They say revenge is a dish best served cold. However, some people would argue it's best served petty. Why not stoop to their level for the sake of some justice? It might be immature, but it also makes a whole lot of sense.
We wanted to see how far people would go to get back at those who wronged them, and they held nothing back. We scanned through Reddit and found the most savage, hilarious, and always petty revenge we've heard of. This content was edited for clarity.
"I found out my wife was cheating on me, so I kicked her out and sent her packing back to Missouri. She emailed me asking for her wedding dress so she could marry the guy she cheated with.
I hung the dress in a tree, burned it, and sent her the unholy remains in a ziplock bag. Postage Due."
"This started on Thanksgiving this year.
I am from Scotland and have been living in the US since Christmas day 2013.
In 2011, I met my wife when I was working in London. She is from Houston, Texas and was sent over to work for the London office of our company. We got married in 2012 and due to the company we work for closing down, we move back over to Austin, Texas where she was living for 20 years before London.
With her being from Texas, you can imagine that some of her family is extremely conservative. Which I frankly don't care if they are or not. However, doesn't matter if you are a Conservative, liberal, socialist if you're rude, then you suck.
We were sitting in the living room watching TV after an amazing Thanksgiving dinner. Someone mentioned the whole new open carry law starting this new year in Texas. Being from Scotland where weapons are not around, they asked me, 'What do you think of that law? Being from a place with no weapons.'
'It's kinda foreign to me. Not sure how I would react seeing a holstered weapon in plain view. Honestly, think I would feel uncomfortable and unsafe but that is just my upbringing.' Which I thought was fair enough to say.
My wife's aunt turns to me and comes out with. 'Well, that's because you are from a socialist country. You also have a queen that rules your people. You are not citizens. You are a subject. If you were allowed weapons, you would be a citizen.' She then proceeded to tell me that the Syrian refugees were coming over and it was bad and she needed to protect herself from them.
Fast forward an hour and she was pretty hammered. We were about to head back home. I thanked everyone for the great meal and she turned and said, 'Too bad you are not going back to your own country.' I didn't say anything at all. I did not want to stoop to get level...yet.
Since then she had apologized. Via text. I replied saying, 'No problem. Don't worry about it.'
We went to Houston for Christmas. She was there. We exchanged gifts. I handed her an envelope. She opened it and as I expected, she lost her freaking mind. She threw the piece of paper on the ground and stormed out.
My mother in law picked up the paper and read, 'A donation of $250 had been made to Unicef USA for the Syrian Child Refugees by (my name) on behalf of (aunt's name).'
I just said, 'I thought, judging by the pro-life sticker on her car, she would appreciate that...my bad.'
I sat down and took a swig of my drink. The rest of the evening was awkward. What a prick."
"I had two jobs, one was at this country ice house in this tiny town outside of my city. This place was pretty small but was one of the few bars in the area so it would get busy. A lot of good ole boys and oil field guys.
I worked the door, checked IDs and such, and usually broke up fights or kicked people out. The owner of this place was very hands on. He liked to micromanage everything. Didn't want me to kick people out unless they were throwing punches, and even then to try and talk to them. He never cut anyone off. He had that 'always be selling' attitude.
One night, some trouble happened between some regulars and one guy tried to hit another guy with a pool stick. I happened to get hit in the arm but got behind the guy and put him to sleep.
The next day, the manager called me to tell me I was being let go. Apparently, pool stick guy spent a lot of money and me putting him to sleep left him bitter so he called the owner.
Anyways, the bar has a nice fancy jukebox. If you have the app, you can just pick songs on your credit card and they'll play. If you hit play next on a song, even if they turn the jukebox off, it'll play when it starts back up. It's also unskippable.
With the master remote, you could skip a song but they lost that remote so they really can't do much if someone plays a certain song they don't like, and even if they unplug it, it'll play no matter what when they turn it on.
So then I thought about my petty revenge.
The owner did inventory every Tuesday night. It also happened to be a busy night because they did pool tournaments and it usually got packed.
