Who doesn’t like a lil payback? These people share the time they pulled the greatest revenge on the people who most deserved it. Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Older Brother’s Car
“My friend and I were fishing at a local creek when my friend’s brother pulled up. Being the prick he normally was, he started throwing rocks in the creek to scare the fish, and then he threw my friend’s bike in the creek. We were 13 at the time, my friend ended up crying and I felt so bad. I jumped into the creek and got his bike out, told him we would get his brother back.
About a month later we were fishing again and it was the dead of summer. I told my friend today was the day we would get his brother back. We caught a carp, threw it up on the side of the bank, and left it there until we were done fishing. At the end of the night, we went back to his place where we saw his brother’s car sitting on the street. We took the carp, sliced it open, and threw it under the driver’s seat, and rolled his windows three-fourth up.
The next morning when we woke and left, I forgot about what we had done. Well until I rode past JT’s car and noticed the window was kind of black. I took a closer look to find it was covered in flies. I actually got scared because I did not expect a window caked with flies. By the time I got home I was laughing in tears because his brother was always such a prick to us.
Fast forward to baseball practice about three days later, my friend had a black eye but smiled at me when we made eye contact. His brother flipped out and ran into his house and punched him in the face. His mom flipped out on his brother, and his brother was grounded for the rest of summer. His mom said my friend would never do such a thing and he played along and acted as if he had no idea. Apparently the smell never really left the car.
We nicknamed his brother, ‘Lord of the Flies’.”
They Found Out His Little Secret
“Everyone has worked with someone they hated. I’ve never had a job where there wasn’t someone who made my life miserable, or whose very presence ticked me off. Usually, you just have to put up with them, but every once in a great while, you can get even.
‘Dave’ was a scumbag. Stoop-shouldered, balding, in his 50’s, Dave was a patronizing and irritating idiot. He’d been at IBM (International Business Machines Corporation) his whole career, and hated contractors. He thought they were bad for the company, so he made it his personal priority to mess with all of us. Nothing overt, but constant subtle pressure was put on everyone whose badge said ‘Contractor’ on it. He took every opportunity to send us on little errands, wouldn’t get back to us if we needed something, criticized anything we did, and generally made our lives miserable in a way that couldn’t be directly protested.
I was pretty good friends with the guy sharing the room with him, another full-time employee, ‘Robert’.
One day, Robert called me up and said, ‘We’re going for coffee.’
I replied, ‘Um, ok. Let me just finish up a few things.’
He said, ‘You don’t understand. We need coffee NOW!’
Right. I headed over to his office and he met me about halfway there. His eyes were shining with glee but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on until we had our coffee in the cafeteria. Once we finally had a table, he said, ‘Ok. Dave’s a fetish wrestler!’
I asked, ‘Huh?’
He claimed, ‘He’s a fetish wrestler!’
I said, ‘Dude, I’ve got nothing. What is a fetish wrestler?’
It turned out there were men who pay women to wrestle them into submission. Some of them did it as a sort of hobby and others were extremely serious about it. Dave was one of the latter. Several times a year, he’d tell his wife he was meeting up with old Army buddies but went to Fetish Wrestling conventions instead. They were highly organized, had rings set up for use, referees to score the matches, and everything. There were web pages devoted to the women who were available to wrestle and Dave’s favorite was a woman named ‘Red Robin’. She was a little tiny woman who was an absolute beast and he paid her thousands of dollars every time he’d go to one of these conventions for her to wrestle him for about 20 minutes per match. We went back to my office and pulled up Red Robin’s website.
I asked, ‘Why does he pay this woman to wrestle him? Are they having an affair?’
Robert replied, ‘He says no.’
I said, ‘Let me get this straight… Dave lies to his wife, flies out to California to have an ugly woman named Red Robin wrestle him into submission, pays her 400 dollars per match, and NOTHING is going on between them?’
He said, ‘Yep.’
I said, ‘Bull.’
