Revenge is a dish best served cold and boy is it sweet. Sometimes there's nothing better than getting even! These folks dish on the most devious revenge they've gotten on somebody who crossed them.
All content has been edited for clarity.
Things Work Themselves Out In The End
“A supervisor spot had opened up on the night shift, and I was a shoo-in for the job. But a co-worker who had been sleeping with the boss got the nod, even though she’d only been at the plant months while I had years.
Still, I sucked it up and did my job. Half the time I had to instruct her in hers.
Any idea or suggestion of improvement she gave to upper management was a stolen idea. She was trying to seal her space in management heaven.
I found a way to streamline the process that increased output and cut down on overtime without sacrificing quality. Once again, she claimed the idea was her own.
She was showing the big dogs the process when one of the managers asked a question about how we got around a glitch in the machine’s capabilities. She had no idea, so she said, ‘I’ll let Dennis explain it. He can explain it better than I can.’
I was nearby setting the machine up and overheard. So I said, ‘Sorry, guys. I’m on a timeline. This truck goes out in half an hour. I’m sure her explanation will be fine,’ and I left to get my job done.
I watched from afar as she struggled to come up with an explanation. It became abundantly clear she had no idea what she was talking about, and that someone else HAD to have come up with the idea.
A couple of managers came up to me later and asked if I knew how to get around the glitch, which I explained in great detail. They nodded, looked at each other, and left.
Fast forward a week. The night shift needed a new supervisor again, as the one who had just got the job got demoted, got angry, and quit. And for some strange reason, I got an office and a raise in pay.”
Operation Butter Up
“I made a girl fat… and not by marrying her. In 2003, my office got a new secretary and a new manager. The secretary, a thin blonde, was a vile she-devil, she wouldn’t do anything the staff asked (find info, set up calls, get coffee for anyone who wasn’t herself) and the manager wouldn’t do anything about it. We joked that her job title was “Internet Quality Control” because she more-or-less sent personal emails and played on myspace all day, to which when she overheard, literally went to the manager in tears.
Then one day I got a rather large jar of candy as a gift and she just about single-handedly consumed half of it, which ticked me off good. Then later that week, I brought in a dozen donuts and she ate half of them on her own. Upon putting the facts together, our web designer, editor, and I decided to fuel the fire in something we called Operation: Butter Up where we each in turn brought in a large bag of candy to fill up my jar as fast as she could empty it.
In the course of three months, she put on 20 pounds. In a year’s time, she was unrecognizable and along with being a crank, she was an idiot and couldn’t figure out how. Several times a week we provided her sweets and snacks of every kind until her boyfriend dumped her, which was about eight months into the project, and she had to get a new wardrobe.
We lucked out because she was rather stupid, but we had more diabolical measures lined up if she stopped eating the candy, along the lines of mixing in weight-gainer to the non-dairy creamer she was using and things of that nature.
That was 2003 and she’s still big to this day, saw her on Facebook and smiled at our handiwork. Still single to this day, and I would like to think that we had something to do with it.”
He 100% Deserved That
“Not me, but my sister. My sister and I grew up in Kentucky, and after 20+ years of living here, she decided she was ready for something new in life, so she made plans to move to Washington state. She made all the arrangements to move, packed all her things, etc. The only things she didn’t want to take were her two cats (She was just going to be staying in someone’s house until she could get a little money saved after the move), so she left them with one of her co-workers, that she had known/worked with for several years, until she could come back and get them.
Fast forward six months, my sister is living happily on the west coast. A mutual friend of ours sees my sister’s coworker at his job. The friend asks him how everything is going, and asks about the cats.
While refusing to make eye contact, the coworker tells our friend ‘One got out about a month ago, the other a week ago. Please don’t tell (insert my sisters name here).’ So naturally the first thing our friend does is call my sister to tell her (obviously her co-worker hadn’t said anything to my sister). My sister calls me, super upset, because she obviously loves her cats, and begs me to try and find them. The only option was to try the Humane Society, so I called another friend of ours to take me. We go to the Humane Society, search the entire lost and found section. It seemed completely hopeless, but by some strange and awesome universal force, I approached THE LAST cage, to find one of her cats.
