As the saying goes, revenge is even worse. Those who retaliate against people who have wronged themselves in their lives will never forget the sweet moment when they finally get justice. In most cases, the people who get them have never seen it come.

For uninformed bystanders, it is easy to see that someone is having a bad life without realizing that they are really paying for their past sins, but it is more satisfying to put their behavior in context. These true stories are so good that they have to be told online and shared with the world, even if only to teach some people that they should be kind and considerate. If they are not, others may notice and seek revenge.

I live in an apartment building. Each apartment has two end-to-end parking spaces for two parking spaces. Access to the parking floor (1-5) is done through a locked automatic rolling door. People only have a door. Only by remote (or sneaking behind others). I only have one parking space. Sometimes my friends will park them in the space in front of my car if they notify me, so I usually park behind the double space.

Earlier this year, on Friday afternoon, a random car started to park in front of me, which meant I could not drive out on Friday night. Annoying, but when you live very close to the city, this is not the biggest problem. This situation lasts for about five weeks almost every week, when I didn’t park the car in front of the bay (I started to do it), but sometimes I plan to come over for friends or make room for some other time, and this car appears again NS.

I tried many times to stop this behavior by leaving notes. This escalated to printing out a photo of the car with a clearly visible license plate and explaining that if this happened again I would file an accusation and/or tow the car away. Well, It happened again, this time on Saturday afternoon, when I was planning to go out with a group of friends.

My guess is that someone went out on Friday and decided to pick up the car "later" instead of worrying about it causing inconvenience to others. It obviously didn't move because my aggressive note told them to unscrew it, still sitting limply under their wiper blade. I think enough, it's time to tow the vehicle away.

I called the building management department and finally the towing company. They refused to help because the space was on the third floor, and due to height and space constraints, they could not lift any trucks to that height. Normally, most people get messed up at this point. I admit that I briefly considered sitting on the hood of a car until the bastard came to pick it up, and at the same time letting my friends go on the road without me, but They could have made a new transportation arrangement because a car would not cut it.

However, fortunately for me, my parents live 30 minutes away, and there is a garage where I repair one of my cars, and it is undergoing minor repairs at the end. One thing I often use is a set of vehicle positioning jacks, which are directly stuck on the wall of the garage to minimize the space it takes up. For those who don't know, the vehicle positioning jack is basically a device that grooves under each wheel, and then the car is lifted by the hydraulic system so that you can turn freely in any direction.

Although I did not retrieve them initially, when I had to remove my project car from them, a good idea came to my mind. My friend didn't mind spending an extra hour messing up the person who was interfering with us, so we grabbed the jack, then went back, propped the car, and pushed it out. Six people can easily bypass the small hatchback, so we slowly and carefully crossed the checkpoint to an area with no parking space, but there is a pillar supporting the load, and there is enough space behind to accommodate a car. There are no lights in a small part of the garage, which is not a hindrance at all.

Usually there is a person like me who parks the motorcycle there, but he didn't mean it, I doubt he minds. We threw it between the pillar and the wall, nose to the wall, I took back the angry note and the jack, and then we set off to enjoy our weekend. When he came back on Monday afternoon after the long weekend, the car was still there, which is not surprising considering that there is only about a foot of moving space between the pillar and the car, and there is about a foot of space between the car and the wall.

Judging from the fact that the front wheel has changed, we guess that they did try to get it out, but without success. It finally took place later this week, although I'm not sure how they are managed. I never saw that car again.

Story Credit: Reddit / AngryAussieGam3r

I am a 20-year-old girl and I have been teased all my life. I have been recovering for the past year or so. I went to college in the same city where I grew up, so it is very likely that I will meet people who I went to school before and they hurt or tortured me. As we all know, when I was young, I was short-tempered and easily fooled.

What happened: I was in the pharmacy waiting to get my prescription when someone yelled at me. I pretended not to hear, and they shouted again. They eventually felt frustrated and pulled my arm. I turned around and immediately recognized who it was—a person my age who had been teasing me for more than 10 years.

So instead of getting angry, I think I will annoy him and see what happens. Him: Hi, I heard you are near here. Me: I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, where did I meet you? He was immediately discouraged. Seeing this was so great, I had to stop myself from smiling. Him: It's me, [his name], from school. Come on, you know me.