So here I thought, I could probably just play the same song over and over and there was nothing they can really do.
I got twenty bucks in credits and that usually gives you about 18 unskippable songs. Plus more depending if the app gifts you credits.
I picked a remix of Cotton Eye Joe that was around 7 minutes a pop. Usually when the pool tournament started.
Two hours of hearing the same song had killed their business on Tuesdays. Even if they unplug it, it'll still play when they plugged it back up.
I've been doing it for two months so far, last I heard they had to buy a new jukebox at a cost of $5,000. I'll probably stop for a month then start again. I'm a loser I guess."
"I played in an LA symphony and of the world's greatest trumpet players sat directly in front of me. For those of you who don't play brass instruments, you almost need a constant supply of water to keep from keeling over especially from two straight hours of playing.
So this player is absolutely brilliant. For this concert when we first started playing I had only seen him open his music once and then never again. His playing is unreal, and he has never once missed a note or played remotely out of tune. Let's call him Sam.
So, Sam is the essential god of the trumpet, and everyone, including myself, treated him as a deity. There are just two problems with good 'ole Sam; he was nervous as heck and always forgot his water bottle.
So, we had played this concert about five times, and this was our sixth. Halfway through, Sam played a beautiful solo which could melt the soul of Satan into a warm puddle, and like clockwork, two measures before he plays, he leans back and steals my buddy Roy's water bottle. This happened literally every concert, and made Roy so angry because no matter how many times we told him, he wouldn't give it back until the concert is over. He was a baboon.
This sixth concert, we reach the solo, and as usual, Sam leaned back grabbed the bottle and took a big 'ole swig... And choked. Because that's not water. It's a lot stronger than that.
He dropped the bottle, rushed to grab mine... More of the strong stuff. Our conductor was looking at Sam, and it's half a measure before he played. Panicking, he picked up his trumpet... And played the best solo of his life. We took him out for drinks afterwords.
He brings two water bottles to concerts now."
"It was lunch time and I was purchasing a sandwich and drink from a local supermarket.
While I was waiting in line this woman, we'll call her LB, was shrieking down her phone to who I can only presume is her now totally deaf boyfriend. She's visibly making everyone angry in the general vicinity with her swearing and general attitude.
As it was coming up to my turn to check out, she's decided she's fed up with waiting and puts her big bag of M&M's in front of my lunch on the conveyor and said, 'I need to go first.'
Without so much as a moment to think and without making eye contact, I pick them up and move them behind my items, saying nothing.
RED ALERT: DIVERT ALL POWER TO DRIVE!
LB: 'What the heck are you doing?'
Me: 'I was here first, wait your turn.'
LB: 'Forget you! I am on my lunch break and I have a very important job, blah blah blah.' (I can't remember the whole rant)
Me: 'It's lunchtime, everyone is on lunch, you have to wait.'
LB: 'Forget you! I asked nicely!'
At this point, LB threw her M&M's in front of my lunch still ranting and it was my turn to check out, enter awesome check-out girl. (Who we'll call 'ACG'.)
So after seeing the bag of M&M's land on the conveyor, I decided I would accept LB's gracious offering and buy the M&M's for myself, leaving her M&M-less.
Of course, the battle was not yet over, more screaming was coming my way.
LB: 'What are you doing, those are mine!'
Me: 'Nope, I'm paying for them now. If you want M&M's, you'll have to go get some and wait in line.'
LB: 'You're a thief! You stole my M&M's!'
Me: 'No, I just bought the M&M's you rudely threw onto my pile of stuff.'
LB: 'I'm not getting any more, give me my M&M's back. You're a thief!'
ACG: 'Ma'am, I suggest you go and get a new pack and wait in line, there are people waiting. The gentleman has not stolen anything, he paid money for the M&M's.'
LB: 'Call the freaking manager, get this piece of poop kicked out for stealing.'
Me: 'Mind if I step out anyway? I have a very important job and I'm on lunch?'