I went on to the main wrestling site and started reading Dave’s posts. And there were a ton of them. He talked in great detail and depth about the ‘sport’, had invented his own move, called the ‘Twisted Ostrich’ and told stories about amazing matches he’d won and lost. Look, I’m all about people’s private lives remaining private, and I probably wouldn’t have done anything if he hadn’t so consistently been a prick to me. But he had, so game on! I registered a fake account under the name ‘Sue_Plex’ on the wrestling website and started corresponding with him.
I started by asking him some technical questions about the Twisted Ostrich, but it wasn’t long until he started asking me personal questions. As time went by, I fleshed out the character so within about a month he had become quite good friends with Miss Plex. I told him I was a late-20s single lawyer living in Washington D.C. My marriage had ended because my husband just didn’t understand my interest in such a harmless sport. It was so nice to talk to someone like him who really understood me.
It was unbelievably satisfying. Every time he’d send me on some stupid errand, I’d think of how he was confessing his private life to the character I’d created. Oh, and he lied his butt off. He dropped a good ten years and his wife somehow. Finally, he asked for a picture. Well, I’d already downloaded a whole set of a girl who looked about that age, and the photos didn’t look professional. I started with a simple one and he gushed about how hot I was. Over the next few weeks, I sent him more and more photos, each more revealing than the last.
He started trying to be really flirty and revealing the truth behind these matches. He would hook up with these female wrestlers and he was hoping for the same outcome with Miss Plex.
He was hooked. His work slowed down, he became obsessed with Sue_Plex and quite frankly, my work suffered as well having to answer all his notes. Fortunately, he didn’t notice because he was too busy sending off love letters. Robert and I had a ton of fun messing with the poor guy, but one day, he called me up again.
He said, ‘Coffee. Now.’
At the cafeteria, he told me Dave had another ‘Army reunion’ coming up and we should see if we could get him to come to D.C. to meet ‘Sue’ instead.
I said, ‘Hmmm. Genius!’
I sent Dave an email and said we should get together sometime. Boom. In a flash, he responded that he had been thinking the same thing and had some time off in a few weeks. Would I be interested in him coming to visit?
I replied, ‘Yes. Yes, I would.’
As Sue, I arranged to meet him in D.C. at a local hotel. As the day approached, Dave became more and more excited and messed with us less and less.
Robert and I were going nuts, having to act like nothing was going on while Dave prattled on about how happy he was to hook up with his old Army buddies, what a fun trip it would be, how he was hoping he didn’t get pinned down by the snow, etc. I guess he thought he was being clever, but since we already knew the entire story, it just came across as pathetic.
He left early on a Friday to catch his flight, smiling like a champ.
Tuesday morning, he showed up looking like his best friend had died. We asked what was wrong and he tried to play it off like he was just tired from his long weekend, but as soon as he could, he sent Sue a message asking what the heck had happened and why hadn’t she shown up?
We waited to respond until after lunch. He was a basket case. Finally, we fired back a furious message that we’d called his house on Friday just to leave him a message, and some ‘WOMAN ANSWERED!’ We said we’d pretended to give her a survey and we knew about his wife and four kids. So he’d been lying to us all along. Basically, we went crazy on him. We told him if he ever tried to contact us again, we’d tell his wife everything. We waited for him to get the email, watched him surreptitiously read it, and then we watched him have a meltdown.
He started sweating like crazy, called his wife to check on her, and finally left early. He was never the same after that. He pretty much stopped messing with contractors and kept to himself. We never sent him any more emails and he never sent any to Sue. My contract ended not too long after that and that was the last I heard of him.”
“During the last year or so of my marriage, I was spending a lot of time out of town, commuting for three to four days a week for work. One night I was working remote and decided to do some upgrades on my home computers, so I remoted in and noticed the connection was really slow. I did some network traces and found my wife’s computer was participating in a video chat with someone in another state, one where she has no family that I know of. Huh. Curiosity piqued, so I started to monitor more stuff, like IM (instant messaging) conversations.
