These people have had enough with the rude attitudes and behaviors of others and are getting back in the best way possible: petty revenge! Although some may frown upon this, the feeling of getting back at someone can be satisfyingly sweet...
Putting Out Ads For Their Neighbor’s Yard Sale?
“About a month ago my wife and I got back from a long road trip in southern Alberta. We live downtown in a small ‘city’ of about 60,000 people. As we’re making trips in and out of our house we left our doors open. While we don’t live in a sketchy neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination, there are still some unsavory people around.
We have a two-year daughter so one of our road trip staples is an iPad with some cartoons at the ready. My wife and I lost track of who brought in what and it turned out that someone walking by helped themselves to my little girl’s tablet.
It was two days before we figured out it was gone for real, so I tried out my Find My iPhone app and was able to locate it across town. We phoned the police and they got me to text the address to them, they went to the house and recovered it and charged the mother and her teenage son with theft.
We got the iPad back and no harm was done but I was still a little mad that they’d do this. I had the people’s address but it was hard to come up with something to get back at them that 1) didn’t tip them off it was me (I wasn’t sure if they got any of my information off the iPad), or 2) wasn’t illegal.
I came up with a plan and put an ad in every local paper as well as local Craigslist websites advertising an early morning back-yard sale at the neighbor’s address. I paid for the ads to run all summer for every weekend. I put in the ad that if no one is outside come ring the doorbell or let yourself in the back.
I’m fairly proud I came up with something that’s more a nuisance than anything, and it’s not really something I can be charged with, I don’t think.”
The Shopping Cart Saga!
Stokkete/Shutterstock
“This happened at Costco a few months ago.
As most of you know, each Costco is equipped with a high-tech security system that prevents low-born plebeians from entering their premises and sampling their fine wares. I had dropped my girlfriend off at the front door and parked the car. She grabbed a cart and was standing off to the side of the entrance while waiting for me to navigate the mess of a parking lot, and when she saw me approaching the door, started to push the cart inside. She was presenting her Costco Identification to the door attendant when a group of three non-English speaking Asian women pushed their cart quickly around her and stopped dead in her path while one began fishing their own Costco ID from deep in the depths of her own purse. My girlfriend simply turned around to look at me with her jaw dropped and waited the 20 or so seconds while this woman presented her own ID, chatting away cluelessly all the while. Knowing what needed to be done, I grabbed a cart from the stack and followed my girlfriend inside. I told her she would need to do the shopping as I had more important matters to attend to.
I spent the next 20 minutes following those women through the store and cluelessly and obnoxiously blocking their path at every turn. I would push my cart around them only to stop dead and in the aisle and listlessly stare at some item on the shelf while pushing my cart back and forth across the aisle with one hand. I would push my cart towards them while they walked down an aisle, only to cut directly in front of their path and fake a phone call, while they grumpily pushed my empty cart out of their way. When one of them decided to try out the cushions on an L shaped couch, I parked my cart preventing her exit from the couch, effectively creating a triangle of annoyance. To add to it, I pulled out my phone and with the sound on began playing an urgent game of Angry Birds Star Wars 2.
My girlfriend was able to fill her own cart full of bulk toiletries before these women had even managed to make it halfway through the store. She whistled at me to show me she was on the way to the registers, so I pushed up ahead of them one last time, dropped my still empty cart dead in their path, and abandoned it to join my lady at the money collectors. The last I saw they were still stuck behind it, and probably are still to this day.”
Have Fun Waiting For Your Next Floor!
“So this just happened not too long ago while I was heading up the elevator to my office.
Just to preface, I can be a pretty petty person, but today I was just feeling extra petty and this lady brought this upon herself.
I walked into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor, 7. Now, in the elevator in my building, there is a panel of buttons on each side of the elevator, so you don’t have to do that awkward reach around to press your floor or have someone else press the button for you.
But this lady, without looking in the elevator just commands me, ‘9’. And I just looked at her, and I looked at the panel, and I looked back at her. And she did not even look to see the buttons in front of her! They are so hard to miss. So on my 15-second ride up the elevator, I am plotting my revenge. Do I tell her off? No, that’s probably too much.