LB: 'Where are you goi-'
ACG: 'Sure, here's your receipt.'
To wrap up, the M&M's were delicious, I shared them with my co-workers. I don't know if LB went back to get some, but I highly recommend them."
"I used to work at Best Buy in Geek Squad and usually the people working the closing shifts had to clean up their departments and such. We had just gotten a new manager who was an outside hire from Circuit City. He was trying to be hard and flex his management powers by being meticulous about cleaning during closing duties and asking stuff like, 'Did you clean UNDER the registers and Windex and dust,' about every little thing.
A buddy of mine I was working with and I started our closing duties a little early since the store was pretty dead that night in order to be able to leave at a reasonable hour. We pretty much wrapped up 15 minutes after the store closed so we got the manager to do a walkthrough so we could leave. He was looking around and everything seems to be in order until he looked behind some signage on a shelf and runs his finger through picking up some dust. He has this poop eating grin on his face and lets out a little weasley laugh and says, 'Looks like you guys still have some work to do.' My buddy and I looked at each other and we both just knew what had to be done. We cleaned the entire department top to bottom, inside and out. Every drawer was emptied, dusted, wiped down, brochures organized. Every computer in the back was moved and the shelves were dusted and wiped, floors were vacuumed twice, top stock was neatly arranged, every inch of the department was gone over with a fine tooth comb, twice in some spots just to take longer.
10pm turned into midnight, everyone else was long gone except for us three. He was looking weary and tired. Midnight turned into 2 am and we were still going at it when he finally came out of the office red-eyed and exhausted and said, 'Guys, let's go.'
'But we still haven't dusted under the counters and...'
'It's fine, let's go.' My buddy and I took our sweet time gathering our things and clocking out. We also were both off the next day and the manager had to be in early for a conference call so it made it all that much better. Every time he was the closing manager after that night, he never gave us trouble again, simply asking us if we were ready to go when the store closed. Justice prevailed."
"At a company I used to work for, my first boss there was a decent enough guy off the clock, but he was a bit of a tyrant at work. He also has a hair-trigger temper. No kidding, our regional manager actually made him attend anger management classes, twice that I know of.
If anything went wrong, or if he even thought it went wrong, he'd take it out on whoever was closest, or whoever he happened to talk to next. I was on the verge of quitting over it more than once.
If I make a mistake, I'll own up to it, and make it right. I don't take well to having someone call me up at random and start cursing me, especially when it's something I didn't have anything to do with.
A coworker and I were talking on the phone when I jokingly mimicked the sound our Nextel phones made when they were about to drop a call. He swore it was convincing. Later, I tried it on someone else, and they thought it was real, too.
After that, every time my boss called, complaining about something, I started making that noise and would hang up. He fell for it. I kept waiting for him to catch on, but he never did."
"I made my old boss think I gave him herpes, and not in a conventional way. I worked in an awful factory for awhile and my boss was a turd. A turd beyond turds--like fire people for no reason then go home and beat your wife turd. He was also untouchable due to his uncle owning the company. He made us buy our own gloves, I bought really nice, comfy ones. He would come down to the floor while we were at break to check our work and he would use my gloves to do it. I thought this was extremely nasty (it was the middle of summer) and asked him to stop. He just shrugged. After about three happenings, I got an idea.
I grabbed an old pair of gloves, a poison ivy leaf, and a hammer. I put the poison ivy in glove and pounded away. Kept the gloves in a bag in my lunchbox till I went to lunch. Sure enough, I left the poison gloves out and he used them. Two hours later, he came out to my machine, itching like crazy and red bumps all over his hands. Came right up to me, let me see your hands! I showed him my hands, he showed me his. 'You didn't use my gloves, did you? I got some terrible rash on my hands from some exotic dancer at the club last week!' No words, no looks, he just left. He left work, went to the doctor, and I hope told that exact story."
"I'm still basking in the warm glow of pettiness I displayed on my way home from work.
