When was the last time you felt like getting even with someone? When somebody does us wrong, getting some sort of revenge is often foremost on our minds.

Then again, revenge isn’t always easy to get and sometimes, we may struggle to just feel better about our situation. Perhaps you just want to hear about somebody else’s situation, and that’s what we share with you below.

The stories of revenge that we have for you here are some of the best that the Internet has to offer. They will inspire you to greater things, and perhaps even help you to get a little revenge of your own.

21. LANDLORD ADVERTISES OUR COMPANY’S EQUIPMENT FOR SALE TO COMPETITORS, BEST FOLLOW OUR EVICTION TO THE LETTER

“I work for a leisure company, think soft play, indoor soccer, laser tag (can’t be specific). Prior to quarantine, Managers and the big bosses were negotiating the renewal of the lease on one of our parks. Things were going mostly smoothly, however, the landlords were difficult to contact.

Then 2020’s stuff hit the fan.

All of our sites were closed, and everything was thrown into a mess.

Negotiations began to slip down the priority list; nobody thought the landlord would push an eviction for an expired lease during this period. Especially with it still getting rent, despite the sites closure, and the closure of every business and restaurant in the immediate area. We were wrong.

A few days ago we received a letter saying we had 7 days to leave the premises and take everything with us.

We are reminded that anything left in the building after 7 days will become the landlord’s property! (that line is very important).

Now a lot of construction goes into installing our equipment into a new building, which makes emptying one even harder. Add a quarantine, with no staff and most businesses shut, it meant that saving much of our assets would prove to be extremely difficult.

To lose a profitable site and all of its assets is definitely a blow to our company. But here is where it gets worse;

A few days into our 7-day eviction, we find out that the landlord has been advertising our park to our competitors. But he isn’t offering just the building, he is offering ALL OF OUR STUFF PRE INSTALLED. ‘Ready to go, just needs re-branding.’ The landlord has evicted us from the property in an attempt to increase rent and make a solid profit from our equipment installed because he thinks we won’t be able to empty the park.

We were furious.

And here is where the malicious compliance came in, we were told we had 7 days to move everything we owned out of the property. so that’s what we did. Local businesses from all around offered up free space to store our things, a few people came back out of quarantine and they all spent the rest of the week removing, selling or destroying everything that was related to us.

We didn’t even leave light fittings.

In every other sight vacation we have seen, we always end up leaving thousands of dollars worth of disco lights in the ceilings because they’re too hard to get. We leave most the construction in, as well as things like the bars and kitchens that all stay intact (recognizable as what they once were) but not this building.

We ripped up the flooring we installed, tore down the walls that were not part of the original structure (Wooden walls to divide up the space) ripped apart our manager’s offices and removed all artwork, and lockers.

The landlord now has every new deal he has been making dead in the water, a large renovation bill to install new flooring etc. (or a company willing to do it themselves like we were).

Quarantine has been extended another 4 weeks, so he has at least another 4 weeks without rent (we were paying) and won’t have any potential buyers.

Silver lining: The assets we got out of the site (fridges, tv’s, equipment, food, tables) have all been sold, and the lack of rent and additional income has helped the business and paid staff wages.”

20. FAIL YOUR ONE FEMALE STUDENT? SHE’LL COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU YEARS LATER

“Over the course of my mom’s life, she’s experienced quite a bit of chauvinism and oppression, as a woman who grew up in 1960’s/70’s Michigan and then went to college to study to become a pharmacist (a very progressive woman).

Not the least of which is the one time in 8th grade that her teacher slapped her across the face for spurning his advances and caught no flak for it (except the ass-kicking my grandpa unloaded “off the books”, according to my uncles), but that’s a story for a different time.

Inbthe early 1980’s my mom, who we’ll call Sue (not her real name), was studying at med school at a major Mid-West university to become a pharmacist. One of the things that my mom has always had was a stellar work ethic and a drive to succeed, which showed in her schoolwork, especially when she scored a 100% on one of her midterms!

The course whose exam she got this amazing perfect score on was taught by a professor that she didn’t care for. According to her, this guy was a natively Middle Eastern man who exhibited very conservative, ideologies in his interactions with his students, but was otherwise a solid teacher. Even though he was jerk, my mom didn’t let him get to her until she noticed that despite her stellar performance, her overall score in the class was a C-, just barely a failing grade.

My mom was angry and confused, so she visited her professor’s office to confront him.

According to her this is how the conversation went down approximately:

Mom: Hello, Professor. I’d like to talk to you about my course grade. I scored a 100% on the midterm, but my current course grade is a failing grade. What seems to be the problem?

Prof: It’s near impossible for anyone to score a 100% on my exams, especially someone like you.

You must have copied someone else.

Mom: Someone like me? I didn’t do that! You can’t prove that!

Prof: Yes, a woman could not exceed her male peers’ performance. And the fact that I can’t prove it is why I gave you a failing course grade instead of filing you for expulsion.

Mom: Professor, that’s BS! You can’t do this to a student who has fairly aced the test!

I’ll have you reported.

Prof: Look, if you can prove that you actually earned 100% by taking my mid-term a second time in solitude then I will alter your grade. If you score one point less than 100%, then your grade stays where it is. Although, I don’t understand your persistence in this when you should have been married by now like a good girl (Note: Mom was 24).

(My mom has dealt with jerks like this since forever, so she decides screw it and resolves to beat him at his own stupid game) Mom: Fine. Have it your way. When do I take the exam?

So my mom scheduled to re-take the same exam in a few days. She takes it, and for the second time, she aces it! This prof near blew his lid when he realized he had no choice but to grade her fairly, and she passed the class that final semester in med school with a 4.0 and graduated on the Dean’s List.

Fast forward 3 years, now my mom has made a career for herself right out of college with a pharmaceutical company. She has worked hard for the past 3 years and has actually achieved a relatively high rank within her company’s regional branch (VP of some sector or something). So my mom is at a pharmaceuticals convention in some city and everyone is wearing color-coded name tags (the color of one’s tag indicates their rank/position in their respective company/field).

She’s walking around looking at the different booths and schmoozing with corporate or whatever when who does she run into but her old jerk prof!

He recognizes her and greets her like nothing happened, like a prof would to any old pupil. She’s polite and returns his greeting, noticing his friendly demeanor and wondering if maybe he’s changed into a better person when he happily drops this question on her, “So where’s your husband?

Is he running a panel or something?” (She hadn’t met my dad yet, but he’s a doctor too, an anesthesiologist. Cute medical love, right?) Immediately my mom laughs and says, “I’m not married. I’m here representing my company, Pharma Corp, Inc.” His smile droops when he looks at her name tag, so she looks at his and is karmically satisfied for the second time when she sees that she is a full two colors his superior 3 years out of med school.

He somewhat dejectedly bids her farewell and moves on, as does she. I love my mom.”

19. MY AUNT RUINED MY DINNER, SO I RUINED HERS

“My petty revenge story is a little gross, so I apologize in advance.

I have a sensitivity/intolerance to most meats. Red meat is the worst, and beef is particularly bad. Doctors recommended I try to get my protein from alternative sources if possible, so I’ve happily been a vegetarian since I was 13 or so.

When I was younger, my aunt did not believe the doctors, and thought I was just being fussy. We come from a meat and potatoes town, so she had plenty of friends backing her up on this.

This is the same aunt who convinced my parents I was faking asthma (turns out, I wasn’t…shocker), and also refused to get her own daughter glasses because she thought she just wanted them for attention (she later discovered her daughter’s eyesight was atrocious… another shocker, I know).

The whole family regularly had dinner together, taking turns hosting. When it was my aunt’s turn to host she assured me my burger was meatless.

As you probably guessed, it was not.

I was starving that night and gulped down my (beef) burger first. My aunt was smiling, and I thought it was simply because I liked her cooking. Looking back, I realize her little smirk was because she thought she had caught me in a lie or achieved whatever her end game was.

Well, a few minutes passed and I got that familiar, unpleasant feeling in my stomach.

It was then that I realized what she had done, and why she was smiling.

When I eat meat, I almost always get sick. I just can’t hold it down.

So, when it came time to kneel before the porcelain throne, I decided to stay put. I instead took aim at my aunt, who was seated beside me at the head of the table.”

18. ASKING A STUDENT WITH CANCER TO TURN ON THEIR CAMERA? YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

“There are two important background things to know for the story:

1.) I was diagnosed with a rare ovarian cancer at the beginning of this year (I had surgery and some chemo and am mostly recovered now). I still have to go in for frequent testing and occasional monitoring.

I am a private person to the extent that I have went out with people for years without telling my parents, so you best believe random coworkers and bosses are unaware of my medical history.

2.) I attend a university that has an ambassador program. Basically if you have a high enough GPA you are able to interview for the program and if you get in they pay for your tuition during the time you are an ambassador.

In exchange, you work 5 hours a week and work graduation/other events. I am one of these ambassadors. This is my story. Law and Order sound effect.

My supervisor for the ambassador program, Ms. M, has spent the majority of our time together belittling me. As I sit here about to type about her, I find myself already exasperated thinking about reliving some of the details, so I will be short and sweet for both your sake and mine: she follows every rule to the letter and leaves no room for collaboration or discussion.