All the while I am just so angry that this woman thinks I am her personal elevator button pusher.
So as I leave the elevator, I pressed the button for floor 8.
Have fun with the extra 10 seconds it takes you to get to your destination!”
The Bumpy Ride Back Home…
Lisa S./Shutterstock
“So my mom had been dog sitting for an acquaintance of hers because she broke up with her live-in boyfriend and kicked him out. (The acquaintance will be Troll from here on out). Because of this unexpected breakup, though, Troll had hotels and plane tickets booked for a trip for 3 to Orlando and only 2 people to go (Troll and 9-year old son). So, my mom seeing an opportunity, offered to go with her to help with costs and whatnot (and because my mom wanted to go to Universal).
The Betrayal: Tickets are booked, flights are boarded, and they take off for Florida. Then comes the first control freak red flag: Mom isn’t allowed to tag Troll in any pictures or anything because Troll is afraid someone will break into her house. Mom brushes it off, just sends pictures to friends and family. But it gets worse.
They bought 3 day passes for Universal and rented a car in Troll’s name only to ‘save some money’. Troll is massively overweight and doesn’t do well in the heat (why she decided Orlando in July was a good idea is beyond me). So they go for a few hours a day before the Troll complains that she’s too tired and hot and has to go back to the hotel to relax before going back to the park. Since the car is in Troll’s name and my mom was forced to chip in, she has no choice but to leave.
Troll also makes an executive decision to stay at the hotel and do nothing but lay by the pool for a whole day of the vacation. My mom does not feel comfortable at all taking the car illegally, so she’s also forced to stay.
The last straw, however, was that the hotel offered a shuttle to and from the park. However, they only offered the shuttle twice in the morning and evening. The Troll didn’t even tell my mom that and basically forced her to spend unnecessary money on the car and her priority parking because she can’t stand to stay at the park all day and won’t even get an Uber back to the hotel if she wanted to leave. Troll also complained nonstop and effectively ruined my mom’s vacation by making it all about her.
The Revenge: Mom’s fiancé (MF) was tasked with picking them up from the airport. He drives a regular size Volkswagen. After listening to Mom’s tales of how miserable Troll made her, we decide that I need to be in the car to greet my dear mother. So, Troll is squished into the backseat with me and her son in the middle. MF also intentionally hits every possible bump on the way home.”
Paying For The Parking Ticket With Pennies?
“This takes place in the mid-70s in a small town in Iowa.
There was metered parking in front of the laundromat. One meter was always broke and never accepted coins but never had an out of service sign posted on it. People just knew to avoid it. One day my grandma and 6-year-old mom came to wash clothes and the only available spot was the busted meter. She took the spot and went in to wash her clothes.
Sure enough, when they came out there was a three dollar ticket on her windshield. My grandma gets home and calls the court house explaining the broken meter, but the woman on the line said that if she knew the meter was broken and parked there anyway, she was still liable for the fine.
So what does my sweet grandmother do the next day? Why she goes to the bank to get 300 pennies of course! She lugged them all into the courthouse with my mom in tow and placed them on the counter. The woman she had spoken to the day before on the phone had to count out all 300 of them. Mom says the meter was fixed by the end of the week.”
Christmas Time At Target
“I was at Target, a week or two before Christmas last year. Of course, it was packed and the lines to check out were long. I was buying a good amount of stuff – wrapping paper, gifts, plus some everyday items I needed. When I was about to check out, they opened up an additional register and waved me over.
As I’m loading my stuff up on the belt, I realize this is the slowest cashier ever. Really nice, pleasant woman, but just everything was awkward and in slow motion. She probably worked elsewhere in the store and was pulled to the registers because they were so busy. She was about halfway through the almost painfully slow process of scanning and bagging my items when the middle-aged woman behind me started huffing impatiently. I put the two items I needed gift receipts for on the belt last, but for some reason, the cashier grabbed them out of order. I stopped her and said wait, I need a gift receipt for this and that. Well, that just made the woman behind me rage. She angrily starting grabbing her stuff from the belt and throwing the items back in her cart, cursing under her breath. She stormed over to another line. The poor cashier was already nervous and now she looked like she was about to cry. I helped the cashier figure out how to do the gift receipt and finally completed my transaction.