I pulled into a gas station behind the car in front of me. There were two pumps open on the end, so I kept following the car in front until the car stopped at the first pump instead of pulling through to the second pump. There was just enough room to squeeze my car by between the car at the first pump and a fence. As I'm driving by, I see a teenage girl give me an exaggerated sad smirk while her friend laughed. Wrong move, ladies.
I pull into the second pump, but I do NOT leave them enough room to pull by after they finish pumping gas. I decided today to pay inside for my gas and take a few minutes perusing the store, grabbing a soda, and chatting with the clerk. When I noticed the girls are done pumping their gas, I walked slowly back to my car and started pumping gas. As the gallons ticked by, they start to realize their mistake and are getting annoyed. I finished pumping my gas, but as I'm about to get in my car I noticed my windows are awfully dirty. It would be unsafe to drive without them clean, but luckily the gas station has conveniently provided a squeegee and cleaner. I promptly did my duty and cleaned every window on my car.
As I walked to put the squeegee away I noticed the first girl flipping me off. I gave her the same exaggerated sad face she showed me earlier. Not so funny now, is it?"
"I used to deliver pizzas for a great many years, we went to the local family restaurant and the entire time we were being served and eating, I was trying to think of where I knew the waitress from. Finally, when she brought me the bill, it clicked. I went out to my car and grabbed every piece of change I could find, and with delivering pizzas; it was plentiful. We made a point of hanging around there ordering a few more drinks, decided to have dessert, and just generally make trouble for this waitress. I know for a good hour, I was her last table and she was just waiting on me, which was fine. Once we needed to leave to get to the cinema (taking the kids to the latest Pixar junk), I paid the entire $98.72 bill in change, with zero tip. Spread the change out across the table to resemble a big smiley face.
As I scooped up my kids to put coats on them, she came over and her face dropped. I simply smiled at her and our family walked out.
As I was doing up car seats, the manager and the waitress came out and the manager asked what was wrong. I looked the waitress dead in the eye and spouted out her address and that I was simply returning the favor. The manager looked dumbfounded, I backed out and left.
This dumb lady ordered pizza regularly, four or five times a week, delivered; paid with an obnoxious amount of unrolled change in a Ziploc bag if I was lucky, and never a tip. Not a single penny. On top of it, she'd frequently call and complain that we'd forgotten something, to the point that her order always showed up in red on the delivery screen to have a manager come visually check that all the items for her order were there before we left. People in this area specifically think it's OK to pay in large handfuls or bagfuls of change, regularly. I can't remember many nights where I didn't have at least $20 in assorted change by the end of the night. I used to clean it all out weekly and put it in a big 5-gallon water jug, it filled, and I got lazy. Just started leaving it in my car out of laziness, I'd clean it once either I got annoyed with it or got annoyed with my wife [fiancé at the time] complaining about it. When I finally cashed in all my change, I had near $8,000 in change, from five years of delivering, minus quarters. I rolled most of the quarters and cashed them in myself at the bank. I did that slowly over time though, don't have the slightest idea how much in quarters I got over the years.
As a note, I do genuinely tip; always at least $10, regardless of the bill. I couldn't bring myself to tip her. I had to make a point. I simply returned the favor and hopefully taught her a lesson.
I'd told the managers at my store what happened on my next shift and that she'd likely call and complain if I ever delivered to her again, which I knew was inevitable. It was a small family run pizzeria, managers told me I'd be taking the run anyway for a laugh if it came up and it was my turn just to see if she'd call and complain. That's fine, I'd be more than happy to smirk in her face again, even without a tip. Just to have my curiosity fulfilled to see if she learned something.
A few weeks later I managed to, unfortunately, draw the short straw and take her delivery. She just stared at me like an idiot when she opened the door and handed me what she normally does; she didn't learn anything.
I treated her no differently than I would a known $20-tipper at the door, knowing I wasn't going to be getting a freaking thing. She did, in fact, call the store to complain about the fabricated bull, and I just laughed. Apparently, I swore at her, drove through her lawn and hit her mailbox. We all had a good laugh, and she was banned from ordering deliveries after a manager drove past her house to simply make sure I hadn't actually messed her lawn up or knocked over her mailbox.