Curious as to how he found his way here, I asked the people working there, and they politely informed me he was an ‘owner give up.’ When I asked the date he was taken in I figured out it was only one month after my sister had moved. So, I re-adopt her cat, call my sister and she broke down in tears of joy. With the cat safe and sound, I ask if she wants me to ‘do anything about it’ (the kind of thing a brother does when someone messes with their sister), to which she tells me ‘No. Everything will work itself out.’
I wasn’t sure what she meant by that but I had faith in her.
Fast forward another few months, and my sister has returned to Kentucky to pick up her cat. While in town, my sister, dad, and myself all go out to eat a family breakfast. Half way through our meal, I look over and see her old co-worker, the one who abandoned her cat, sitting in a booth across from an attractive young lady. I tell my sister, and she instantly becomes furious. My dad tells her not to do anything, but I tell her she has to. So, we give our dad a minute to leave, and as soon as he does, my sister grabs a plastic ketchup bottle, stands up, walks to his table, flips the cap open, and sprays him up and down his face and shirt, giving him only time for his voice to crack ‘OH MY GOD.’
The entire restaurant had stopped what they were doing to watch all this go down, and everyone was completely silent, except the one guy in the back that couldn’t stop laughing. My sister finishes spraying the ketchup, throws the bottle in his face and just says ‘I know what you did.’ Now she is happily reunited with (one of) her cats.”
Purple Is The Color Of Revenge
“My best friend in high school was a genius, He was the type of person when wronged, would get even. At the start of the school year, one of the jocks took it upon himself to pick on my friend. We knew this would not end well.
As we all rode home together, we were somewhat upset when our friend would be late for the car. What we did not know was he was studying his foe’s movements. Observation went on for weeks.
Turns out the jock was on the school dive team. He would practice and then go into the shower. He would undress and go into the first shower.
One day, our friend told us he would be late. He went into the locker room. Unscrewed the first showerhead, and filled it with gentian violet dye powder. These were the kind of showers that did not have hot or cold, just on and off with a set temperature.
The unsuspecting victim comes in, undresses, heads into the shower, turns on the water, and is drenched with a purple die that stained his skin. He was purple for quite some time.”
He Did Some Sleuthing And Came Out On Top
“This was a couple of years ago- I like to think I’m older and wiser now. So my friend needed a new phone, but couldn’t afford one- I wanted to get her a replacement for her iPhone (I think iPhone 4 if that gives an indication of how long ago this was), but I couldn’t afford to get one straight out of the box either. So off to my least favorite option that I always swear I’ll never use again until the next time; Craigslist.
I found one in good (near perfect) condition at a good price- the guy was selling because he changed carriers. I think at that time new ones were around $500 NIB and he was asking $200. I arranged a meeting in a public place since my first priority is not ending up in the news. The guy shows up and I check out the phone. Everything looks good to me. It’s not locked and it’s on the startup screen. Cool, we have a deal. I forgot to mention my friend lives four hours away. So I drive down to surprise her and she’s thrilled! We take it to her carrier to get it activated and… bad ESN number. Basically, it means it’s an expensive paperweight. The phone was either reported stolen or the guy jumped carriers without paying off his contract. The store gives me the phone back- there is really nothing they can do.
I was livid. And I had a four-hour drive home to get progressively more ticked off. So I arrive home and call the number I had for him. Disconnected. Son of a…. now I’m beyond mad. But what can I do? The ad is gone and he gave me a burner number. Ah…. his fatal mistake. When he met me he drove his work truck. Gotcha. I called his work and asked for him (don’t remember his name now). I said, ‘Hey, remember me? The girl you sold the stolen phone to? Yeah… about that. You are giving me my money back. PLUS $500 for a new phone- or I tell your boss about this. And the police, who have the stolen phone and would really like to talk to you.’ (Total lie but I needed to turn up the heat alright).
So Mr. Criminal Mastermind gives me the $200 plus $500 for my trouble. He says he just jumped carriers and really needed the cash but my trust is at 0% right now. I might have called his boss later and tipped him off that some of his employees might not be using the company vehicles for totally legal things during business hours.