Now, my local Target has two sets of double doors, a small vestibule area, and another two sets of double doors. For some reason (maybe they were over budget), only one set of double doors open automatically. So you can walk right through, have the double doors open for you, go through the vestibule, and have the other set open for you, or if you choose the other set of doors right next to them, you have to open all the doors manually. People often stand in front of the manual doors waiting for them to open only to look confused for a second before figuring this out. So I was pushing my cart out and I see the raging jerk hurriedly and angrily also pushing her cart out. I walked quickly with long strides to cut her off and force her to the manual door side. She stood there for a second, let out an ‘Ahhhghhh!’ in rage and forcefully slammed her cart into the doors, pushing them open. Only to repeat this again after a few steps in the vestibule. All the people entering and exiting the store in our rather affluent suburb looked at her like the rude jerk she was, pulling their children closer, and backing away.
It was incredibly satisfying to watch her make such a spectacle of herself. I only hope the poor cashier caught a glimpse of it.”
They Close At Ten!
“Last night I was at work at my Family Owned Beverage Shop (edit: my family does not own it. Poor choice of words. It is owned by a family though). It’s not my favorite job I’ve ever had because the customers are incredibly entitled. However, it’s a fairly young business and I’ve been in customer service long enough to not give in to spoiled customers just because they want me to.
Anyway. The end of the night was approaching, beautiful, sacred closing time. We had gotten a decent rush about 20 minutes before we closed (at 10 PM) so we were a little cranky about how behind we were on finishing our tasks for the night. At 9:55, we’re finally getting somewhere with our cleaning when the phone rings. Sounds like a youngish boy, I’d say 15-years-old at most. He asked what time we closed, and I responded with my usual, ‘We close at 10 every night, but we’ll be open at 11 again tomorrow morning!’ That’s not working for him. ‘My friends and I really want some of your drinks but we can’t be there by 10, can we come like five minutes after and still get drinks?’ I tell him no, the doors get locked promptly at 10 PM. ‘Oh, well we really want the drinks, what can you do?’ I say ‘You can be here by 10 PM because I personally will be locking the doors.’ We hang up. I know he’s going to try to come in anyway.
Sure enough, at 10:06 PM, my coworkers and I hear a bunch of banging and rattling on the closed doors. Yep, like three or four high school aged kids. Sorry, we’re closed. The chairs are up, the menu is turned off, someone is mopping, THE DOORS ARE LOCKED. Any time they catch one of our eyes (which we all do our best to avoid) they give us what they think are puppy dog eyes, and we laugh and shake our heads at them. No dice. They keep assaulting the doors. It’s getting annoying, so I look up at them brightly with a big smile and start walking toward the doors. They start getting excited, thinking they’ve finally worn us down. I hold eye contact until I swerve to the right to turn off all the lights. I could hear their collective ‘awwwww!!!’ of disappointment through the door. It felt amazing. They left. I laughed. I won.”
What Happens To The Middle School Bully?
“In the 8th grade, I moved to a new state and a new school and met someone that we’ll call SD, or skinny dude.
SD was one of the first people to talk to me when I moved to the new school, and it was just to make fun of me. Thanks to him I learned what the term ‘thunder thighs’ meant. We went to the same high school, but it was big enough that we didn’t ever have classes together or anything, but I never forgot.
Fast forward it’s three years after we graduated from high school and I go to the bank where my mom works as a Human Resources manager to pick her up for lunch. I went inside to say hello to some of her coworkers that I’m friendly with. And while I was there I saw SD sitting in her office. She waved to me and I took a seat to wait for her to finish up so we could go to lunch.
We went to lunch and as we were talking I brought up SD and that I knew him from school. She was naturally curious about a potential new-hire so I gave her my story.
About a month later I saw him in training when I went to the local Baskin Robbins to get my cherry ice cream. Don’t bully the chubby kid, you might not get that new job 7 years later.”
She Is Not Getting Off The Elliptical!