As an example, we use Microsoft teams for communication, and she has us clock in and out in a group of 20 people by saying “I’m here” and “I’m leaving.” So every day you have to scroll through dozens of messages to find anything of importance and listen to notification sounds every time someone so much as takes a lunch break. I suggested using the time clock function on teams and even offered to set it up for us, and was told that I was “deliberately undermining her position.”

Another quick example is her vehemence when I told her I didn’t have any social media (to advertise the college). She was certain I was lying and went so far as to ask the other ambassadors to try and “find” me.

They didn’t. There’s nothing to find. Crazy concept.

I’ve challenged her at a couple of junctures, but ultimately realized I was fighting a losing battle and I’d be better off keeping my head down.

(laughs in dramatic irony).

Fast forward to four days ago (Friday): there’s a mandatory online event in three days (Monday) where the dean of the college would talk to the ambassadors, as well as live stream the event to the college’s website and YouTube page.

Ms. M sent out a message that I will copy and paste here (because the formatting is so dramatic that it makes me chuckle).

“Students MUST have their cameras ON and phones OFF. Repeat!! Phones OFF. Cameras ON.” (Like c’mon lady, bold, caps, or italics. Your email almost gave me a stroke)

I follow up the same day: ‘Ms. M, unfortunately I will be at a doctor’s appointment at this time and will be unable to turn my camera on during the event.’

No response.

I send another email to follow up.

No response.

The day of the event rolls around. I direct message her through Microsoft teams ten minutes before. I see that she’s seen the message with a read receipt. Nothing.

Okay, video chat starts and several students join the session with their cameras on. Then the dean. He gets halfway through introducing himself and Ms. M interrupts him as he takes a brief pause and says ‘excuse me, could we please have ALL of the students turn their cameras on.’

I say nothing but put a quick message I already had typed in anticipation in the group chat ‘Ms. M I have a private situation that bars me from turning on my camera, I have contacted you individually.’

Not but a few seconds after I send it, I get called out by name, and I respond audibly, ‘Ms. M I cannot turn on my camera at this time’ and she responds ‘expectations were clear and you were told multiple times about this; every other student here managed to do it and I expect the same out of you.’

Now, one of the cool things about having cancer is you become very familiar with the hospital staff, and if you’re lucky, they’re fun to talk to. During the viral respiratory illness, my nurses were my tethers to sanity because no one could visit me while I had inpatient infusions. So I told one of my nurses, Amy, about this situation beforehand. She joked that if I was told to turn my camera on, I should really play up my illness.

In any other situation, I would’ve been entirely opposed, but sweet revenge was in sight (when I replay it in my head I imagine that anime fist-clenching thing when the protagonist resolves to get revenge). I set my laptop back a bit further from myself on my legs so you could see the entirety of me in my hospital regalia.

Teams will display the person currently talking as the largest image in chat.

Everyone had their audio off except me, the dean, and Ms. M, so when I turned my camera on I was displayed as the EKG loudly thrummed away (on max volume, thanks to Amy).

Silence.

Me: ‘I asked Ms. M through email and teams if I could opt out of having my camera on, but she insisted.’

I waited a beat to see if anyone would say anything and then continued with my special vocal blend of melodramatic gratitude and illness-laden shakiness: ‘Online engagement is so important for this new era of learning.

I can see why having the camera on is important, though I was hoping I might be granted an exception.’

Dean: ‘Ms. R, you are more than welcome to turn your camera off, I am so sorry for the misunderstanding.’

Me: ‘Thank you so much for making a special exception for me. It’s been a difficult week but I feel grateful to be here.’

Then, two people leave the call. One was Ms. M and the other was Anthony, who is Ms. M’s boss! I didn’t know he’d be there! Haven’t heard from either of them yet but I’m awaiting a follow up with anticipation.

I’m typing this from the hospital and feeling gratitude for a lot of things (‘tis the season, after all).

I am here. I am alive. And above all, this stupid disease won’t stop me from putting a bully in their gosh darn place.”

17. FIRING ME BECAUSE I TAKE TOO LONG TO RESPOND TO EMAILS? ALRIGHT THEN

“Gather round as I tell you the story of the time I got fired at the worst place I have ever worked.

From day one, it was a nightmare. There was 0 onboarding or training. I was simply given the log-in info for a couple of different websites and told to get to work. This company planned large conferences and I was in charge of speaker coordination.

I was the only person in this role. The information solely resided with me.

Not a big deal, I say to myself. I’m good at thinking on my feet. I’ll just ask questions when I need clarification on something.

That turned out to be impossible. My manager’s first language wasn’t English. I’m all for learning new languages. I think it’s a great skill to have and it takes a lot of work being able to speak multiple languages is impressive.

The problem was that her English was so poor that it was often very hard to understand what she was trying to say.

I once asked if she had time to hop on a call and explain something to me and she responded with ‘No cranne. Self skills are a must. I am bird without head’. It took me a few days to figure out that she was trying to say that things were hectic, she was running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, and she needed me to be self-sufficient.

Regardless, I did my best in the position. Small mistakes happened here and there but overall all the speakers were very happy and felt well supported. I struggled on the communication with my manager, but I thought the company was happy with my work.

Until 4 months in when I was randomly pulled into a meeting with my manager, HR, and legal.

Effective immediately I was fired. I asked why I was being fired and why this was the first I had heard of any problems. Why wasn’t there a write up or a verbal warning?

My manager said it was because the ten minutes (I ran the analytics) it takes me to respond to an email was too slow.

That was a bull crap reason and we all knew it. If you don’t like me personally, fine but don’t try and make this seem like I was a bad employee. To be honest, I was furious.

We do the exit interview with HR and then she asks me to send over any documents I had (we worked on personal computers remotely) and describe where I was at in regards to our next event and our speakers.

NDA’s are really common in this field, I’ve signed one at every job I’ve ever worked. But this employer’s NDA had a clause in it that worked to my advantage.

I said:

‘As per my NDA, I am not to discuss intimate details or share documents relating to this position with any employer- past or future. Since this firing was effective immediately, you are now a former employer and I am bound by my NDA.’

HR hemmed and hawed a little bit telling me that of course I could speak to them about it, this was about their event.

I pulled out my copy of the NDA (always save contracts) and pointed out the exact clause and said that it clearly stated that if I violated this NDA I would be sued, so no, I couldn’t talk to them about the position.

HR turned to Legal and Legal pointed out that I was technically correct. They were a former employer and I was bound by my NDA.

They fired me 17 days before the event. They didn’t have time to start over from scratch. I still keep in contact with some of my coworkers and apparently, the event was a crap show and manager nearly lost her job because of it.

Over half the speakers pulled out once communication broke down.

All because I take too long to respond to emails.”

16. GOING TO BE A CRAPPY SERVER? MAYBE DON’T BE A MORON NEXT TIME

“A couple of months back, my partner and I went out for drinks one night at this cool little ‘speakeasy’ in Montreal. It’s actually quite an interesting place. You come in through a nondescript entrance and the place has a really nice vibe going on once you get inside. Note: this is one of those bars where the server comes to your table and serves the drinks rather than one where you order at the bar and take the drinks back yourself.

We were seated at our table by the server. We ordered a couple of cocktails. And then, a couple more, and then a couple more after that. Each time we had to order, my partner or I would have to go fetch the server so he would take our order or go up to the bar, order, and then bring the drinks back ourselves.

Then, when it came time for the bill, I went up again so he would come to our table.

He came and thought we were going to order again despite me clearly asking for the bill when I went up. So, he went back to get the card machine and it was another ten minutes before he was back. At this point, I was quite ticked off at the not-so-great service and was debating whether or not I should tip him. The screen had an option for 10%, 15%, 20% or ‘other.’ I decided to just leave 10% as I wanted to avoid an argument with the server.

Montreal service employees are pretty darn notorious when it comes to the expectation of tips.

Now, he prints out the receipt and takes a look at it, and sees I left 10%. He then asks if we had a nice evening, to which my partner responded that we did; we both thought it was just a standard question servers ask so we didn’t bother telling him about the poor service received–especially because it wouldn’t really make a difference at this point.

The guy then says, ‘Oh, well if you had such a nice time, then you should’ve left at least a 15% tip. Because, in Canada, it’s customary to leave a minimum 15% when the service is good.’ I’m guessing the reason he felt the need to outline that’s how it is in Canada is because I’m a brown guy.

Now comes the petty part. I responded, ‘Oh I didn’t know, why don’t you cancel this bill and redo it so I can tip you properly.

He said, “Sure thing, just give me a second because the manager has to approve bill cancellations.” Again, we waited a good 10 minutes for him to come back with the new bill. I was happy to wait, though, because once he came back, I put in the PIN and then selected the ‘other’ option for tip and left him 0%. He printed out the receipt and his look of disbelief was well worth it.

We got up and my (white Canadian) partner said, ‘Our only tip for you is to give better service and not be so much of a moron. In Canada, we don’t really like morons.’”