I, looking confused, acted 100: I'm really sorry, I don't know you. Maybe we went swimming together? He: ... No, I don't think so. Me: I'm really sorry, but I just don't know who you are. I think you should be at the end of the line, sir. Then I turned on my phone and blocked him from everything we might be able to contact.

He looked confused, and finally walked to the back of the team. I got the prescription, ignored him, got in my car and drove away. I really screamed with joy, also because I was about to collapse. This is a wonderful feeling. Seeing him like that, I feel that he has no hostility towards me. Let him feel that he does not have much influence on my life, even if he does.

Flash back to 2014...around. In 2013, I moved out by myself, moved into an old house and converted it into a two-story apartment, right across from my future in-laws. The neighbor downstairs is noisy. BLARING music is playing at any time (yes, all time), no mowing or taking out the trash on our shared schedule. Terrible neighbor, but never bother me directly.

This guy is very calm when he is awake, and when I text him, he will turn down the music a bit. He was fine before his girlfriend moved in. Now there is a shouting competition in the mix, and suddenly my request to lower the music makes him turn it up. Without her hitting the ceiling with a broom, I could barely walk on my ultra-thin floor. I am fine, because I slept deeply and can sleep anything.

My wife moved in and I soon discovered that she was just the opposite. The fan is opened at a certain angle at the entrance of the bathroom, the door is half closed, and the blackout curtains are taped to the wall, so there is no light through, and no sound except for the fan, you see. I told her that when she was about to go to bed, we could not expect them to remain silent, we needed to be reasonable, but the music of knocking on the wall needed to be stopped at night.

She hated it during the day, but I told her that there was nothing we could do, so she would often go to her parents' house during the day. I chatted with my neighbor and he said "Yes, this person is cool", but it turns out that his girlfriend doesn't have one, and his attitude changed to, "Yes, this is our house, so if you think you can deceive yourself If you do, you can tell us what to do, and if you don’t like it, you can move out."

Certain things must change at some point. So I did the only thing I could do. I retaliated, maliciously abiding by the law to T, and only called the police after 11:00 in the evening. I now forget the morning time when the noise may start, but I believe it is 9:00 am. There are these huge old concert speakers in my dad’s garage.

Professional grade, black leather binding, 5 feet high and 3 feet wide, very beautiful old-fashioned stereo/amplifier. He has two, but my apartment is too small, unfortunately there is only one space. We replaced our coffee table with this thing and placed it face down on our thin office carpet. Tired of his tunes, when they were not at home, I tested this device that broke the Geneva Convention. Oh my goodness.

I had to take down everything on the table, counter, and shelf because they would shake off. I prepared audio files to feed stereo. I am dizzy like a child holding a new Christmas toy. I opened it when I went to work and asked my wife to get up and send her to see her parents. I went home from get off work and stayed with her parents until it was close to bedtime.

They resisted for three days. The next day, I found a pile of manure at my door, but it did not bother me. I'm colliding sine/sawtooth/square waves of chords, marching music (Washington Post March loop), sermon clips (they are not just atheists, but outspoken anti-Christians, so this is a must) , Cycle between the dumbest songs you can think of (Star Team Captain Theme Song, Chicken Dance, etc.).

The dilapidated house rattled in a way that I thought was impossible. The vibration of the sine wave will blur your vision. I finally received a text message from him, which read: "Sorry, buddy, you can stop now." I didn't. It will take him a few days to let it sink. In addition, I put it together very interesting. They complained to the authorities and the landlord.

There is nothing they can do because I did nothing wrong. In the following peacetime, I didn't even hear music. It's too quiet. When I'm not at home, they will pluck up the courage and try again every few weeks, but my wife is at home. Then I showed her how to tame this beast so she can let it go while I am away. I had to slap them every now and then, but they learned. They were very happy when we moved out.

This happened a few years ago, but it still makes me smile. I started working in a company office as a secretary. This was my first job after graduating from university. There are two older ladies in the office, who are also secretaries. One of them is good, but I sit around and work with Agnes most of the time. Agnes will soon reach retirement age and will not go anywhere without a strong push.

That was in the days when we just started using computers, she had absolutely no hope. She would say "I can't answer the phone-I'm playing on the computer". Multitasking is not within this woman's ability. She is also super picky and annoying. If I came back five minutes late for lunch, she would shout out: "Gosh, you are here! I want to know what's wrong with you!" Make sure the whole office knows that I'm late.

