren was approaching bankruptcy, exactly what I wanted.

Only one area of her life was left to destroy. Lauren had been in a relationship for a year or so with this guy. I can’t even remember the poor guy’s name. We’ll call him John. Well, Lauren was being unfaithful to John and with his own father of all people. Poor John proposed to Lauren. He needed to know who she really was.

One day, when Lauren had John’s dad over, I got in the house via the unlocked back door. I grabbed her mobile, which she’d left in the kitchen (it took a few attempts and a lot of house watching to get lucky with the phone).

I texted John from her phone, pretending to be Lauren. I told him I was sick and asked him to come over. Of course, good old John rushed over. I unlocked the front door and texted him, letting him know to let himself in as I was in bed sick.

I left and hid around the area. The drama was intense. Lauren and John’s dad, half unclothed, were chasing after John in the street, screaming and crying. I think John might have even punched his dad before driving off.

Obviously, the relationship was over, and John’s dad even ditched her in an attempt to get his son’s forgiveness.

So, Lauren was alone, broke, unemployable, facing charges and about to be bankrupt.

Sadly, I don’t know how the story ends.

I cut contact with my dad around that time, and thus my connection to Lauren was gone. I do remember my dad mentioning her being depressed right before we stopped speaking, so in my eyes, my goal was achieved. I didn’t need to see the fallout anyway; just knowing what I’d achieved was more than enough for me.

And that’s the story of how I got revenge. Writing it out, I realize how unreal it sounds, but that’s the whole story.”

“I immediately have to write this down because it is the most amazing thing I have ever heard. I was visiting my grandma and grandpa to celebrate a bunch of summer birthdays together, but when I pulled up to their house, the plot to the right was completely empty. As in, no stones, no base, no debris, just slightly overgrown grass. Grass; where there used to be a house.

When the hellos were said and the party started, I absolutely had to know what happened, so I went to ask my grandparents, and goodness gracious, I was not expecting the rollercoaster of a story they told me.

A couple of years ago, my grandparents had some very unpleasant neighbors.

They were loud at all hours, had trash in the yard, and were arguing with other people on the street—just absolute nuisances. It was a husband and wife, and their adult son would come and go irregularly. The wife would get into arguments with anyone about anything, and the husband would physically intimidate the people who spoke up for themselves. They weren’t sure what exactly was the deal with the son, but it couldn’t have been anything good, as it was well known he had been in the county jail more than a few times. The house apparently reflected the tenants, as it looked awful. It was sagging and dilapidated, with loose beams and peeling paint, but nothing was ever done about it due to the guy who rented out the place being a slumlord (we’ll get to him later).

It all came to a breaking point one night when my grandparents returned home to find their back door smashed in and some of my grandpa’s guitars missing. Now, grandpa loves his music and has been singing and playing his whole life, so it’s safe to say those guitars are not only very memorable to him, but really expensive too. They, of course, went to the police, and after some digging they found that the guitars had been sold at a pawn shop or someplace by the son.

They couldn’t get the guitars back, unfortunately, but I believe my grandparents were fairly compensated since the guitars were insured (TIL guitars have insurance). Given how expensive the guitars were, the theft was absolutely a felony, and the son once again ended up in jail.

After that, the neighbors would harass my grandparents through the fence or on their porch, meaning it was difficult for them to even sit outside. They would call them foul names, throw trash over the fence, and the husband would still try to get physical. Now, while my grandpa is a very chill and mellow guy, my grandma will take crap from no one, especially not jerks like these.

So what did she do? She got the house condemned.

It was easy for her to do, really. She called the local authorities (general attorney? property manager? I don’t know) and they came and did an inspection, though it was clear by the outside of the house that it hadn’t been properly maintained for a long time. One call led to more calls, and the property was deemed unfit to live in, which forced the rude neighbors to move out. I’m not sure what happened to them or where they went, but supposedly they were put up in a nearby hotel by the slumlord until the house could be fixed… (Ooo, foreshadowing)

Now enter the slumlord.

Of course his tenants told him who had reported the house, so of course he’s upset with my grandparents. Rather than fix the house, though, he got aggressive the first day he was there, yelling at my grandparents about how they’re idiots for reporting him and how they’ve cost him a bunch of money, and he’s going to sue them and on and on. It got to the point where the across-the-street neighbors called the local police to come and diffuse the situation, which they did.

A few weeks passed and my grandma hadn’t seen the slumlord or anyone around to fix the house.

Not being one to let things go easily, grandma started making frequent calls to a bunch of services, reporting the house and its lack of progress. Each time, the slumlord’s truck would appear for a day and then leave without changing a thing (grandpa said he would block their driveway but since they stay home most of the time, it wasn’t a major issue; grandma disagreed). Finally, my grandma had complained enough that officials came out and condemned the house for demolition.

This had two major effects. First, the rude neighbors were now practically homeless, since as soon as they and the slumlord ran out of money to pay for the hotel, they’d be stranded.

Second, the slumlord still had to pay a crapload of fines for the state of the house. The rest is more his fault than my grandma’s actions, but he refused to pay and refused to show up in court, leading to a warrant being put out for his arrest.

A few months ago, the demolition teams came and tore down the place, leaving the lot perfectly barren. They even removed the driveway, so now it just looks like an extension of the side yard. My grandparents were not sure of the final state of the neighbors and slumlord, but my grandma looked very pleased with herself as she finished her story.