Over the next few weeks, I kept my mouth shut as I collect more evidence, mostly Yahoo! and AIM conversations. I also had installed security cameras around my house because we had problems with the neighborhood kids, and eventually I caught footage of some guy coming and going from the house and at one point even driving my car. I still kept my mouth shut because I knew if I said anything my wife would just lie about it and somehow make me out to be the bad guy. I knew who the guy was by now, and I gathered more data on him. And then he did it. He plugged his laptop into my network.
So, I’m a network engineer and security admin by trade. I know networks, I know how to monitor them, and I know how to fiddle with data. My wife knew this, the guy she was messing around with knew this, but he was still dumb enough to enter my domain and play around on my network. I started grabbing usernames and passwords, email accounts, IM accounts, etc. I rerouted all of their web traffic through a proxy so I could monitor where they went and how they logged in. Eventually, I hit the jackpot.
The moron ran a fairly well-known gaming forum that was a major source of revenue for him, and he logged in without using SSL (Secure Sockets Layer).
I used his admin username and password hash to log in and make a few admin accounts for myself, naming them something inconspicuous and changing the account creation date to make them look old. At this point, I could have just wiped his entire site, but that would be too easy to fix, simply restore a backup. No, I had a better idea. Every day I went back and deleted random posts older than six months. Then I deleted every post older than six months. I did this for three weeks straight before the guy suspected anything. I noticed he killed one of my admin accounts, so I quickly assigned admin privileges to my wife’s account then deleted all my other admin accounts.
She called me in a panic because her new boy toy was flipping out on her because it looked like she was the one who ‘hacked’ the forums and deleted the content. Thousands of posts were gone and there was no way to restore them because a full restore would wipe out three weeks of new posts. She appeared to be the only other person with admin access aside from the owner, and he was livid. I pleaded ignorance and pretended I never knew about the forum until she called me. There was no reason I would know about the forum. They never made the connection between him using my home network and his forum getting hosed.
They never figured out what happened. The incident caused him to break off whatever he had going with my wife, which really left her stranded when I told her a month later that I was divorcing her. I had collected enough evidence from their IM conversations and her forum posts to satisfy my need for closure. She still has no idea how much information I gathered about her second life.”
“I worked as a server in a fine dining restaurant in a touristy town in Florida. The owners, a husband and wife team, were notorious for being cruel and petty, but it was 2008 and I had just been laid off so I had to take anything. On top of that, I was engaged to be married (paying for the wedding ourselves) and planning a move to New York City as well.
Red flags were there as soon as I was hired on. The server who trained me was fired a week after I started because he took too long to write the specials on the chalkboard. He had a learning disability and they knew that. His replacement was hired on December 23rd but was soon fired for selling the wrong bottle of Moscato. While this was definitely her mistake, their handling of it was despicable. She sold a 125 dollar bottle for 35 dollars.
The owner let the table know of the server’s mistake, saying, ‘I hope you are enjoying that bottle, it’s actually a 125 dollar bottle. But don’t worry, you don’t have to pay for it. Your server will have to.’
Needless to say, the table was furious for being put in that awkward position and was gracious enough to give an awesome secret tip to cover the cost. Here is the nasty part. She finished out her shift and paid the total of 125 dollars thinking she still had a job. She was fired on Christmas Eve by text message.
As for me, I kept quiet as much as I could. I saw that whenever you shared any bit of your personal life with these pricks, they used it to torment.
The wife/ owner followed me around the FOH (front of house) and berated me in increasingly weird ways with the intent to emasculate. Once they met my fiancé and from that moment on, the wife-owner would make jabs saying, ‘She doesn’t seem like she is too thrilled to get married,’ or ‘She probably expects better,’ and then laugh it off like she was just joking.
It was my strategy to just ignore it and save money. She figured this out right away and got downright sadistic, trying to see how far they could push me and see what I would do without complaint. I managed to suck it up for two years, thanks to drinking, no backbone, and financial need. My breaking point was when she told me to take away the chair our hostess was sitting in when no customers were around.