15. DO ZERO PERCENT OF THE WORK? YOU’LL GET ZERO PERCENT OF THE CREDIT

“This story takes place my 3rd year of college. I was taking a class where the entire grade was determined by a semester long final project.

We were supposed to be in groups of three on the project, but the third guy in our group had more sense than me and bailed early. This left just me and Lazy Girl hereafter known as LG.

LG didn’t do anything the entire semester. I would ask her to work on pieces of the project, but she always had an excuse for why it wasn’t done yet (or in her case started).

Now I didn’t want any confrontation with this girl, as she was my friend at the time, but I finally lost it one night towards the end of the semester. I’d asked her to meet at my house to work on the project, but ‘something important came up.’

Fed up with this one sided partnership, I decided to air my woes at the local bars.

And guess who I run into? and LG and her partner drinking! She made up some bull crap excuse and I made a plan.

I powered through the entire assignment, except for the conclusion which I asked LG to finish. I held out exactly zero hope that she would finish this section, so I quickly finished it myself and turned in my project with a little note to the teacher.

The note detailed how I had done literally everything for the project and that despite my best efforts, I could not get LG to contribute. I said that I was turning in my version and that Our conclusions section may differ as I’d asked her to actually do that part herself.

So here’s a little tidbit about our final projects, we each had to turn one in.

LG here not only didn’t do the conclusion, she didn’t turn in a project at all!

She tried calling and complaining at me for not ‘giving her credit’ to which I went off on her for not doing crap on the entire project. I mentioned how I even gave her the opportunity to turn in my work for a grade if she’d only do ONE thing!

She hung up after that, and that was the last time we spoke.”

14. GET RID OF MY VACATION? HAVE FUN REPLACING ME

“I worked at a company that gave out exorbitant amounts of vacation.

Anyone who worked there for 25+ years received 8 weeks of vacation and 2 weeks of personal time. This was a family owned company, but rather large. We ran 3 shifts totaling 250+ people.

Enter Jimmy. Jimmy was a grizzled old man, he started at the company when he was just 20, now he was 63 and gave absolutely zero craps. Jimmy also knew how to make a specific part for our product, him and one other higher up in the office.

One day the plant owner comes out and announces he’s selling to a corporation. He’s older and ready to retire, he promises that there will be very little change and wishes us all well.

The new company comes in and immediately goes after many of the great benefits we had. The first thing they do is cut everyone’s max vacation down to 4 weeks, and do completely away with personal time.

Anyone who’s maxed out had until December 31st of that year to use it up, and they wouldn’t pay it out. They then go into the office and clean house, firing anyone who’s close to retirement. Including Jimmy’s back up.

But they also do away with one very important rule. You no longer have to get vacation approved, you can just call in and take it.

Jimmy is angry, and they know it. They realize he’s the only one in the building that can do his job now. So they hire a new kid for him to train, most likely to permanently replace Jimmy. So Jimmy does what anyone would do. He calls in the first training day for the new hire, and lets us know he’s going to use all of his PTO at once, and promptly takes 10 weeks off.

We had a back stock of parts he had made, so it wasn’t too unnerving. But for 10 weeks, Jimmy went and applied to other jobs, found one, and started.

Fast forward 10 weeks. It’s the day Jimmy is supposed to return. He doesn’t. For two days they try calling him, and even go to his house. He’s nowhere to be found. Finally on day three he calls and resigns, and they lose their mind.

The parts he makes are specialized and patented by the original founder, you can’t just hire someone off the street to make them. What eventually happened was they had to contract the original owner to come in a teach some new hires how to make them, and when he found out what all they had done it ticked him off. The last I heard he charged them a 7 figure contract to teach them how to produce the parts, and they had to pony up, or close down.

Moral of the story, don’t mess with people’s vacation time.”

13. YOU DON’T WANT A WOMAN WORKING ON YOUR CAR? THAT’S FINE, BUT YOU’RE GOING TO WAIT A LONG TIME

“Many years ago, I worked at a car dealership. The attached service garage was small and I was the only licensed mechanic.

I would occasionally have issues with male customers — they would second guess my diagnoses, watch me while I worked on their cars from the bay door, double check my work in the parking lot, etc.

I didn’t deal with customers directly and would often get my apprentice to pull cars in and out of the shop for me.

This morning in particular, we were busy. The lot jockey and apprentice were occupied helping wash cars for delivery and driving to a customer’s house.

The service advisor left a work order and keys at the parts counter, and I went out the front through service to get the car.

It was in for a service campaign, which was an update done with a scan tool. It takes about 10 minutes.

The customer was planning on waiting and was sitting in service. When he saw me with his keys in my hand, he immediately stood up, alarmed. I was hustling so I walked right by him and out the door. I missed the following conversation, according to the service advisor (also female):

Customer: ‘Who is that chick? Is she going to be working on my car? I don’t want her working on my car.’

Advisor: ‘The other tech is out at the moment, so it’s going to be quite a wait until someone else can look at your car.’

C: ‘That’s fine. I’ll wait for a guy. I don’t want that chick touching my car.’

A, politely: ‘Understood.’

The advisor comes to let me know, and I pull the car out and put the work order and keys back on the counter, nonplussed.

Half an hour passes. The apprentice is still away, and I am happily working on something else, bringing other cars in and out.

The customer is now watching each and every person who comes through the door.

The high school co-op student comes in to get something signed. The customer’s keys are still sitting on the desk. It’s been about an hour now.

C: ‘Hey— why hasn’t my car gone in yet? Can’t you get this guy to do it?’

A: ‘No, sorry. He’s just a co-op student so he is not allowed to drive the cars due to liability and insurance concerns.’

C: ‘Just get someone else to bring the car in and he can do the work. This was supposed to take 10 minutes.’

A: ‘Sorry, sir. He’s just a high school student doing his co-op; he’s not approved to perform warranty work. Only licensed techs and apprentices can do the recall.’

The car jockey returns. The advisor hands the car jockey a different set of keys, and he brings yet another car into the shop for me.

The customer is becoming incensed.

C: ‘I’ve been sitting here for over an hour and I’ve watched 5 cars go in before mine. My appointment was for 8am, this is getting ridiculous,’ blah blah blah.

At this point he says that he literally doesn’t care who does the recall, but that it has to be a guy.

The service advisor starts listing off the names of the men who work in the dealership, then saying why they can’t perform the recall.

‘Well there’s Herman, but he’s just the car jockey. He doesn’t know how to work on cars. Then there’s Jeet, but he’s about 17. I wouldn’t want him doing the recall, personally. I guess we could ask Mike— but Mike is the parts guy— he doesn’t know how to use the scan tool. The detailers are men, but they know NOTHING about cars… ‘

The customer is fuming at this point, and demands to talk to the service manager.

The manager comes out of his office, and guides the customer into the garage. He’s pretty old school… lights up a smoking stick standing at the end of my bay, and points at me.

‘That’s my best technician. Those guys take orders from her. You can either wait for her to finish what she’s working on, and then you can ask if she’s still willing to do your work, or you can take your car somewhere else.’

The guy was pretty shook up at this point and he took his car and left, two hours after he’d first arrived. I don’t think we ever saw him again, which was not much of a loss, all things considered.

That manager in particular ALWAYS stuck up for me and took my side. The service advisor has this very dead-pan sense of humor.

She knew full well it would easily be an hour before the apprentice would return from his errand, and that no one else could do the recall. This was not the first misogynist we had encountered.”

12. YOU WANNA WEAR TOUGH GUY PANTS? GOOD LUCK

“I work as a bartender in a small cocktail bar for some time now, and I’m usually chill. But bullies can still push my buttons in the wrong way. Before starting, I may be in the wrong for doing this, but it is what it is.

A week ago, a bunch of guys came over for a few.

They seemed like OK dudes, early 20-is, but the group dynamic was kind of off. Introducing the main antagonist. Obnoxious guy, too loud, snapping his fingers at me when ordering (don’t snap fingers at bartenders kids, we’re not dogs), punching his friends in the shoulders all the time,… A sportier, really aggressive version of a David Spade character he was.

Next to David Spade, sat the victim of most of his ‘playful’ teasing.

Silently enduring his crap, I really felt sorry for this fellow. He wasn’t a drinker, but he looked like he would rather be drinking distilled devil’s pee than continue sitting next to this macho maniac. He was really uncomfortable. David continued to bug him to take a shot at least, ‘come on, one with me, don’t be a wuss…’ until, after whole night of persuasion, finally my dude waved the white flag.

Ok, let’s do one shot together, then leave me be.

‘Two of your most messed up shots,’ Spade shouted snapping his fingers, while I imagined snapping his neck. Oh, you’ll get a messed up shot, buddy. I made this two-layered shots, but while looking almost the same, they were different. David got stuff like Red Jacques Senaux Absinthe (75% booze), Stroh (80% booze), tabasco (110% flaming diarrhea), really nasty business altogether, and other guy got mostly syrups, juices, harmless stuff.