The cherry on top was learning that some countries cough Russia cough can bypass ESN codes and are happy to pay for phones that are useless in the US. So add $400 to the total of that disaster. Then subtract $500 for a brand new, in the box, never been opened phone for my friend. And a little something for those working hard driving that karma bus.”
A Memorable Day For The Whole Family
“When I was about 13-years-old, my family had saved up to take us to Six Flags Over Georgia. It’s about a two-hour drive away from our house, so we left early to get there as soon as it opened so we wouldn’t have to fight any crowds at the gate. As we pull into the parking lot, we find a decent parking spot in an area that’s already packed. As we start to pull into the spot, a car of four 20-something-year-olds, cut us off and take the spot.
‘Okay, whatever!’ we think. Life happens. But no. To add injury to insult the driver then gets out and yells ‘What the heck you gonna do about it OLD MAN?’ and points at us but more directed towards my poor dad.
His buddies all have a good laugh and head to the gate. I can tell my dad is steamed but he keeps his mouth shut. We find another spot and as we are heading to the gate, my dad says he’ll be back and walks off. Fast forward to the end of the day. The park is closed and we are the last group of people leaving the park. We hopped in the car and lo and behold, as we are leaving the parking lot, we see the same car with four flat tires, and four ticked-off guys just sitting there. My dad drives by them and without missing a beat, rolls down the window and yells ‘What the heck are you gonna do about it PRICK?’ as we drive off into the sunset. That’s my dad for ya.”
She Devised A Plans In Seconds
“Today is New Year’s Eve. Up until the day after Christmas, I’d been engaged for seven months.
No longer. Want to know why?
In mid-November, I learned my fiancé Sam had been cheating on me for six months. I discovered this by accident. My phone died and I needed to Google something, so I grabbed his iPad- which I hadn’t used in a while. Sam has iMessage, so all his messages (received and outgoing) synced to the iPad’s message app. I saw everything- texts, pictures, videos- saw it all. Apparently, a Masters in Chemical Engineering didn’t constitute much intelligence, because the idiot never changed his passcode.
His sidekick was a mutual friend of ours, Madison, who’d been in our home, had dinner with us, and was someone I’d actually seen as a potential bridesmaid. I spent days reading through everything- and she was pregnant*. *He’d also been sending her money from our saving-for-a-bigger-apartment fund.
It was catastrophic. I cried so hard I thought I’d throw up. But what _really _got me were the things they said about me.
They mocked me, made jokes, ridiculed and belittled me; because I was the oblivious idiot fiancée who was so stupid. Madison would text me, chatting about wedding planning, then screenshot the messages and send them to Sam, laughing about how stupid I was. There was so much more and far more vicious. I was gobsmacked. I felt like the meanest, bitchiest girls from high school were standing over me, laughing while I cried. But I was more confused than anything- who the bloody heckwas this person, pretending to be my Sam? Now I realize I’d only seen one side of him. For three years.
Madison had actively been pushing Sam to dump me and suggested the day after Christmas after we’d returned home from seeing his family. When I read that particular message, something inside me snapped.
I’ve been snickered at my whole life- for being the poor kid in a wealthy school, for being a fat kid and teenager, for being an ugly duckling, for always having older, out-of-date things, for being quiet, for being an unphotogenic teenager… schoolkids are their own category of vicious. But growing up with all that gives you a core of steel, and anyone who tries to punch it will break their hand. I was not _going to be humiliated. _Not again, and not like this.
So I thought ahead.
Sam had been out of town when I discovered the messages, so I had a few days to pull myself together. For the next month and a half, I pretended everything was fine- at which I’m alarmingly good. Soon, my feelings toward him hardened until my initial devastation was gone and replaced by nothing. I’d wait until I was alone to read through his iPad, always putting it back in the same position in his bottom drawer. He never suspected anything, and still never changed his passcode. I collected the most “telling” evidence: the most explicit messages, the most vicious ones towards me, the ones mentioning the money, the ultrasound photos, I sent them all to myself then covered my tracks.