Granted sitting on the job is supposedly unprofessional, but she was an elderly woman, sick, working outside. The hostess wouldn’t dare call in sick as she was working here illegally from Hungary and had to tolerate the nonsense they threw at her. So rather than talk to the hostess and possibly take over for her sick employee, she asked me to snag the chair from her without explanation. Here is the messed-up part. I did it and the hostess understood. Really, what could she say? She knew what was happening and gave me this look of understanding that I’ll never forget. I got a few feet away and put the chair back, looking straight back at the vile shitstain that asked me to be cruel to another person for her amusement. The owner didn’t say a word to me about my subordination and gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening.
Two weeks later, I was closing out my tips and receipts with the husband-owner. I had counted my bank prior to cashing out with him as I always did. Everything added up just fine. Turns out he had secretly added in a cash ticket to my till for 150 dollars. It showed on the report he printed a minute before running the cashout report. I had only four tables, all cash tips on all credit card tickets that night so it was not hard to keep track of. Lucky me, I questioned this and said I had double-checked my math and he must have made some mistake.
His response was, ‘If you don’t like it, there is the door.’
That pretty much sealed it. I knew exactly what was happening, he was going to force me to quit.
I refused to pay him and said, ‘I will be returning to work tomorrow for my next scheduled shift, and we can work this out then.’
He said, ‘Forget you! Get out!’
I was fired. This was very important. I was fired. I didn’t quit.
I was a month away from moving to NYC with my wife to try to start a career in my field. I just needed one more month of saving every last penny I made and I was out. This pretty much messed me up. So I filed for unemployment stating the reasons I was fired on my last night, which met the eligibility requirements. The unemployment office contacted my former employer for verification and he said I was fired for stealing a bottle of Moscato and there were witnesses. My claim was denied. The next step was to dispute the claim. I disputed and it went to the adjudication process. Basically what amounted to a phone hearing between my former employer, an unemployment caseworker, me, and any ‘witnesses.’
This is where I got revenge.
I knew of the upcoming hearing, and my employer was notified by mail of the date. The letter explained the process and instructed to line up any witnesses and materials needed for the case. It also stated that you have a period of time to reschedule the hearing if needed. An unemployment worker explained the process to me over the phone before the letters were mailed. I then paid a stranger with a 12-pack to steal any of their mail from the unemployment office and bring it to me. Leading up to the hearing I also reported them to ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) for playing copyrighted music in their establishment without paying dues, which is a fairly hefty fine, and reported some of their more crooked dealings to the IRS. Namely how the wife-owner would use her name as an employee for several of the illegal workers, underreporting earnings, etc. I also dropped a dead fish into their gutters above their patio, waited a week for the rats to appear, and called the health department.
At the time of the hearing, the owner was caught off guard and tried to reschedule. He was not allowed to reschedule because the letter (which he never received) stated that failure to attend the hearing automatically results in a ruling for the other party. He complied and we went along with the hearing without his fake witness. During the hearing, I kept calm but he lost his temper. I answered my questions in a way to really get his anger going, and it worked.
The key question posed to my former employer was, ‘Had he not stolen any property, would you still have fired him?’
He slipped and said, ‘Yes’, sending the ruling in my favor.
A few weeks later, I received my check for all the past months of unemployment. It was enough to get me to NYC.
Two and a half years later, I found an excellent job in my field with great pay, benefits, an awesome boss, and union representation. They, on the other hand, are struggling to keep the doors open and have both had a host of financial problems.”
Shout Out To The Sergeant, He Knew Better
“In 2009, I deployed for a six-month tour to the Helmand Province in Afghanistan. A month into the deployment, I was just getting six months into my first ‘real’ relationship. It was long-distance, as I was stationed in North Carolina and she lived back home in New York. We were planning on getting married, but my Staff Sergeant gave me a little speech and I decided it was best to wait until after the deployment.
She was already cheating on me four months into the relationship. I took it hard. And that was all I thought about for six months while I waited to get back home. I had a bunch of her stuff, and she had some of mine. I never got any of my stuff back, but she had given me this tiny little dancer trinket to wear on my dog tags. Her mother had given it to her before she ran off, so it had some sentimental value to her. Oh, and five months into my deployment, her new boyfriend who she left me for went back to prison for probation violation.