They looked almost identical, Red Absinth can pass visually as a cranberry juice, Stroh as a syrup from brown sugar, Sambuca as anything colorless, etc…

They took their shots and all heck broke loose. Other guy chugged his shot like a champion, not even flinching (why would he, he drank juice). But David Spade… Boy, oh boy. He looked like he’d have a brain aneurism.

Tears pouring from his eyes, coughing like his lungs want to come out, he had a face and a posture of a man who just got waterboarded with some sort of chilly sauce. Other guy looked surprised until he caught a wink from me, but David Spade and the rest of the crew, now roaring with laughter about his misery, suspected nothing.

They got their shots on the house, poor dude was left alone, and David was a good boy for the rest of the night, defeatedly enduring small mockery from his fellows.

Now, I may have used my powers in a wrong way, but this is the first and only time I messed with customers’ drinks. And I regret nothing. He was rude, aggressive even, to everyone around him. Screw you, sporty David Spade.”

11. EITHER BE FIRED OR ACCEPT A MASSIVE PAY CUT? OK, I’LL BE FIRED

“I worked for Company for 14 years. I loved working there for 12 of those years. There were 2 main parts to the job. The first part was the ‘sales’ side of things. This was away from the office, in the customer’s location. This involved quite a bit of driving (and on a couple of occasions flying abroad) to work face to face with the customers to deliver a high quality product.

We weren’t the cheapest, but we were the superior product. And I was the best employee when it came to delivering the product. I consistently got rave reviews from customers for my personal style when it came to delivering the product and executing the customer’s vision. I got a huge amount of repeat business and I got a lot of new business through word of mouth with customers recommending the company based on their experiences with me.

The second part was the office side. This was my weaker side. I hated cold calling ‘potential customers’ with numbers I found in the phone book. When it came to answering the phone and speaking to potential customers who initiated contact with us I was fine! But I wasn’t great at making the calls. This was my only real not-great part of my job.

So, in the office I wasn’t asked to make any calls.

Instead I prepared product. Designed new product. Trained new staff members (ended up being one of the biggest parts of my job). I was also the problem solver, helping out whenever and wherever. Filling in for sick employees whenever I could.

I liked the owner and I liked the manager. I liked all the staff who were around me. All in all it was a great job that I was really good at and took pride in.

The company had been doing so well that the owner had slowly expanded over the 12 years since I started working for Company. I had joined about 3 months after he started, so I’d been a part of this expansion. I worked out of my nearest office but often traveled to other areas to train their staff. I was ‘loaned out’ as it were to other companies to help train their staff.

At one point I was a guest lecturer at a University teaching medical students how to deliver complicated explanations to people who don’t have the base knowledge that you yourself do.

After 12 years, I was on a decent salary. Not massive, but I was happy. Then the owner decided to sell off part of the company. He was selling the area where my local office was.

He told me he would love for me to remain as his employee, but I would need to work from a different office. This was either require to move, or to quadruple (at a minimum) my daily commute. The other option was to remain working from my current office but with a new boss. I chose the second option.

Before the new owner bought the company she worked alongside the staff for a couple of weeks to see how we operated. This was before any of us knew she was about to buy the company.

As far as we knew she was just another employee, and she was shadowing us to learn. She came with me on assignments in the field and saw my abilities.

When the sale was announced and we were informed that she was the new owner, everyone was very surprised. She made some sweeping staffing changes. The manager left to start her own business since the new owner was also going to be the manager.

A lot of staff were let go. The secretary, myself, and a couple of newer hires were kept on. The new hires were on the lowest wages (not salaries). Anyone who had got to a decent level was let go. Since almost everyone was on a zero-hours contract, she was able to do this.

Whilst technically it was a ‘new company’ for the customers it was the same old business.

The company still had the same trading name. The only real difference was that there was a new owner and the registered business name was now different. As far as the customers were concerned nothing had changed.

My job for the first few months after the sale was to train up the remaining staff to replace the more experienced staff members who had been let go.

I recommended a couple of new hires who I had experience working with in the past. I was open and honest with the owner, and let her know that one of them was a close friend and one of them was my partner. Both were more than qualified for the work and both were happy to join. My friend had recently come back to the country after a year of traveling, whilst my partner could only work during school holidays (worked in a school).

The owner gave them both interviews and then hired them since we needed the staff.

Over the next 2 years, business started to fall. The reason was simple: The new owner decided to try and maximize profits by increasing prices whilst decreasing the quality of the product. For new customers, this wasn’t noticeable. They just thought we were expensive and the product wasn’t the best. But for old customers who had been with us for 10+ years, they immediately noticed. They were being charged more and were receiving less/worse quality.

So the owner doubled down and increased prices again. 95% of our old customers left us. New customers almost never became repeat customers. Complaints skyrocketed.

Whilst all this was going on our staff turnover rate was ridiculous. People left after a few months when they realized that the minimum wage they were being paid wasn’t worth it. Under the old owner, the average hourly wage for new employees was around 2.5x the minimum wage.

This made people care about their jobs and want to keep them. My partner quit. My friend remained, but was looking for something new.

Then I got a phone call. The owner needed me to come to the office. This was unexpected. I had just finished working on location with a customer. My next customer was in 2 and a half hours. It was a half-hour drive away.

The office was about an hour and 10 minutes away from both locations. If I drove back to the office I would have about 5 minutes in the office before leaving. My mileage was paid above my regular salary, so I was saving the company by doing this. Also, parking was a nightmare around the second location, so I intended to get there as early as possible to find parking, then read a book.

The manager didn’t care. She needed me to return to the office. So I did. I arrived back to be handed a letter by the owner. It was informing me of a disciplinary meeting to take place in a couple of days’ time. I could bring a ‘witness’ along if I so desired.

This knocked me for 6. I was the best employee. I read through her list of complaints about my performance and started working on my defense.

At the meeting, I declined to have a witness. Instead, I decided to record the audio of the entire meeting on my phone without informing her. Where I live this is legal and I didn’t need consent. The boss’ witness was her friend who she had met at Yoga and hired for an office role, firing the secretary who had been there long before the takeover.

Every point she raised I could counter. They ranged from the weak:

‘You were unavailable to work for a week in August.’

‘I booked a week’s holiday so I could attend my cousin’s wedding on the other side of the country and turn it into a holiday.’

To the pathetic:

‘You were late for work on the 12th of May.’

‘Is that the day my car broke down and I called the office to let you know?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I do. Here’s the receipt from the garage, May 12th.’

To the downright lies. This one I can’t write as a quote. Basically, she accused me of gross misconduct for breaking health and safety laws in the way I was delivering a product for a customer. I hadn’t broken health and safety laws. I knew exactly what I was doing since, as I’ve mentioned already, I had been doing this for 14 years at this point.

She had witnessed me do this on multiple occasions and had never mentioned it before. Because it wasn’t an issue. She even had me train staff in this specific delivery method. Because it wasn’t an issue.

She finished her list by telling me that she doesn’t want to lose me, but she can’t justify keeping such a poor employee at my current salary. I had 2 choices: I could either sign a zero-hours contract and work for minimum wage, or she could fire me with 2 weeks notice.

I countered that she would have to give me 12 weeks’ notice, since my contract guaranteed me 1 week’s notice for every year of employment, up to a maximum of 12. She argued that I had only been her employee for 2 years, since before then I worked for the previous owner. I informed her that with how the business takeover had run, it counts as continuous employment. I quoted the exact law and code that backed me up.

She asked for a 30-minute break in the meeting to ‘let me think about her offer’. She went to call her lawyer.

When she came back she informed me that since she was firing me for gross misconduct, she didn’t have to give me any notice at all. If I wanted to remain and move to the zero-hours contract, I could do that today. But if I didn’t then she would have to fire me.

But because she was nice she would give me the 2 weeks’ notice. I asked for a couple of hours to go home and think about this. She allowed this.

I knew the reason she wanted me to remain for at least 2 weeks was that one of our few remaining bigger customers was set to have a product delivery from me in that time. They would only work with me.

The owner had tried sending other staff in my place on several occasions, and each time there had been problems. It wasn’t the staff’s fault. It was just a very difficult delivery for a very specific customer which needed to be perfect. As a result, this customer would only deal with me.

I called the office and spoke to the owner. I declined the offer of a zero hours contract and said I would be leaving.

She then said she was giving me my 2 weeks notice. I declined her offer of 2 weeks’ notice. I informed her that if I was being fired for gross misconduct then surely I cannot be relied upon to safely deliver the product. Therefore it would be best for everyone involved if I didn’t return to work. She panicked and said that she needed me for those 2 weeks.

I feigned ignorance and let her know that I was just thinking about what’s best for the company. After all, you can’t have unsafe staff delivering your product to your customers. However, if she wanted to rethink the ‘gross misconduct’ accusation then I would work my 12 weeks notice. They were her options. 0 weeks or 12. She chose 12.

For those 12 weeks, I worked the same way I had for 14 years.

I didn’t coast. I didn’t slack. I didn’t badmouth the company on my way out. I continued to train new staff. I continued to deliver the product in my own, personal, exceptional way. I also got in touch with a lawyer who was a specialist in employment law.