If you work for tips, you should definitely tip yourself."
"After a very eventful week in which I missed work because I was extremely ill, I finally returned to my hallowed spot behind the register. Since the winter is mighty slow for us, I guess one of my bosses got antsy and decided to tweak our register settings so NEW and FUN things printed out on our receipt. In hindsight, it really was my fault for leaving her unattended with the register for a week.
One of these NEW and FUN things happened to include the receipt now printing the first and last name of the cashier who rang them up. I'm not a crazy privacy nut but this...this freaked me out and made me angry. The receipt already printed out our employee code when we ring the sale. I called my boss and asked her what point of sale option she had fiddled it so I could fiddle it back to off. Imagine my shock at her shock on why I would want to do this. What is so bad about the receipt printing the first and last name of the cashier?
Oh, I don't know. Irate customers having personal information, crazy customers having personal information, ANY customer having personal information. The list goes on. My first and last name are one Google search away from my address, my Facebook, my embarrassing angst-riddled teenage blogs that I keep meaning to delete.
My boss told me to leave the option turned on. So I created a fake Facebook account, using a male name and sent her a private message detailing how I thought she was so pretty and how I was too shy to say that when she rang me up, but I got her name off the receipt and just had to contact her.
Two hours after I sent the message, she called me and told me to turn the option off."
"When I was a tween and my sister had big sleepovers, I was allowed to have my cousin over to keep me company as well.
Things usually went pretty smoothly during the day, but come night time, my sister and her friends would begin pranking us mercilessly. Everything from putting our underwear in the freezer to putting shaving cream on us while we slept to popping out of random places and scaring us. One night, we decided we had enough.
My sister had been warned earlier about the pranking after my cousin and I complained about it. We stayed up late, chugging soda to keep us going until all the older kids had fallen asleep. Then, we pulled out the markers and began drawing all over each others' faces. Smears of red and green and purple, we left no areas untouched. We even added little marker streaks to our pillows, to make it look like somebody's hand had slipped while they were scribbling on our faces. Then we went peacefully to sleep and waited for the chaos to ensue.
Everything went as planned. Their pranks had been mostly harmless until now, they certainly never did anything that would stain or last more than a couple of hours. My sister and her friends were in deep trouble, and we got off scot-free.
The highlight of this story for me is a conversation from the following day between my sister and my grandpa:
Sister: 'But I didn't do anything!'
Grandpa: 'What? So we're supposed to believe they did this to themselves?'"
"This was about 20 years ago while I was in high school. Through about six weeks of swimming class during the Physical Education year, I noticed that after I'd had a shower after swimming practice, my small, sealed plastic bottle of 'Ginger' as we call it here, would have been removed from my bag, half swilled, and put back in my lunchbox.
This was no regular beverage - this was my 250ml bottle of Irn Bru - known as the nation of Scotland's finest beverage. Even today, decades on - you are not supposed to mess with someones Irn Bru.
Irn Bru, is the most important invention in Scottish history.
Those Irn Bru's, a beverage that my dear mother would purchase and place in my lunchbox each day, were being messed with. Consumed by some little snot rag. Half was stolen, and replaced as a taunt. This could not be allowed to stand.
My school was rough as can be and I was not a tough kid. Standing up for myself directly/physically was not something I felt capable of back then. So I made a simple plan.
Without a word said to my friends, I treated myself to a good half bottle of my Irn Bru before I went to bed late one Sunday night, and just before I went to bed, I nipped to the bathroom, and filled the remainder of the bottle with my teenage pee.
Surely enough, after swimming practice that Monday afternoon, I opened my lunchbox to find a half-swilled bottle of Irn Bru.
I stood up in the changing room, on a bench, held the bottle aloft, and exclaimed, 'Whoever's been drinking my Irn Bru for six weeks, you just drank my pee.'