I got a message over Facebook that she just found out she was six months pregnant, and it was mine.
I replied, ‘There’s no way you just find out you’re 6 months pregnant when you weigh 110 pounds soaking wet.’
It was a sham to get me back, there was no pregnancy.
Six months later, I arrived back home. I went into the Subway where she worked, and lo-and-behold she was working.
I walked in, and she said, ‘Welcome to Su-‘ and cut off mid-sentence as she saw me, with a look of absolute horror on her face.
I walked in, walked up to the counter, looked her dead in the eyes, set the dancer trinket on the counter, shook my head, and turned around, and walked out. I could hear her start crying before I got to the door.
I’ve never blocked her on Facebook, so about once a year she tries to message me and ask me how I’m doing, but it usually ends with her going on some depressing rant about how she messed up and wished she never cheated on me and left me.”
“When I was in grad school, I lived in an apartment complex just off-campus. Whenever I would receive deliveries, the FedEx or UPS delivery guy would always leave valuable packages for my apartment outside my screen door because I was on the first floor, which was quite annoying since I told them to leave them inside the building.
I was taking a trip with my girlfriend, so I asked the neighbor across the hallway to bring any of my packages in for me. I had ordered some books and other valuables that would be arriving while I was gone. I left them my spare key and my neighbors said it would be no problem. Unfortunately, I returned to a problem.
My apartment looked horrible. Literally, there were dog turds all over and it looked ransacked as if there was a party. The apartment was locked and my neighbors acted like they had no idea what happened. Unluckily for them, another neighbor said she saw them have a party two nights in a row there. These guys were hipsters/hippies, so I hatched a plan.
I went to Michael’s arts and crafts and bought some candle-making accessories. At home, I picked up the dog turds (with planters shovel), which was still malleable so it must have been relatively recently shat. I mixed the dog poo with lighter fluid and Pomona’s Universal Pectin, which my girlfriend uses to make jams. I then molded the dog turd, lighter fluid, pectin mixture (using latex gloves) around two M80s and used a wick extension for the candle, and wrapped it around the mixture.
Next, I used the candle-making accessories from Michaels and filled the center with my poo bomb. In the end, I made the poo reside about 1.25 inches deep in the candle and only had poo wrapped around the sides of the firecrackers so as soon as the M80s were lit, the flaming poo would be everywhere.
I then sent the lavender-scented Poocandle to my neighbors as a gift from a local bank. I had a box from the bank for a glass they gave my sister after opening up a checking account. Being that they were hippieish, they always burned incense and candles. I knew they would love it.
A few weeks later, a couple of my buddies were over drinking and we heard a loud explosion. We went across the hall and knocked on the door pretending to check on them. They opened the door and it reeked. There was dog poo all over the wall and the floor (some of it burning), on the ceiling fan, in their AC window unit, and on them and their food.
My buddy looked at one of my neighbors and said, ‘Dang! What happened?’
He responded, ‘I don’t know, but this candle from XYZ bank just exploded.’
I then said, ‘It smells like poop.’
My other friend agreed and we chuckled as we left.”
Cheapskate vs Angry Teenagers
“I used to live in a very small town, like 250 to 300 people. We had no stores, gas stations, etc.
One day a local guy decided to open up a little store that sold the basics like groceries and rented movies. He hired a few of us, high school kids, to work the store, and promised us 50 dollars a week for the summer to be paid at the end of the summer. We agreed and started working. We gave up our summer, stocking shelves, cleaning the bathroom, lawn care, and whatever else.
Well, the end of the summer came around. It was our last day of work, and he came by with our paychecks. It was only 50 dollars. For each of us. For the whole summer.
Needless to say, we weren’t too happy, but his words were, ‘What are you gonna do about it? Drop the key off at my house since you won’t need it anymore.’