For those 12 weeks, the Owner barely spoke to me. She resented the fact that I knew my legal rights and didn’t just believe her lies.

She hated the fact that I could defend myself. She was petty. She accidentally dropped my mug in the kitchen, breaking it. Most petty of all, she paid for every member of staff in the office to have a spa day… except me. I was asked to work my day off to answer the phones whilst everyone else was being pampered. Nobody knew I hadn’t been invited until they arrived at the spa and I wasn’t there.

Here’s the thing; I’m a big fat bearded guy. I have no interest in a spa day. If she had offered it to me I would have thanked her and declined the kind offer. But by pointedly excluding me she was making herself look terrible. For the last 2 weeks, I was training up my friend to basically take over from me.

At the end of the 12 weeks, my final day came around.

The owner had nothing planned. Not so much as a card after 14 years (2 for her). The office assistant manager who had become a friend had got me some presents but had to give them to me once the boss was gone, for fear of reprisals.

The day after my final day 2 things happened. The first was my friend who I had been training up to replace me quit.

He was on a zero-hours contract so required no notice. He was unhappy with her treatment of me and was unhappy that she expected him to do my (previously salaried) job for minimum wage. He hadn’t informed me of his plans to leave, and I only learned of it when he knocked on my door in the middle of the day when he should have been at work to let me know.

The second was the owner received a letter informing her that I was bringing legal proceedings against her for unfair dismissal. I had arranged this with my lawyer to be delivered the day after my final day. According to the office assistant, she went pale and started crying, before leaving the office to call her lawyer.

She refuted my claims for unfair dismissal. Said it was gross misconduct.

Tried to come up with some more reasons for firing me. But the truth was that the company was making less because of her business practices, and I was the highest (and only) salary. I had evidence that I was a great employee. I had evidence that she asked me to move to a zero-hours contract. She initially tried to deny this, since the ‘gross misconduct’ fabrication makes no sense if she wanted me to stay.

But once my lawyer provided hers with a transcript of the entire meeting along with a copy of the recording, she knew she was screwed. Still, she let the case drag on for over a year. I think she hoped that the legal fees would lead to me dropping the case. Little did she know my lawyer was working on a no-win no-fee basis, whilst hers wasn’t.

She ended up settling out of court.

The aftermath:

The office assistant who had become a friend quit a couple of months after I left. She hated how I was treated and didn’t feel safe working for such an untrustworthy boss.

Several former customers contacted me personally to enquire why I was no longer with the company. Apparently, the owner was telling them that I just quit.

I informed them that I had been fired for cost-cutting reasons. They moved their business elsewhere. Several offered me jobs. One went so far as to offer me a part-time job and to pay for me to attend college to earn a degree required for them to hire me full time. This was a lovely offer, but they were one of the customers who were a bit too far away to commute, and I wasn’t ready to move.

In the end, I found a new job in a different industry where a lot of my skills transferred over. Currently earning more than I was, working fewer hours, and for better owners.

The business is floundering. The viral respiratory illness left the new owner desperate for cash. She canceled orders but refused to refund customers, citing an ‘act of god’ clause in the contracts.

The business’ social media and Google reviews have tanked. Most staff left. The business is still afloat, but barely.”

10. DIVORCE ME WHILE I AM SICK? THAT’S FINE, ENJOY BEING SINGLE

“Not my story, but a family friend’s story. I knew this lovely German lady who I will call Heidi. She was married to an Israeli man who I’ll call Doorknob.

Doorknob was a jerk for a number of reasons. He worked with my dad in IT who said he had a hero complex where he would cause disasters at work and then try to be the hero and “save the day.” We even suspect he caused a huge IT disaster at our national airport while he was working there. He was also really creepy, he creeped on my younger sister, calling her randomly and asking to pick her up.

He was the exact opposite of his wife who was lovely and sweet and charismatic and I have no idea how they ended up together.

Unfortunately, a while after we made friends with them, Heidi got very sick. Her colon stopped working, she almost died. Thankfully she was in a country with stellar healthcare that saved her life, but she found out she has Crohn’s disease, and she had to get a colostomy bag.

While she was recovering from her surgery, Doorknobannounced he wanted to divorce. His words were, and I quote, “I didn’t marry a sick woman.” Frigging jerk.

He left her high and dry, and very soon was seeing someone else. He lost all the friends he had made in our country with his awful behavior, my family told him he was no longer welcome near us as we were there for Heidi.

He finally screwed off back to Israel, apparently, he had got into quite a bit of debt while in my country, and skipped off to avoid paying. Good riddance we all said.

Heidi found her feet eventually. She took up photography, and went to university to study it. She did very well for herself, and lived a happy life free from Doorknob. After about a year, Doorknob contacted Heidi and she told us all about it.

Apparently, he was trying to sweet-talk her into going over to Israel to go through with the divorce proceedings. According to Heidi, your marital status is on your identity card in Israel, and it’s one of the first things a girl asks to see when you go on a date. When the girls saw he was married on his card, they’d never go for a second date.

So every time he’d call her asking when she was coming over, she’d put a huge crap-eating grin on and reply, “Ohhh, I don’t know, I’m not really in a position to fly with my condition and all. Maybe when I get better.” She knew full well he won’t set foot back here because his creditors were still looking for him.

She would just relish in the knowledge that he was getting rejected by all those women he was pursuing in Israel while she chilled with us having a great time.

Heidi is doing much better now, she went back to Germany, though still visits my family and her friends from time to time. She’s still her awesome self.

I don’t know what Doorknob is up to now, but I suspect after all these years he is still a doorknob.”

9. LEAVE THE FIRE ALARM RUNNING FOR DAYS? I KNOW WHO TO CALL

“Background: I’m a real estate developer and investor, and I own/manage several mid-size multi-family rental properties. I’m aggressive with rents, but I love the construction side of the business and take great pride in keeping my properties in excellent condition. I also ensure my staff provides top notch customer service – I never understood why property managers don’t have the same attitude towards customer service as hoteliers.

Anyways…

One of my friends lives in a building owned by a very “traditional” landlord. A grumpy old lady bangs on the door to collect rent every month, things don’t get fixed unless you threaten to file a dispute, and in general everything is fixed as cheaply as possible.

My friend called me last week and said her fire alarm has been going off since 3 am.

Not the fire alarm actually, but the warning tone on the annunciator panel – this is the device that receives inputs from heat detectors, smoke detectors, etc all around the building and monitors and provides power and battery backup. This panel was apparently detecting a fault, and sounding the warning tone. This isn’t the fire alarm, but it sounds like a loud smoke detector going off.

It cannot be silenced until it is serviced.

In my buildings, they occasionally do go off (every few years) and, as with everything else, my staff must attend within 1/2 hour and in this case, appropriate action would be to call the fire safety contractor for an emergency service call.

My friend’s landlord informed her that the contractor had been called, but it was not an emergency so they would be there in 4 days.

4 days of this alarm going off 24/7 constantly. No sleep for anyone.

This was likely to avoid the overtime surcharge for an emergency service. Or about $150.

But, the manager was kind enough to wrap the panel in several towels with packing tape, to slightly muffle the alarm. He made a half-hearted attempt to silence it by pulling the leads off the backup battery. Since the device is hard-wired, this just doubled the frequency of the alarm to include a “backup battery warning.”

I grabbed by panel keys, and went over to see if I could help my friend out.

I was able to open the panel, since I have keys for my own, and they are the same. The battery leads had been pulled off, but the main was still connected, so the beeper was going off like crazy. The manager didn’t know enough to turn off the breaker in the electrical room, and I couldn’t access it.

The manager didn’t answer the phone.

Upon opening the panel, I saw immediately why it had been failing on and off for years (according to my friend) – the batteries were 10 years out of date, and the leads on the terminals were blackened. It looked like the landlord had been swapping out the old batteries with new ones for the yearly inspection, then putting the old ones back in and maybe returning the new batteries for a refund.

Now I realized why the service call was scheduled so late – so the LL could get some temporary “new” batteries put in time.

Now, I’m a licensed property manager, but not an electrician, so it would be unethical for me to remove the hot lead from the bus bar and silence the alarm, BUT low voltage wiring is a different story. Unfortunately, my insulated screwdriver slipped as I was tightening the battery lead back on, and I accidentally bridged the hot side of the bus bar with the low voltage side of the circuit board.

Luckily, my eyes were averted to avoid arcing injury. 120V right to the control board. Ouch. A big flash, breaker tripped somewhere, and silence. The circuit board was toast – the service tech would have to install a new panel with new batteries.

My friend contacted the landlord and reported that something had happened, and the panel was silenced. Also, did he intend to provide a 24-hour firewatch until such time as the fire alarm system is fully functional as required by section 6 of the Fire Code?

He affirmed that he did not, and that she could fudge off.

Her next call was to the assistant chief fire inspector since she happened to have his business card handy. His response was much more gracious – he was happy to provide the necessary firewatch and contacted the landlord to inform him of the fact. The fireman’s union is a strong one, and their hourly rate for emergency services like this is comparable to a mid-town Manhattan law firm.