At the same time, she usually arrives late in the morning and often leaves early to attend various appointments. If I make a typo in the file, she will make sure that other employees know it out loud. When things don't go well, she tends to pouting. When someone makes her angry, she "quits", and then my boss's boss will persuade her to stay.

I have heard of her strategy. One day, our boss did something annoyed her, and she "resigned" again. My boss’s boss was not there that day, so I seized the opportunity. I quickly advertised for her and planned a large retirement party for her. By the end of today, this is a completed transaction. People stopped by to congratulate her, and everyone was looking forward to it.

At that time, I guess she felt it was too late to stop her usual pranks, and she actually retired. I told my boss not to bother to change her, because the small tasks she actually completes every day are easy to complete. guess what? it is.

Story source: Reddit / 10S_NE1

About six or seven years ago, I tried to enlist. I didn't join in the end, but this is another story. At this point, I believe I have four months left before the boot camp. My savings are almost running out and I need a part-time job to pay some cash while I wait. So I did what any enterprising 20-something would do and searched for jobs on Craigslist.

I usually hate sales jobs, especially those based on commissions, but I think it will be a good way to earn extra cash in the short term. I found some job listings that looked promising and published some applications. A few days later, I received a call from David. He is opening a new store and needs a partner. He liked my resume and asked me if I would be available for an interview on Friday morning.

I was very frank with him, let him know that this distance is longer than the distance I usually drive for retail work, and asked him what the hourly rate he provided to see if it is worth driving. He told me that they plan to provide hourly rates and commissions in their teens. It looked like a bargain, so I agreed to be there at 8 o'clock on Friday morning.

Friday is a cold rainy day. Wearing a nice shirt and tie, I drove to the address provided by David in heavy traffic. I learned about the area from my previous work and finally found the strip mall I was looking for. However, I did not see any signs with the company name listed. However, there is an unmarked empty seat with two people inside.

Well, maybe they haven't built a store yet. It's no big deal. I arrived early and knew how bad the traffic is in that area. In my car, I saw a young lady in business casual clothes remove a slogan from the window that read "Retail space for rent! Call 1800-bullshit-bullshit." Okay, a little strange, but Maybe this is the first day into space. I walked in about five minutes earlier, and my BS meter immediately rose from yellow to the highest level, "black watch grid".

The tables are simple plastic folding tables. Kind-hearted college students will buy targets on the shopping trip. The walls are covered with laminated charts with lots of dollar signs, smiling faces in stock photos, and an organization chart showing a familiar shape: the pyramid. damn it. Well, might as well play for a while and wait for the traffic jam to go home.

The young lady in a skirt approached me and introduced herself as Cindy. She welcomed me to Company Name and invited me to sit down. She was sitting at her "desk" (another plastic table), pretending to be dealing with paperwork. However, she was really just digging through the documents. We started talking and I asked her how long she had worked for David. She said that she had been his secretary for about six months and I would like it here.

In the end, a person walked out of the backstage. He was in his early 30s, neat and tidy, wearing JCPenney's unsuitable suit. When he walked over, Cindy smiled and said, "Oh, Dennis! Our newcomer is here!" The man stopped and gave her a cold look. "It's David, Cindy. We have solved this problem." He turned to me and gave me his brightest "it's hard to find good help these days" smile.

David asked me to sit down and welcomed me, saying that they would start with the group interview and let me sit in a circle of chairs. Eventually, more people came in and sat down. David stood up and began to thank all of us for coming. He told us about an exciting new opportunity from Cutco! He took out a set of knives and explained how to cooperate with his company, we can make the money we want while setting working hours ourselves.

He also took out a textbook and said how the company's "revolutionary tactics" had even been taught in college textbooks! He opened a page and covered part of it with his hand to make sure that we can all clearly see the word "CUSCO!" In the big letters on the page. Sadly, many other interviewees were very impressed. A pregnant girl seems very excited because she can solve the problems of pregnancy and imminent birth.

David kept talking about how much money he made and "how hard-working people will rise quickly." At this time, David said that he needed to answer the phone quickly and gave us five minutes to drink coffee, chat, etc. When he walked away, he left the college textbook behind him. Oops. So I picked it up, found the specified page, and read it. My discovery made me almost laugh.