We came up with a plan to pay this jagoff back. Before locking up the store for the last time, we left a window unlocked. We dropped the key off at the house. Around midnight, we were back at the store. Grabbed as much as we could, cigs, money from the register, candy, probably about 1K worth of stuff, locked the window, then left through the emergency exit that had no alarm. There were also no cameras of any kind.
The next day, there were cops there. He accused all of us of doing it but had no proof. He ended up having to shut down the store a few months later because the town heard how he didn’t pay us and stopped doing business there.”
Assigned Parking Issue
“My dad used to live in an apartment building with assigned parking, as in every tenant had a designated space that only they were allowed to park in. Well, my dad would regularly come home to find someone else parked in his spot. He had asked the guy politely several times not to park in his spot and had even talked to the landlords who had done nothing about it, so one day he got home to find the guy parked in his spot again and decided enough was enough.
My dad had always worked on cars, ever since he was thirteen. He had a jack in his trunk and used that to jack the guy’s car up off its rear tires. It was a rear-wheel-drive car which meant my dad now had control of the car. Using the jack he pulled the car across the lot and left it somewhat hidden behind a dumpster. Then he let the car down, put away his jack, parked in his spot, and went up to his apartment.
Later that day, he got a knock on his door. It was a police officer with an inconsiderate neighbor behind him.
The officer asked my dad what he had done with the neighbor’s car and my dad looked him right in the eye and said, ‘He parked in my spot and I’ve asked him several times not to do so, so I lifted his car up and set it over by the dumpster.’
Now, to give you an idea about my dad, he’s 6’5″ and back in the day was really well built. He also has only one eye, and the fake one he’s got has always been too small, giving him a constant ‘madman’ look. When he told the officer that he’d lifted the car and moved it himself and even pointed out where the car was through his apartment window, the police officer’s eyes got as big as dinner plates.
He turned to the neighbor and said, ‘Sir, I recommend you never park in this man’s spot again.’
Guy stopped parking in my dad’s spot after that.”
“A buddy of mine posted an ad on Craiglist saying I was selling my two-year-old Vespa for 500 dollars. Obviously, that deal was not to be passed up so, throughout the day, I had about 50 people calling my cell home trying to buy my scooter. He finally took the ad down at the end of the day and had a good laugh.
But I was plotting.
The next week, I went to google images and found some pictures of killer home entertainment systems and super-nice furniture and made a Craigslist ad stating, ‘I’m being deployed to Guam by the Army and my family is coming with me.’
I proceeded to list all of the items he was ‘selling’ and gave them crazy low, but not impossible, prices. Xbox games for five dollars each, flat screen for 150 dollars, and etc. Enough to make it feel real, yet irresistible.
I added a photo of his house that I snagged from Google Streetview and said in the ad, ‘The sale starts Saturday morning at 4 am. Please don’t try to swing by on Friday as you’ll promptly be turned away. See you Saturday!’
He was awoken at 4 am on Saturday morning by a line of people all super excited for the deal of a lifetime. He had to spend the rest of his Saturday morning trying to explain to people that it was all a joke and they needed to go home. Understandably, they were ticked off. I felt kinda bad for those people. They were collateral damage in our war.”
“One time when I worked in a small video store as an assistant manager there was this one customer who was being a real jagoff to the point where I got fed up with his nonsense and threw him out. He had been rude to every single other employee in the store, including our boss. He was just a mouthy harassing prick.
Anyway, I saw him in a little strip mall nearby one time and he was bragging to some guys about he was cheating on his worker’s compensation. Then he pulled out this wad of cash and waved it under their noses like a Japanese fan.
He said, ‘I got all this freakin free money from lying about my injured hand!’
Anyway if you go into the blue pages of the phone book, you’ll find this listing in all cap letters, ‘WORKERS COMPENSATION FRAUD HOTLINE.’
And take a wild guess what video stores keep in their records? Customers’ full name, home address, and phone number. Not only did I turn this guy in but was also able to provide great detail as to exactly how he was faking his injury as he explained it to his two friends.”