I’m told the bill reached $3,000 before the landlord called the service tech to replace the annunciator panel. I’d like to say he also paid the $5,000 fine, but I understand he is fighting that in court.

In the meantime, the building sleeps peacefully with a fully functional and up to date fire alarm.”

8. MY APPOINTMENT WAS CANCELED FOR BEING 5 MINUTES LATE? I GUESS I HAVE TO RESCHEDULE

“This happened about 4 years ago, when I got a summer job at my university. The job was working for professors that I had worked with before, and they asked me last-minute to teach a summer workshop to 9th and 10th graders.

So with less than 2 weeks before the camp starts I have a bunch of paperwork to do first, including “clearances” that say I can work with kids. One of these is an official FBI check for which they need my fingerprints. Well, I needed to do the physical fingerprinting right away in order to get the result in time – luckily I was able to book a fingerprinting appointment for that Friday (booked 24 hours in advance, as required) which would be just barely enough time to get the result.

That Friday I catch the subway to campus and it’s atrociously slow (I’ll admit I should have planned for this – the subway here is always behind). Anyway, I end up slightly late getting to campus so I literally run to the police station, and enter the front room at EXACLTY 5 minutes after my appointment time. I know this because, as I stepped through the door, I felt my phone buzz with what turned out to be a ‘Your appointment has been cancelled’ email.

I speak to the security/cop behind bulletproof glass inside and I learn the appt was canceled after he checks my confirmation number. Apparently, they are automatically canceled if you’re not checked in within 5 minutes. Obviously, this is outrageous, but I’m usually a patient guy: I ask if I can book a new appointment. That’s no good since it would have to be Monday or later.

So I grab a coffee from across the street and return to sit inside the police station, to try and solve this with some Googling while I slip into a more and more frantic state of frustration. I can’t find anywhere in the city that can fingerprint me before Monday.

But here’s what really pushed me over the edge. While I’m sitting there, at this point 30 minutes past my appointment time, someone else comes in for fingerprints.

She shows up 5 minutes early. They take her in immediately, and she’s out BEFORE her appointment was even scheduled to begin. The entire thing took her about 2 minutes. I point out to the cop behind the glass (as politely as I can) that CLEARLY someone could see me RIGHT NOW because her appointment is already over. Why can’t I have the current slot? But, the cop insists that since my appointment was canceled, my registration info was ‘no longer in the system’ and I can’t be seen today.

That’s when the idea comes to me and I confirm with him that showing up early is not a problem, because they would have my appt and registration info in the system. You see where I’m going with this.

So I quietly sit back down and take out my phone. About 10 minutes later, I calmly approach him again and say ‘Hello, I have a new appointment to be fingerprinted. I’m about 72 hours early.’

I have never seen such an exasperated sigh in my life. But he checked my new confirmation number and everything was in order. Within 10 minutes, I was walking back out after getting fingerprinted.”

7. MANAGER FORCED ME TO GET A DOCTOR’S NOTE DESPITE IT BEING ILLEGAL, DOCTOR SIGNS ME OFF FOR TWO WEEKS

“When I was in my early twenties, I worked at a supermarket. I should note that I was a pretty reliable employee. I was never late, in fact, I often got in early, and I rarely called in sick. At the time this happened, I had not called in sick for 9 months, and even then, the manager had sent me home.

I had been up all night, swinging between burning hot and freezing cold so I was obviously feverish, and I had been throwing up ‘at both ends’ shall we say. At one point at about 2 am I was on the toilet, with my head in the sink, utterly miserable. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew I was lifting my head off the sink and it was 7 am.

I was due to start work at 12 that day but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.

So I called up the manager. Let’s call the manager Steve. Steve was known for being a real a-hole. He never believed anyone who called in sick except his best buds (usually other managers, never lowly staff), but often called in sick himself (a lot of the time we knew it was because he was hungover and not actually sick).

The conversation went as follows:

Me: ‘Hey Steve, sorry, I can’t come in. I’m sick.’

Steve: ‘With what?’

Me: ‘I don’t know. I think it might be the flu. I’ve been up all night being sick, and I have a fever.’

Steve: ‘Don’t be stupid. If you had the flu you’d be completely knocked out. I need you in. Come in or you’re fired.’

Me: ‘I can’t. I just told you I can’t stop vomiting. I passed out.’

Steve: (growling angrily) ‘Either come in or bring a doctor’s note, or you’re fired!’

In the UK, you are legally allowed to self-certify for 5 days. This means you can tell your employer you are sick and you do not need a doctor’s note. If you’re sick for more than 5 days, you then need a note.

It is also illegal to demand a doctor’s note during the self-certify period.

I knew this, but I was terrified. This was during the recession. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. So I got myself dressed. Almost passed out trying to do so. Then trudged to the doctor’s some 25 minutes walk away.

I end up sitting in the doctor’s office for a little over an hour, which for walk-in was pretty good.

I get in to see the doctor and she is furious at me for coming in. You’re not supposed to come to the doctors when you have a cold or flu, and of course, I knew I should be able to self-certify. She told me as such, saying I shouldn’t be here and should have stayed at home.

I then explained what had happened with Steve and how he had threatened to fire me over this and I couldn’t afford to lose my job – I was struggling as it was.

My doctor turned her anger toward my manager. She asked if I got sick pay from the company, and I said yes.

‘He wants a sick note does he,’ the doctor says. ‘Okay. I’ll give him a sick note.’

Now, my manager just wanted a note confirming I was sick, but instead, my doctor wrote something along the lines of this:

‘[My Name] has come to the surgery because [manager name] has insisted she come in, in spite of the fact that this is illegal and all employees are allowed to self certify.

Due to being forced to make this unnecessary and highly dangerous trip when the patient is ill, has a fever of 39°C, and almost passed out in the waiting room, I am signing [my name] off for two full weeks to recover. Had [my name] been allowed to self-certify as is the law, they might only have needed a few days, but due to straining themselves, they now require two full weeks.

They are not to be permitted to work until [date 2 weeks later]’

The doctor said she would have signed me off longer but this was the longest she could do without requiring further evidence. So basically, instead of just being off for a few days, I was now signed off for a full two weeks, and I’d be paid for it.

I went to my place of work, at which point one of the duty managers saw me and asked me what the heck I was doing here, go home, I was obviously very unwell.

I explained what happened. They agreed to help me downstairs to Steve’s office and went with me inside.

I handed Steve the note. He looked worried and tried to say ‘I wasn’t being serious about firing you.’

Well gee, when you angrily growled it down the phone it sure sounded like it.

The duty manager then declared that they were going to drive me home.

It was clear Steve wanted to argue but had the sense to know he shouldn’t.

The duty manager then drove me home, made sure I was okay, then went back to work where they informed our union rep of what had happened.

Steve had a disciplinary hearing where he was given a severe reprimand and a warning. Steve tried to argue he never said I’d be fired and I was lying and just decided to go to the doctors, but the duty manager said they heard him admit to it when he said to me that he really didn’t mean it.

I felt better after a few days, and enjoyed my two weeks off, fully paid, and enjoyed the nice weather we had. Meanwhile, Steve was forced to work overtime because we were short-staffed. So thanks to the doctor, instead of being off for a few days, I ended up getting a nice two-week paid vacation, and Steve was given a final warning, all because he insisted I get a doctor’s note.”

6. POLICE OFFICER ATTEMPTED TO INTIMIDATE MY PATIENT, BUT HE LOST HIS FIGHT TO PARAMEDICS

“I’m a paramedic. A few months ago, we’re coming back from a routine patient transfer when at an intersection about four blocks from the base, I notice a woman sitting on the side of the road with her arms wrapped around herself and her head down.

I nudge my partner who’s driving, and we flip on the lights and I see her head come up real fast, and she looks terrified. I get out and she relaxes when she sees the ambulance. After I approach, I notice bruising on her wrists and other similar signs of domestic harassment.

She seems hesitant to get up off the curb and into the ambulance, so I decided that I would at least pull the cot out of the back and give her something a little more comfortable than concrete to sit on.

Now a few important details. All the cots in my service are Stryker powered cots. You’ve almost certainly seen these before. They’re bright yellow with black handles and side panels. These cots have a motor and battery built in to allow us to raise and lower the cot at the touch of a button instead of throwing out our backs having to physically lift the cot up after loading someone.

They’re usually paired with an automatic loading system built into the ambulance that lifts the cot up to the right height to be pushed inside and also secures the cot when loaded. There’s a little red tab at the end of the track, just inside the doors, that you press down to free the cot and allow it to slide out. When you press this tab, it simply releases the cot and the loading carriage it’s connected to and it’s up to you to keep it under control until it reaches the unload position and locks into place again.

This can be problematic because these cots weigh about 125 pounds, about 55kg.

As soon as I hit the release tab for the cot, I hear lights and sirens behind me. It’s a city police car, which is weird because we had not yet requested police, and we were outside the city, in the sheriff’s department jurisdiction. We merely informed dispatch that we were stopping to check on a woman at such and such intersection.