“I’m a 24-year-old female, 15-20 lbs away from my ideal weight, making lifestyle changes and I’m going to the gym more often to combat my weight problem. Determined to get slim and fit again. Don’t be tantrum lady: Late 40-year-old female loses it over an elliptical machine
I was on one of two specially designed ellipticals in a row, they’re the only two of that type my gym has. The one to the right of me is wobbly and hasn’t been working, so I used the one on the left. This middle-aged lady tries to get on the one on the right, she discovers it’s broken. She sees me using the one next to it and is irritated that I have a working one and she doesn’t. Instead of handling the situation like a reasonable adult and using another machine, she stomps up to the service desk and tells a staff member. She angrily marches all the way over to the machine, with him following. He inspects it and discovers the machine is in fact broken. He suggests she use another machine like she should have done in the freakin’ first place, and she, I kid you not, stomps her foot, sighs loudly, and rolls her eyes, all the while glancing at me as if it’s somehow MY fault I’m using the working machine and the one next to me is broken. Lol.
This is only half of the story. I stay on my elliptical, she finally takes the hint and uses a slightly different type of machine that’s directly in front of the one I’m using. She makes a big show of how hard it is for her to use it, looking wobbly and unsteady the whole time. She’s huffing and grumbling to herself, all the while wishing I’d get off of my machine. I don’t get off. I take a sip of my drink (water mixed with Hydroxycut powder), realize I have to pee, walk off the machine, but leave my stuff there because I am NOT done, do my business in the bathroom, and come back. The lady is fuming at this point. I see her get fed up with the machine she is using, angry that I have returned to my spot and will not move. I smirk and watch as she stomps over to the Stairmaster, and use that for a grand total of 5 minutes. She stamps off that one as well and walks back over to the machine I am using, looks me directly in the eyes, as if to say, ‘I’m entitled to that machine.’ I stare at her deadpan as if to say back ‘No crazy woman, I am NOT moving.’ She tries to get BACK ON THE BROKEN ONE, discovers that no, it did not magically get fixed out of thin air, FURIOUSLY stomps off into the bathroom, is now blathering to someone on her phone and screaming. I never saw her again. Hahaha!”
Causing Trouble For Walmart Employees…
“I shop at Walmart a lot, because the other supermarkets in town charge insane prices that I simply can’t afford. Especially since one of those supermarkets built a shiny new building, so their prices have gone up dramatically to pass their costs on to the consumer.
Many of the Walmart employees were very nice, but most of them have quit because they’re sick of how Walmart has changed. So the remaining employees are basically jerks.
This Walmart got some new self-service checkouts with cameras, and the employees seem to be using this as an excuse to treat all their honest customers as if they’re trying to shoplift. This attitude has been getting on my nerves, to say the least, so I’ve managed to get a little bit of petty revenge.
In the first instance, one of the minimum-wage grunts started acting suspicious, peering over my cart into my reusable shopping bag that keeps foods cold…before I even started ringing up my items.
I don’t know how he could’ve even thought there would be anything concealed in the bag, when it was so crammed full of TV dinners, that the seams were literally bursting. Yes, I need to repair the bag, because I shoved so many boxes into it. It was so full, that I couldn’t begin to zip it, let alone add anything else to it, so there was no need for him to pull that stunt. Especially when I hadn’t even put my items onto the counter yet, so how could he even assume a person was trying to smuggle anything out of the store (which I wasn’t)?
So I started stacking the TV dinners onto the counter. Then, to ‘make sure’ nothing else was left inside the bag, I picked it up and shook it out…’accidentally’ hitting Mr. Nosy right in his ugly face. That’s what you get for falsely accusing honest people, asshole. He sure backed off then!
The next time I went back to Walmart, I was still mad, because the whole attitude of the store has become ‘guilty until proven innocent,’ which burns me big time. I’m an honest person, a goody two-shoes in school, the whole bit, so it annoys me when people don’t appreciate my efforts to be a decent human being.
So I’m ringing up my stuff again, bristling at the employees’ attitude, when an idea for petty revenge occurred to me. One of the items had one of those stick-on coupons, the type one has to peel off in order to redeem it immediately. So I scanned the coupon and put it aside as the automated voice told me to, then finished ringing up everything else.