As I thought, this is all about the pyramid scheme, and Cutco is one of the biggest examples. It continues to discuss how these are planned, economically unfeasible, and so on. So I decided to share all this with the group. I explained how MLM works and how he deceived us. They didn't seem to believe it, so I said when David came back, I asked them how much we need to pay to start.

Finally let everyone understand what is going on. A few minutes later David walked in, and a girl in the group asked David what we needed to get started. "Well, all you need is your first set of knives to demonstrate! You can sell it directly or ask them to order one and keep it as your demo kit. That's okay. You only need to pay the activation fee for this." At that time, complete chaos broke out.

A child started to stand up and tell him to deceive himself, saying that he was wasting our time and that he was a bastard trying to pull this. The pregnant girl cried because she thought she had found a place where she could work while pregnant. David was obviously confused and panicked and asked who told them all this. When I was obviously the wrench of the machine, David was very upset and started telling me to leave.

People were yelling at David, David was yelling at me, Cindy tried to tell everyone that she had never seen David before today and didn't know what it was. In the end we all walked out, leaving David behind. When I walked to the door, I saw the sign against the wall saying "Retail space for rent! Dial 1800-nonsense-nonsense." When I got in the car, I dialed this number.

Eventually, I contacted a person and asked about the rental property where David’s company is located. The beautiful lady on the other end of the phone apologized, saying that they had just rented out the property. I asked her if she knew the term of the lease because I was very interested in this property. She said she was not sure, they had not completed the formal paperwork. A few hours later, they are on their way to the space to sign everything with the lease holder.

I told her everything that just happened to me, and also about David's use of this space for the pyramid project. She is very upset, saying that this kind of thing happens all the time in the industry. They will sign, and at the last minute, the lease holder will decide to quit, after using it for some night operations. She thanked me for the information, and I thought it was over. Or I think so.

A few weeks later, I received an email from David telling me how I ruined his life. Regarding how the property management department discovered what had happened, and did not refund his down payment on the space. Said that he violated the terms of the instrument he signed to hold the property. How does he know that I am the caller, because I am a terrible person.

Now he spends thousands of dollars on space and supplies, he just wants to work for us and help us. This is a very long, very angry email, which mentions something about me and my mother. So I called 1800-blah-blah again to talk to the same lady I did before, and she was very interested in an email from David and he basically admitted his intentions. Said it would help all of them in the lawsuit. Don’t you know, I’m glad to send that email to her.

Her lawyer said that at the time this should be an open and closed case. I like to think of me as a helper.

Story source: Reddit / Runken_Black_Belt

This happened a few months ago when I was driving my work truck near Amsterdam. This is the largest Mercedes sprinter and can drive without a commercial license. This story takes place on a single-lane road with high curbs on both sides, taking you from block to block. The speed limit is 50 kilometers.

Now, I have driven here many times before, so I feel comfortable doing 60 hours, just a little faster than usual, and there is no risk of being caught by speeding in the city. Suddenly I heard a loud beep behind me, don’t you know, this is a BMW! "What a surprise!" I thought to myself. I guessed that the brand's ability of this car left a deep impression on me because I couldn't see everything in front of the back door in my mirror.

The trailing and honking continued for a while, until I found a great opportunity to teach this bastard with an IKEA pencil a lesson: a long straight section. For those who have not been to the Netherlands before, our government likes two things: taxes and using these taxes to build speed bumps.

Therefore, we have a variety of speed bumps, this straight section is equipped with my personal favorite: the bus bypass variant, the trapezoid block is just enough for ordinary cars to pass through it with at least one wheel, but the bus can pass through. Pass it unimpeded. I have practiced a lot of these obstacles and lined up to achieve a perfect pass while accelerating to a numbing 70 kilometers.

The BMW is still glued to my rear bumper. I didn't go over obstacles inconveniently. However, the unsuspecting BMW driver hit it in the worst possible way. When the suspension was compressed on him, he slammed himself into the ceiling of the car and ground his oil pan. After that little incident, he kept a good distance.

Story Credit: Reddit / Maar7en

Not long ago, I was working in a baseball store (or a similar grocery store) called Bal-Mart, shortly after the Great Recession in 2008, and management tried to cut costs due to falling profits. The first thing the management did was to fire two of the three full-time maintenance and cleaning staff. The person they left behind, I will call him the MG of the maintenance staff, his job is very good.