The woman says something along the lines of “oh god he’s here” and moves faster than me seeing free food being distributed at base. She dashes past me and pretty much hurls herself into the ambulance, sitting on the bench seat. The cop is approaching and he’s ticked off. I put two and two together and slam the ambulance doors shut. Let’s call this officer Police Officer Steve, or POS for short.

POS: ‘Is that bi-Is she in there?!’

Me: ‘Who?’

POS: ‘You know darn well who I am talking about.’

Me: ‘You mean my patient? I’m afraid I haven’t gotten a name yet.’

POS: ‘Open those doors, I need to talk to her.’

Me: ‘You’re not using my rig as an interview room. You can talk to her at the hospital.’

We go back and forth like this for a few minutes, my partner at some point came back to see what the hold up was, but overhead my stonewalling and went back to the cab to call our chief. I continue my routine of deny and delay until a pair of deputies (likely specifically requested for this by the chief) arrive. Oh good, now I have witnesses.

See, we had stopped on an upwards incline. I had hit the release tab on the cot and it wanted to slide back. I had to close the doors so swiftly, I didn’t bother pushing the cot back against the stops and locking it in place.

Emboldened by the presence of two deputies, he gets in my face. ‘Get out of my way or I’m gonna have to charged with obstruction!’

Okay. I step out of his way, and he opens the double doors. Between the cot, the monitor, and the jump bag, I’d say there was probably close to 160 pounds contained by those doors. All of which comes barreling out and hits POS square in the chest. He goes backwards and falls on his butt One of the deputies laughs aloud. The other walks up and kneels down beside the guy.

He says ‘Your shift captain is going be here in five, I wouldn’t be here then if I were you.’ POS gathers himself up and scowls at me, then stomps off.

There is a limited amount that I can say about the aftermath as the trial is not settled yet, but we all know how well charges stick to cops. The woman is now living elsewhere, the cop is still a cop, and I have been getting pulled over at least twice a week ever since then.

But the video footage of him getting body-checked by that cot remains one of the best things I have seen.”

5. SEND THREE YEARS OF COMPLETE FINANCIALS? AS YOU WISH

“This happened several years ago when my ex and I were going through a heated divorce/custody battle. While we were married, we had a couple of conversations about how rich people hide their assets to avoid paying taxes. I’ve never had enough assets to do this, but she somehow got the idea that I was and told her attorney that I was laundering and hiding income.

It was more likely the heat of the moment as divorce/custody battles often come down to. I couldn’t even afford my own attorney so I represented myself.

Her lawyer wasn’t a total jerk, but he clearly was out to get me, and he talked down to me like I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air. One day, I get a letter in the mail from him requesting an updated income declarations form and 3 years of financials.

It had a long list of things to include.

I own a communications tech company that was in super startup phase back then. was already tight. I was trying to get this business off the ground with no financing, I was finishing my MBA with scholarships and loans, so paying for copies and postage or driving this 30 miles to his office meant eating peanut butter and saltines for a week.

So I called him to explain my situation. He all but called me a liar and didn’t believe I couldn’t afford it.

I was put off by that, and I said this was taking time away from business I needed to handle. To which he replied (and I’ll never forget this), ‘Well, according to your income declarations, you’re not that busy. What do you do all day?’ He then said if he didn’t get these documents, he would consider my previous filings as fraudulent tell the judge, contact the DA, and also alert the state tax agency and IRS.

Probably an empty threat, but I’m no lawyer.

Efax is one of the services my company provides, and at this time it was relatively unknown. So I asked him if he has a fax machine. He said he had a fax/scanner/copier device, then said what law office doesn’t have a fax machine? And I suddenly got an idea. Okay, I said to him, I’ll put together and fax whatever I can.

Okay, moron. You want 3 years of financials? You got it.

I scanned-to-PDF every receipt I could find. McDonald’s receipt from 5 years ago? Screw it, won’t hurt to include it. CVS receipt? It’s 3 miles long, perfect. They get the $1 off toothpaste coupons too.

I downloaded every bank statement, credit card statement, purchase orders from vendors, and every invoice I sent to clients. I printed to PDF the entire 3 year accounting journal, monthly/quarterly/annual balance sheets, flow statements, P & L’s.

Not only did I PDF 3 years of tax filings, but every single letter I received from the IRS and state tax agency, including the inserts advising me of my rights. It took awhile, but I was a few days ahead of the deadline!

I made a cover page black background with white lettering. Wherever I could, I included separator pages in all caps in the biggest, boldest font that would fit on the page in landscape: 20XX RECEIPTS, 20XX TAXES, etc. I merged everything into a single 150+ page compressed PDF and sent the document using my Efax system.

Every hour or so, I received a status email saying the fax failed. Huh, that’s weird. Well, they’re getting this document. So I changed the system configuration to unlimited retries after failures to keep redialing until it went through. Weird, I was still getting status email failures. I’ll delete the failure emails and keep the success one after it eventually goes through, I thought. Problem solved.

Two days later, a lady from his office called and asked me to stop sending the fax. Their fax/scanner/printer/copier had been printing non-stop. It kept getting paper jams, kept running out of ink and they had to keep shutting it off and back on to print.

I explained that her boss told me to send this by the deadline or else he would call the DA and IRS.

Since I didn’t want a call from the DA or the IRS, I would keep sending until I get a successful confirmation. I suggested they just not print until my fax completes, but she didn’t like that.

She asked me to email the documents, and I told a little white lie that my email wouldn’t allow an attachment that big. Unless her boss in writing agreed to cancel the request or agree to reimburse me for my costs to print and ship, I said I would continue to fax until they confirm they have received every page.

She put me on hold, and the attorney gets on the line. He said forget sending the financials. I said that I would need this in writing, so I will keep sending the fax until he sent that to me. He asked me to stop faxing and he would send it in writing, and I said send it in writing first and then I’ll stop.

Long moment of silence… click.

About 20 minutes later, I received an email from his assistant with an attached, signed letter in PDF that I no longer needed to provide financials. The letter then threatened to pursue sanctions in court or sue me for interfering with their business. Every time I saw him after that, the lawyer never brought up sanctions, lawsuits, criminal referrals, or financials again.”

4. BOSS TOLD ME NOT TO GIVE OUT THE BATHROOM CODE, SO I DENIED A POLICE OFFICER

“So I was working at Subway a few years ago and a man came in with his wife and two children. I had all four sandwiches started when the man asked me for the code to the bathroom. The policy was you had to make a purchase to get the bathroom code, but by the way he was doing the Potty dance, it was pretty apparent this guy needed to go.

Obviously, either he or his wife will pay for the four sandwiches I’ve already started.

The next day, my boss sits me down and lectures me about how the code is on the receipt for a reason. She watched the tape and see me give the man the code and tells me, ‘I don’t care who it’s for. Whether it’s your friend, family, whatever, you name it, you do NOT give it the code under any circumstances.’

Later on that night, I was working by myself when some guy in a trench coat and greasy long hair came in the side door and said, “Hey man, somebody got seriously messed up outside.’ A long line of customers waited for me while I subtly grabbed the bread knife (sharp as heck) and went around to check. It wasn’t the best part of town, so you never know with people.

Anyways, as trench coat man stated, someone was seriously messed up outside. His face was all bloody and he was just a mess. I called 911 and went back to making sandwiches.

Sometime later, a few cop cars and an ambulance showed up. They were doing their business outside and then one of the officers comes in and asks for the bathroom code. Like six hours earlier, my boss told me not to give it ‘under any circumstances’ without a purchase.

I laughed a little and told him what I told all the other customers, ‘I’m sorry, you have to make a purchase first. You can get a cookie which is $0.?? and then it’ll be on the receipt.’ He didn’t realize the laugh was really at myself and how awkward of a situation he unknowingly put me in, nor did I have a chance to explain it before the laugh and the rejection of the bathroom code caused the cop to become straight up furious.

He gives me three warnings to give him the code. Each time I tell him I’m not going to give it to him and the customers are on my side telling him I’m just doing my job. After his third warning, he shook his head and muttered ‘I can’t believe you’re interfering with an ongoing investigation,’ and he uses the walkie on his shoulder to get some information.

About five minutes later, one of the cops handed me a phone. I answered and my manager said, ‘Are you serious???’ Long story short, the cop got the bathroom code and a free bag of chips.”

3. MY STEP MOTHER WAS VILE, SO I RUINED HER WEDDING RECEPTION FOR FUN

“When I was 13, so eight years ago, my dad remarried, after divorcing my mom 4 years before. Before the divorce, his fiancée had been his mistress. My mom is completely better off without him, and ignoring the fact that I wouldn’t exist, I don’t think she should have married him in the first place.

Even if I think my parents weren’t a good match, that’s no excuse to be unfaithful to your wife.

This woman was vile in all sorts of ways. She constantly belittled me, made fun of the fact I needed to take pills for my mental illness (despite being a pharmacist? I don’t get it either), and was generally awful to me and my siblings.

But she was a decade younger than my dad and reasonably hot, so he didn’t give a crap how she treated us. The one time he actually listened to us about her is when they were thinking of having a baby and my brother said he’d ask our mom to sue for full custody of us if they did.

So anyway, they got married. I was a bridesmaid, cause that witch had no real friends.