The locker room looked on in a confused silence, even my best friends had no idea what the heck was going on...
But I spotted one face. One face that stood out among all the other bewildered 14-year-old faces.
It was you, Colin O'Neill.
Colin freaking O'Neill. To this day, I'd put my life on it - It was you the whole time.
You had terrible hair and were a nasty little bullying goof. But on that day, you drank a good 120 milliliters of my nasty, teenaged pee.
You suck Colin O'Neill, you pee-drinking little wanker, I hope your next poop is a hedgehog.
No one ever stole my Irn Bru again."
"This happened about ten years back, while I was sharing a three bedroom place with two other guys just after college. One of them was 'that roommate.' He always left his dirty dishes by the sink, even though we had an agreement to cycle through cleaning them. Normally we would have agreed to just do our own dishes, but we all shared pots and pans so it was a pain in the butt when you have to wash a dish just to use it.
Monday was his turn but, again, no dishes were washed. Myself and the third roomie decide he's not getting away with it anymore, and start washing only the dishes we need for our meals throughout the week to see if he'd eventually wash them. He didn't even flinch, just kept cooking on the already dirty dishes.
Fast forward to Friday, most of our dishes, except for the few that were being rewashed, were now dirty. The kitchen smells, and I mean bad. He's out partying, but I have work on Saturday so I stay in. Sick of the mess, I text him telling him to just clean the dishes because it's getting disgusting. His response, 'Forget you, clean them yourself if it's so bad.'
Forget me? Forget you! I relocated all of the said dirty dishes to disgusting face's bed, under the sheets.
It was 3 am. Because he's such a considerate roommate, I woke up to him coming home from the bar, mostly because the girl he brought home was annoying as can be and won't stop yelling and singing as loud as she could. I suddenly get very giddy, this reaction was going to be much better than expected.
He headed to the bathroom to pee and I could hear her head down the hall. Next thing I heard was her complaining that it smells like a rotten corpse in his room, I'm assuming she turned the light on and screamed. Clearly, he wasn't happy when he went to find out what the deal is.
Apparently, the anonymous girl was ok with staying over, just not in a room that smelled of rotting food. He tried to convince her to stay with him on the couch, but I guess the mood was spoiled as well. I heard the door close as she left, so I stood in my doorway waiting for his reaction. To my surprise, he just mumbled 'forget you' as he walked back to his room to start his dishes.
He never missed his turn by more than a day after that. He was a spoiled kid, you could tell Mom always did everything for him. I think he ended up appreciating the fact that we didn't baby him."
"When I was a kid, I had a bed wetting problem. I am not ashamed of this now, as thousands of other kids have had the same problems. At the time, however, this was humiliating. My younger brother started telling other kids around school how extensive the issue was. I was mortified.
Even after our mother told him to knock it off, he continued. So I decided to level the playing field. The whole 'hand in a cup of warm water' deal didn't work, so I stood over him as he slept one night and peed on him. And I'm a girl, so it was not an easy challenge. The next morning, my mom was horrified and wound up taking a call from my grandmother.
'I don't know what to do, now BOTH of them are peeing the bed,' she explained, clearly frustrated.
After a few more times of 'framing' my brother as a bed wetter, he completely stopped using my embarrassing problem as entertainment."
"So about four years ago, I was living with my (now ex) girlfriend. She was a cute girl, but was very picky about what she ate, and could be a real turd sometimes.
One thing she was adamant about was not drinking tap water. Even with a filter, she refused to do it. So she would buy the gallon jugs of water, and every week I would have to go across the street to the grocery store and fill them up at the machine out front, we had about four.
She claimed she could taste and _knew _the difference, I didn't believe her.
Well, one week, in particular, she was being irritable as usual and wanted me to fill up the jugs while she was at school.
So I did. With the tap water. She never said a word. I did it again the following week. I continued to ask her why she likes the filtered water better.
We broke up shortly after, but the several weeks leading up to it, she drank nothing but tap water.
And the evil cheating wench never knew."