Because he and he are willing to go beyond what is needed to help people, everything in the store is working well. A really good person. For six months, the management tried to get one-third of the maintenance staff to work, but failed. MG can't do everything. As time goes on, the management increasingly asks him to "coordinate" some part-time jobs that should be cleaning and carts. He spent so much time "coordinating" that he didn't have time for maintenance.

Night shift personnel have also been laid off, so they cannot make up for this. Then two things happened within a week. These events tell the management how important he is to the good operation of the store. First of all, some cleaning machines are broken. It turns out that they must be properly cleaned once a week. If they are ignored, they will become very bad and the parts will wear out quickly. Several thousand dollars in repair costs, because he was told to prioritize coordinating part-time staff rather than "fixing" the machine.

A few days later, the slicer blade of the deli flew up and might severely cut her face, which made the deli girl almost quit her job. It turned out that the bolt securing it was loose, and MG tightened it for her every week. When he didn't have time to do this again, he told the management that it must be replaced for safety. Well, the management didn't do it because it cost money, but they told people it was fixed.

That might be a lawsuit; they and the deli lady were lucky. So the management sat down with him and asked him why things went wrong. MG told them bluntly that he needed enough time for maintenance and that someone had to coordinate part-time cleaners and inspect them (they were lazy). Management called him a liar; they said maintenance should be quick and easy.

MG was angry because it insulted his professionalism, and he took out his notebook from his back pocket. It turns out that in his 15 years, he filled the book with charts, timetables, and diagrams, explaining how to complete his work and keep it going. He checks more than one hundred every week or month. He keeps many machines running normally, some machines are half broken and must be oscillated in some way, and so on.

To be honest, many of these things are minor or major safety hazards, but for many years, if MG knew how to keep the machines working, management would not replace machines that cost thousands of dollars. He also did some things he shouldn't do, such as calibrating machines for departments that should be done by himself or outsourced, etc., but he is a good person and he likes to help others.

He told me that it took him about half an hour to tell the management what he did, and he suspected that no one knew how much he did before that. Well, he may have said some swear words and derogatory words when telling the management why he needs time to do things, this is not a good time for him, he is very angry. Finally, he put the notebook back in his pocket and offered to write down everything he knew in a week, so that the management would write evidence that his work was important, in case the superiors asked why they added it when they were in the company. Maintenance costs. Ask them to cut costs.

Several managers in the room looked at each other and told him to leave and chat privately. He told me (a few years later, when I met him somewhere and had lunch with him) he had a hunch when he walked out of the room. So he went to the secret room and threw the notebook into the garbage compressor. For better measures, he then went around the store, emptied all the trash cans, and threw the bags in so that his notebook was properly buried.

He is fine, all the information is in his mind. A few minutes later, the management called him back. They told him that they could not let him continue to work there because of the degree of disobedience he showed. They said that as long as he handed over his badge, box opener and notebook, the security would escort him out of the building. He handed over his badge and box opener, and then they asked for a notebook.

He said he threw it into the compactor. They widened their eyes and asked him why he threw it away. He said he thought he would write everything from his memory on the computer, so he thought his notebook was finished. At this point, the management began to look at each other, worried, because they planned to take his book, fire him, and let a part-time employee with a lower level of subordinates (he doesn’t get expensive benefits like a full-time employee). Do his job.

Now they can't. One of the managers suggested that he be allowed to write down information before being escorted out, and the others agreed. He has a chance not to be fired, as long as he provides them with information long enough. How considerate. He walked out with a smile, head held up, and the management followed him into his car to make sure he left. I don’t have exact numbers, but I guess this store will spend at least two to three thousand dollars to replace things that MG continues to work beyond the life of the equipment, and the new people they hire took a long time to figure out how things work. .

To be honest, in some cases, MG went too far, such as sticking damaged chargers together after rewiring instead of throwing them away, which caused a fire hazard, but the management never saved them money. Complained. There are also many things that health and safety teams or departments should do, but they never complain about the reduced workload.

I asked him if it was illegal to throw away the notebook, but he said it was personal property to help him remember things; it was not a notebook provided by work. He is proud of what he has done, and his pride is clearly reflected in the way he tells the story. He said that no one can question his professional judgment by suggesting that he is lazy. I agree.