(The other two bridesmaids were her sister and my sister.) My brother was the best man, cause she didn’t like my dad’s best friend. He and my dad still don’t talk to this day, even though the guy was like an uncle to me as a little kid. It was a wedding, everything went normally.

But at the beginning of the reception, before the first dance, we were taking pictures in front of a chocolate fountain, looking like the happy family we never were and would never be.

I’m on the autism spectrum, and have a problem maintaining eye contact. This extends to looking at a camera. So when we had to retake a photo because I wasn’t looking, she leans down and whispers something in my ear. I’m not going to repeat it, but it was a mean word. I don’t like saying it.

Anyway, I kind of snapped and decided she was gonna pay for this.

No one noticed (or at least no one called me out) when I started slowly moving the chocolate fountain towards the edge of the table. When it got to the edge, it makes contact with the back of that pure white wedding dress and slowly drips down. By the time she notices, it looks like she’s crapped herself. But for all anyone else knows, this was an accident.

She has no spare dress, and that stain is not coming out. So first dance, cutting the cake, speeches, everything, this woman has what looks like a crap stain on the back of her dress.

It was a small revenge, but it was so worth it. What’s supposed to be the happiest day of this stupid woman’s life, and she’s gonna remember that stain, every time she thinks about it.

They never did get the stain out. And nobody knew it was me. Until now, I guess. Hi family, if you’re reading this. Suzie, you’re an idiot and you deserved that chocolate stain.”

2. I TRICKED MY MOM INTO THINKING MY COOKING WAS GOOD

“I’ve been enrolled in a cooking school for over year and my mom, she’s never been supportive. Because I dropped out of a nursing program to get into a cooking school.

She’s always making snide comments about how I should’ve been a nurse or a lawyer, or how I’ll only ever be a subservient housewife with this, and when I do make something, she always criticizes it. Like she’s Gordon Ramsay or something ‘Oh, too much salt.’ ‘It’s undercooked.’ ‘It looks like crap’. Even though, pretty much everyone else says the opposite. She’s looking for any little thing she can critique about my cooking.

She keeps telling me I can’t cook and need to get into a real career.

I’ve cooked 3 course dinners for the family and they always get positive reviews, except for her. She had a party for her work friends, I made a whole tray of my specialty take on homemade meatballs (A recipe I conceptualized myself, my signature dish). Everyone kept going back and getting more, so many that they ran out.

I asked mom what she thought, she said ‘They were intoxicated, they couldn’t taste anything.’

So, I figured if I wanted to get her to compliment my cooking, I’d have to trick her. I cooked her a meal, one of her favorites from scratch, her biggest weakness that she can never resist. Dressed it up to look professional and put it in a generic To-Go Box and had my partner take a video of me preparing it, start to finish.

I called her and told her that my partner and I were eating at this diner (that doesn’t exist), made up a fake name for it and everything. I told her they had her favorite meal and asked if she wanted us to bring her one. Of course, she said yes. I brought the dish and told her more about the fake diner, she started eating it and complimented how good it was.

How she wanted to go there and get another one. After she was almost through with the meal, I asked her for her honest opinions, so we could write a review on Yelp. She went on for 10 minutes about how great it was and then I sprung it on her. That I cooked it.

Her tone changed. She put the fork down and said she was lying, that it tasted like crap.

My partner showed her the video, she Googled the restaurant and it didn’t show up. She started pointing out flaws with the meal, like how there was too much sauce and it was really spicy and burned her mouth. I asked her why she almost finished the whole thing if it was so spicy. She didn’t say anything, so I just asked her if she was ready to admit it.

She said no, so we left but I spotted her eating it from the other room, I asked her again and she laughed and finally told me yes. That I’m a good chef.

So, after a year of doubting I was a good chef and holding my dreams back, she finally admitted it.”

1. PAYING WITH PENNIES? LET ME RECOUNT THEM AGAIN

“Seriously. 4 years ago, I’m cashiering at a whacky mart on a register that holds all the smokes and booze. It’s 10pm and these two young men (early 20s) come up to the counter. They have three random novelty items (I don’t remember what they were), but it was strange and unusual to get odd items this late at night. Maybe it was for some fraternity, I don’t know.

It’s a college town so I get weird stuff from frats a lot. I scan the items and tell them their total is $22.xx.

Grinning at each other, they reach into their jackets and slam down two gallon zip-lock bags, full of only pennies. I stare them in the eye, but they didn’t even look back at me. Everyone else in line groan and went to other registers.

These two kids knew what they were doing, but they didn’t know what they were in for because I prepared for this; I knew this was going to inevitably happen. I grinned with them, because I was gonna get paid during this. These pranksters are here for recreation. This convo occurs between Me, Ringleader (the other guy was silent and awkward), and a friendly coworker of mine.

Me: ‘Is this $22.xx?’

Ringleader: …

Me: ‘Did you count it?’

Ringleader: ‘Nope.’

Me: ‘Are you going to?’

Ringleader: ‘Nope.’

Me: ‘Is it at least $22.xx?’

Ringleader: ‘Don’t know.’

Me: ‘Nice.’

Coworker: ‘Hey! You guys can use the self checkout. It can take all of your coins at once.’

Me: ‘Oh, don’t worry about it Cowor-‘

Ringleader: ‘Nope, don’t trust them lady.’ (Partner laughs)

Coworker: ‘What? Why!?’

Ringleader: ‘Doesn’t count all your change right.’

Coworker: ‘I’ve used them before. It really works!’

Me: (to Coworker) ‘I got this.’

I unpacked the ziplocks and threw all the pennies on the counter. It was a beautiful, massive crap storm of a mess. And I dug in it. I was Frank in a dumpster in ‘It’s Always Sunny.’ The two, still averting my gaze, start chuckling as if they were taking away my dignity.

They whisper to each other “Dude oh my God,” “Dude yeah,” “Dude, hilarious.” I counted each penny, one by one. My coworker comes up to me.

Coworker: ‘Guess I’ll help you count this.’

Me: ‘Don’t worry about it.’

(She looks at me confused. Then she puts on her ‘get down to busy’ look.)

Coworker: ‘I got your back.’

Me: ‘Oh…ok.’

We worked up a system where we counted ten, put them in a pile, then with ten stacks of ten pennies we separated them, making $1 piles. We made progress slowly but surely. Some customers came to the line, but we advised them to get to another line. Some of them looked at us confused, but when they saw the counter full of pennies they understood.

Some decided to wait, but when they realized it wasn’t going to take just a few minutes they took their leave. Another register in the liquor department opened so it wasn’t too bad for other customers. We get to about $12 (about 10min in) until I “knocked” over the piles.

Coworker: ‘Neontonsil!’

Me: ‘Oops. Sorry.’

(Coworker looks at my grin. I give her a wink and tilt my head, motioning her to leave)

Coworker: ‘You know what, I think I better let you do this.’

Me: ‘Ha, alright.’

(Coworker leaves. I look at the two guys. They are absolutely stunned at the fallen piles of pennies.)

Me: (To Ringleader) ‘Yeah, I’m going to have to count all of this again.’

Ringleader: ‘….Ok.’

I started from zero. I count slower then ever, and made my way back up.

The duo is entirely silent. I get to about $7, when suddenly I say:

Me: ‘Drats. I lost count. I better start all over again.’

Ringleader: ‘Really?’

Me: ‘Oh yeah man.’

Ringleader: ‘Why!?’

Me: ‘I lost count, sir. I could be in trouble if my register doesn’t have the right amount of funds, and I don’t want to rip you off.’

Ringleader: …

It’s about an hour later. My manager walks past, looks at me. I smile at him, and he looks at the counter. He walks away without a word. I eventually count all the change and surprisingly they had only $18!

Me: ‘Hmm, I think that this is $18.’

(The duo has been dead silent. They look done for the night.)

Me: ‘I’ll recount it.’

I recounted it.

Me: ‘I think this is actually $19.xx.’

(Without a word, the Ringleader whips out a $5)

Me: ‘Seriously? You had funds?’

Ringleader: ‘Needed to get rid of my change.’

Me. ‘No problem. I’ll just recount this again. I want to make perfectly sure that this is $19, since I counted $18 the first time.’

Ringleader: ‘Are you kidding me?’

(I shake my head no, completely serious)
He takes out a $20 bill straight out of his pocket and throws it at me. My coworker gives the biggest WHAT THE HECK face. Internally, I die as well, because they were smart enough to have a backup plan. And the fact that he was touching his bill in his pocket the entire time kind of messed with me. I take the cash, do the transaction, give him his change, thanked him and wished him a good night.

The two start to put their pennies back in the ziplock bags and I didn’t help them at all. I watched them just as how they watched me. Lots of pennies dropped to the floor, but they didn’t care to pick them up. It looked like their souls were sucked out of them. It was past midnight and I clocked out way past when I was supposed to.

A lot of my coworkers gave me a thumbs up or told me good night. Even my manager told me ‘good job,’ the only two words he ever said to me. Went to bed at the dorms after such a great petty penny night and crashed.

Strange to say, but I’d love to count pennies again.”