Christmas comes. We arrived at his parent’s house on Christmas morning, with plans to spend the night. I spent the day watching that cheating, mocking, money-laundering _scumbag _have a lovely Christmas. He kissed me goodnight and whispered in my ear how much he loved me.
PRICK.
The next morning, before we all sat down for breakfast, I sent all the evidence to his mother, father, two of his siblings, and three cousins. BOOM.
Any family member whose contact I had, received it. I was able to time this, because Sam’s family is pretty phone addicted, and they all get email notifications.
My dear readers, I wish you could’ve witnessed the scene which befell that house. The weasel couldn’t even face his own family. Talk about whiplash from that plot twist.
He ran outside and had to be cornered. His brother dragged him by his hair back into the house, but I didn’t stay for that. I’d insisted we take my car, so I said my goodbyes to his family, reassured them this wasn’t their fault, thanked them for everything, and left.
That was six days ago. I changed the lock on our apartment, sold the ring, threw out all his things in trash bags, and put them outside the gate to our apartment complex – with the iPad on top. Luckily for him, no one took anything. He’s currently staying with a friend, as none of his family in town will speak to him, and he can’t afford a hotel indefinitely.
And don’t worry about Madison, I didn’t forget about her. I sent everything to her mother with whom she still lives.”
A Great CATastrophe, If You Will.
“I couldn’t stand this one kid who I went to high school with, who lived a few blocks away in the neighborhood. One night, he sent cops to my parent’s house where I was still living, telling them I had done something I didn’t do. Luckily I had a receipt in my pocket from the restaurant I was at, in suburb 10 miles away that was time-stamped half an hour later than when he said the incident occurred.
Regardless, my parents were woken up, etc, etc. I was ticked.
Well, a few days later, my mom bought some plants that she left in the kitchen window. Our family cat was a nutball to begin with, but all of a sudden he was constantly jumping on the counters, eating these plants. When I’d try and shoo him down, he would actually take a defensive stance and hiss and scratch. 10 minutes later, he would be back, chewing on the leaves.
I asked my mom what the plants were, and she said, ‘Oh, they are catnip. They have a really pretty flower. I’m going to plant them in the backyard when the weather warms up.’
I was like, ‘Not a chance you’re planting these in our backyard. Look what you’re doing to the cat! He’s an aggressive stoner! You’ll bring every cat in the neighborhood, and they will all fight, all night long!’
Suddenly, at that exact moment, a revenge plot was born. The following night, I snuck into his backyard and planted the catnip everywhere. My friend who lived across the street from him told me it worked perfectly, and that he was always complaining about cats fighting in his backyard after that.
Revenge. No physical confrontation, no property damage, just stoned cats.
Felt a little like some sort of supervillain, sending out my cat minions to do my dirty work.”
So Much For The Tough Guy Routine
“Not extremely proud of this one looking back, but oooooh boy do I not regret doing it.
Driver’s education at my school over the summer lasts about a month. There’s a kid I’m partnered with this kid who is a complete prick.
He’s pretty loaded money-wise, always condescending to people, and tries to pull the tough guy act when he clearly doesn’t look like one. We’ll call him Chris. Mind you, Chris doesn’t have many friends for the reasons I’ve listed. He also drives to driver’s education. Remember that.
So, one day, we’re working on parking. I couldn’t park for the life of me for some reason, I was clearly angry at this after seeing how well the two people I was paired with were doing. The session we were doing ends, and Chris looks at me as we walk far enough to get to his new Sonata his parents had bought him. He’d only had it for about a week and a half by this time.
‘So, Joe, you see this? This is how you park, and not like some complete brain-dead idiot.’
I’m normally a calm person, but he was really good at getting under my skin. I picked up a rock about the size of a baseball and looked him square in the eyes. Throwing it right through his windshield, he obviously started freaking out.
Chris talks about how he’s going to call the police, I bring up the obvious fact that he’s 20 miles from his house and he’s driven here himself. He’s already broken the law by driving without a license.
He drove home after some trash talking between the two of us. Could he have actually called the cops on me still? Absolutely. I’m still entirely confused as to how I didn’t get in trouble with it. It wasn’t really proper justice, sure, but it still felt just as sweet.”
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