After I paid, the voice said, ‘Please insert your coupon.’ Being an obedient person, I did just that…AFTER folding the coupon in half, so that the super-sticky adhesive glued that brat closed, with the barcode and the information they need to redeem the coupon glued firmly, hopelessly inside.
So now, one or more of their bratty employees will have to waste a lot of time, futilely trying to get that coupon apart, so they can redeem it and get their money back.
Oh, dear, I guess I was just ‘stupid’ enough to cause them a whole lot of trouble. After all, the computer voice didn’t SAY that I shouldn’t fold up my coupon before inserting it.”
Taking All Of The Utensils Back!
“I lived with these girls in a townhouse on campus my senior year of college. Let’s call them G1&G2. They were slightly entitled, very insecure, and fairly high maintenance. They weren’t the type of people I would normally hang out with, but all of my friends had either graduated or transferred so I spent most of my time at school with them.
Something to mention is that 90% of conversations with them would remind me of a conversation middle-aged mom’s would have about other PTA moms at brunch. Talked badly about basically everyone, including each other. G2 could look at G1 the wrong way and there would be an issue.
In February, my boyfriend and I signed our lease to our first apartment together and were told we could move in the first week of April. I was super excited and ready to help apartment shop and move in, but was still going to be living in the townhouse on campus during the week until I graduated.
G1 had one of the lead roles in the spring play and wanted everyone to come see it. I don’t mind those types of things and wouldn’t have minded going, the only thing was that the play was the same weekend as my move in weekend. I told G1 I wanted to go, but I really underestimated how much work had to get done still the week before we moved in. I let her know I didn’t think I could make it to the play and I’d have to make it up to her.
Big mistake. G1 goes to my other nice roommate (NR) and tells her how furious she is that I’m not going to her play and how terrible of a friend I am. G2 is mad at me solely because G1 is and talks just as much trash about me to the rest of our roommates. After 3 days of working really hard putting ALL of our furniture together in our apartment (bc we thought it was a good idea to buy everything from IKEA), NR fills me in on what’s been happening at the townhouse.
Instead of having an adult conversation about how it hurt her feelings, G1 spent the rest of the semester icing me out. It made living at the townhouse difficult for me, so I tried to spend as little time as I could in the house. Even when I was there, they would do everything they could to let me know I was not welcome. Talking loudly about me in the common area when my room is right outside of it, throwing full trash bags and banging against my door when they walked by, petty stuff like that.
By the end of April, I had had enough. I hatched my revenge plan and waited for everyone to go home for Easter break.
I had lived in a townhouse my junior year because I lived with an RA, so I had bought a lot of kitchen utensils and appliances the year before. I offered to bring it all again for senior year, so that way it could get a second use and nobody would have to buy anything extra.
So I hear G1 head home for the weekend and now I am finally alone in the house. I grab my boxes, head to the kitchen and unload each and every cabinet of what belongs to me. This includes pots, pans, dishes, silverware, you name it. All of my cutting boards and knives, my toaster, blender, plastic cups, I even grab my spices to be extra petty. Once I’m done with the kitchen, I go through the common area and take all of my decorations off of the walls. The downstairs bathroom I do the same. I take my Brita out of the fridge and dump it.
Once I was through collecting my things, they had maybe a couple of dishes and an assortment of pans to cook with. The common area was empty except for the school-provided furniture. I felt accomplished, packed up my car, and headed home.
An extra side of petty to go with this: did I need all of these things for my new apartment? Sure, a few. But the majority of my kitchen utensils went to my friend who was a year below me, where he’s keeping them in his basement from the end of April until he moves in next fall. Could I have left it all for another month? Yeah, but if I wasn’t respected in that house, who’s to say my stuff was?
Sure enough, I get a text from NR saying that G1 and G2 are freaking out about how I had left them homeless for the rest of the semester. Since I waited until Easter break and their parents lived a good few hours away from the school, they weren’t going home again for the rest of the semester and had to buy all new kitchen utensils to use for the next month.”