I love her so much.”

“I’ve (M50) got two step sons, whom I just call my sons, as I’ve been in their life since they were 8 and 10 and are now young men. My wife and I made it a point to have a great relationship with their dad (Jason) and made sure he had a chance to be around as much as possible, even staying at our place frequently to be around his boys as he lived over an hour away and couldn’t afford to live closer.

Jason had a crazy ex-partner who had tried to claim they were married (variously saying common law or that they were married in secret, or married on an Indian reservation), but he had a restraining order out against her because she was nuts and had tried various ways to screw up his life.

The ex is a horrible person.

She had been arrested several times for forgery and fraud. She and Jason had a fiery relationship, but he had it in his head that he should make it work as he did like her daughters and grandson. But the ex got him sent to prison for violating his probation when he left the county to go to his mom’s funeral and hadn’t filed an appropriate form (I’m a little unclear on this part, but she played a major role in it). After he got out several months later, she wanted him back and he wasn’t having it. He made a clean break, moved to a new town, but she continued to harass him, thus leading to the restraining order. She would send texts to people pretending to be police investigating, saying he was intoxicated driving or taking substances, or pretending to be friends/family to spread rumors and hurt him. She even sent texts to my kids from burner phones, pretending to be other family or friends, saying awful things about their dad.

Jason died unexpectedly of a heart attack, and it was a shock to all of us. He was finally living in peace, had great relationships with friends and his sons, and was the happiest he had ever been. He didn’t have much. He lived in a single wide trailer a friend had let him stay in for free, some boxes of tools, old comics, video games, D&D books and modules, mementos from his times in the Marines, and an old (2009) pickup, which, on several occasions, he had promised my oldest son (let’s call him Paul).

Jason didn’t have a will, and my wife became the executor of the estate because, at the time of death, both the sons were minors and sole heirs.

We packed up the things out of Jason’s trailer and took the truck, which had Jason’s name on the title but had to wait for the death certificate to retitle it in Paul’s name. But the ex called Jason’s sister, demanding the truck, saying it was hers and posting on social media that she was reporting it as stolen, etc., which really made me angry.

After we got the death certificate, we went to the DMV and found out that she had stolen the title to the truck by forgery, saying she was the only heir and we couldn’t transfer the title.

My son was driving around with a packet documenting everything in case he was pulled over for driving a stolen vehicle. We had to get a lawyer and start a special process that took several months before a director at the DMV fixed it and we were able to title the truck, with the ex continuing to threaten and cause problems and making everyone miserable and costing us several thousand in legal fees.

Early last year, we got through probate court; the ex never showed, in spite of saying that she was the wife and sole heir. The court declared the boys as the sole heirs and my wife as executor of the estate in their names.

Instead of showing up, the ex sent an email to the court, saying she couldn’t make it because of work (she doesn’t have a job), and that Jason was never around his kids (he didn’t miss a single high school football game, home or away, and never missed a home track meet) and that they were just leeching off his SSI for the back child support. She went on with a bunch of other non-relevant crap just to trash my wife and sons and pretty much said it didn’t matter what the judge said that she should get everything.

During this time, we found out that Jason’s name was on the deed of the ex’s house.

In order to get a reduction in property taxes because of Jason’s disabled veteran status, she had filed papers to put him on the deed, but not the mortgage. If she had just left my kids alone, we would have let it go, but she had pushed things past the point of tolerance, so we filed suit for half the house (property is worth about $380K). We went to court-ordered mediation, and she rejected a mediated settlement of a fraction of the value, which we would have taken.

In April, her lawyer dropped her, and so she got a continuance on the first hearing. She then claimed that she had “found” a will from Jason designating her as sole heir, in addition to another signed paper that she “found” as a quitclaim deed from Jason for the house (I did wonder if it was this or her not paying him which caused him to drop her).

She was going to go back to probate court to “reopen” (appeal?) probate and needed time for that, which the judge granted.

On Tuesday, we finally went to court on the deed to the house. She no-showed. The judge had inquiries to the probate court, and she never filed any papers. The trial lasted less than 10 minutes as the judge recorded the facts and awarded the estate half the property. They will empanel three lawyers to determine how the property will be sold, and she’s going to lose her house and, for the first time in her miserable life, face the consequences of her actions.

Face the consequences.”

“I’ve got one gem of a story that my grandfather told me about his hometown after he came home from WWII. It has to do with a tree framer and over 20 homes getting bulldozed. Enjoy!

At the end of WWII, thousands of troops were heading home, starting new families, and wanting to move out of the city. There was a major housing boom all around the county; people couldn’t move out of the cities fast enough, and developers could not build homes fast enough.

There was a ton of money to be made in the construction business, which led to some “underhanded” building practices. One such practice was starting construction before the land acquisition was finalized.

Enter my grandfather “G”. After serving as a pilot during the war, he came home to a very different town. When my G went off to fight in 1942, the town he described as he left was “tired and worn down”. But to his amazement, the town he saw stepping off the train in 1948 was anything but. Newly paved roads, a traffic light, and new homes—new homes that just went on and on.

He actually got lost on his way back to the family farm because the new main town road was re-routed while he was away. But what took him by surprise the most was the new development being built on his childhood friend “John’s” tree farm.

This was surprising to him, mainly because he knew how much the farm meant to John and his family. The farm had been in the family for at least two generations. ... Click here to continue reading