"My neighbor always leaves her French bulldog outside when it's cold and/or rainy. I've asked her politely to let it inside because it was shivering and whining, it also usually barked the whole time even when people weren't walking by. About a week ago, I decided to call the non-emergency number because it was 40 degrees and raining, the dog was shivering beyond belief. She ended up with a summons for animal abuse. She came to my door when the cops left and started pounding and screaming, I just played music over her until she tired out. We have retaliation laws protecting people who report noise/abuse, but I felt like I could do something psychologically devastating to this horrible person.
The next morning, I decided to play a little prank and pull a Tom Haverford with my Roomba. I downloaded a video of a puppy barking as an MP4 and put it on my phone, hooked it up to my Bluetooth speaker and let DJ Roomba do the rest. It was on 30% volume, barely loud enough to hear through the walls. A short while later, a cop, along with my neighbor, was at my door about my dog barking. I said, 'Dog? I don't have a dog.' And pointed at my two cats at the top of the stairs and no dog in sight, even let the cop inside to show no sign of one. She then told the cop she could hear it moving from room to room, I just HAD to have a dog.
That's when I said, 'Her dog barks so much she probably hears it subconsciously.' This made her furious, the cop told her don't call about a dog again and we all went our separate ways. I've been doing this about every day when we're both home and I can hear her screams of agony as she thinks it's in her head. It makes me want to get a dog."
"I saw an item posted online and decide to make an offer, and it went as follows:
Me: 'Hi, is your item still available?'
Seller: 'Yeah, I still have it.'
Me: 'OK, would you take $140 for it? (Which is only $10 off and I certainly wasn't going to meet up with a less than agreed upon amount)'
Seller: 'Sure, can you meet me at Town Center right now? (Which is halfway across town 50 minutes away)'
Me: 'OK, I'm on my way. Thank you!'
Seller: 'Sure, I'll see you soon. '
So I got there and I was waiting for over 40 minutes, and I still haven't received a text back from this guy.
Me: 'OK I'm here, are you close?'
A few minutes later I receive the following text.
Seller: 'Hey, I hope you wasted your gas and time. That's what you get for lowballing me.'
That was the end of that.
So obviously I was seeing red and tried calling and texting this piece of trash. But he, of course, didn't answer.
Now, I hate when people waste my time as well...but offering $10 lower really wasn't an unreasonable offer, and our entire text message conversation lasted only 7 minutes.
Point is, I was not letting him get away with this.
So I get a little sly with it and look up his phone number on Craigslist and I see a slew of other things he has posted.
But I didn't want to immediately call him after our last little encounter because I thought it might tip him off.
So I decided to wait a few days. After three days, I looked up his info again and saw he was selling a hard drive for like $80. Instead of texting, I call him from a totally different number and he answered! We chat and I offered him full price for the hard drive and he accepted.
I offered to meet him at an area that was about 15 minutes from him and he told me that he can meet there, but he has to walk because he doesn't have a car. So I was thinking that this just kept getting better.
We agreed to meet there in 20 minutes. Obviously, I was at home just sitting on my butt watching American Dad letting this dumb idiot walk all the way over to this gas station.
About 25 minutes later, I get a phone call from him telling me he's there and I knew he was there because I heard the cars and people in the background. 'Yeah man, I'm on my way...I'm like 10 minutes away.'
He then proceeded to text me and ask if I was close because he just missed the bus.
At this point, I'm pretty satisfied so I decided to let him on the joke.
Me: 'Are you there yet? Good! You can take that hard drive and shove it up your butt! I hope I've wasted your time, go ahead and think about that while you walk back home.
Of course, he sent me some expletives and threats (which I don't remember) but I blocked his number.
The next day, I received a text about an item I had for sale, which I'm sure was him (as I recognized his distinct hideous grammar)...nice try buddy. I ignored his text and removed all my listings and finally deactivated my pinged number. I'm done with craigslist for a while.
That day I felt like an evil genius that finally got his revenge."