I was helping my friend move last weekend. We were driving on a two-lane highway with a speed limit of 50 and around 10 in the evening. A lifted truck jumped sharply, and blue, dazzling high beams and fog lights accelerated from behind. It is quite common for people to run on this road in the middle of the night and there are few other people on the road.

I followed my friend in the left lane, and then overtook another car, which was in the right lane. In the beginning, I was like something, idiot, I would go back to the right and let him pass. I'm too tired to deal with this problem, and I have been running back and forth all day. Well, even though I gave the signal and I started to merge into the right lane, the truck decided to go around and drive another car in the right lane, so I couldn't complete the lane change.

Okay, idiot. So I decided to move on and overtake the person on the right. He immediately turned and rode on me again. The friend in front of me finally saw what was going on. He moved to the right lane and I stopped next to him. We all smiled at each other and decided to mess up the truck. We've all talked before about how we hate bastards on trucks that drive like idiots.

First, my friend speeded up a bit, the bastard cut in like he was going through, then he slowed down, I speeded up, and then he cut back again. We did this for about two miles until the speed limit dropped to 25 before the middle lane opened. We all slowed down to exactly 25 at the "reduce ahead" sign before the actual sign, which made this guy even more angry.

He decided to pass by us on the center lane and cross the intersection RIGHT PAST A COP SUV. The officer quickly turned around, turned on the lights, and drove the truck at a speed of 70 within 25 hours. We finally arrived at my friend's house, and we couldn't stop laughing during the whole process of opening our luggage. It provided us with the morale needed to complete that night.

This is a job about me and about 200 other employees being promised and receiving bonuses. This company is a financial services company known for its high salaries, but one year they decided to withhold bonuses. That's how I handled it. So I work for a financial company: 1,800 employees, 200 sales people. I am one of the sales staff.

We held the annual meeting in April. This is a big deal. Most employees attended, the CEO delivered an important speech about the previous year being the best year in the company's history, and so on. In the next month, in May, each of us submitted a memorandum that basically proved why we were or should be eligible to receive the bonus at the end of June. I wrote mine and explained the sales growth in my area in the past 12 months and the percentage of my sales to last year's total sales.

To end the best year the company has ever had, it should be a dunk, right? All of us are excited about our June revenue. June is here and my bonus is zero. zero. But it's not just me. Sales offices are everywhere. Less than 20% of salespeople received bonuses, and everyone was angry. All the supervisors are dealing with angry subordinates, as are the sales managers, even the VPs and directors above him.

Everyone is angry and disobedient, angry accusation emails are flying all over the sky, and the company is facing mutiny. To make matters worse, the situation gets worse when supervisors receive bonuses that they can decide for themselves. Most of them accepted them, but a couple—knowing that their subordinates would not get anything—refused. My supervisor took his.

When it came out, he tried to explain to his sales team that he thought it was reasonable and how hard he worked. He eventually made people scream at him how they felt, but they didn't get Jack. So in a week or so, things on the floor stopped. Many people just didn't show up, and those who showed up were very angry.

I came in and started reading Monster.com ads on my desk. I also stop selling anything or answer my phone calls. When I faced my boss, I told him that once I got the bonus, my sales proved reasonable and I would start working again. Until then, I will be late, read and reply to the ads I want, and then leave early. He can count on me to stay in this state until I find another job or be fired.

The next day, I was sent to the regional sales manager's office. She said she had heard about my suspension and asked me to explain. I told her that if she had heard about it from my supervisor, then she already knew why I didn't work, and I didn't need to explain it anymore. She tried to be friends with me, friendly, then stern, then angry.

I remained calm and told her that the longer the company held my bonus, the more it would miss sales in my area. Then I gave her my average daily sales for the previous year, which quantified the total loss I would not sell for a week, and how much cheaper it would be to pay for the money I owe me and let me come back.

Then I thanked her for her time and told her that I would leave work as soon as I left her office. I did it. The next day, I came in to check my emails — some of which were farewell emails from colleagues who had resigned due to bonuses — and sat on Monster.com until I was told to go to the office of the national sales manager. He is the janitor; he is in charge of all of our 200 people.

He told me he understood that I was frustrated and could understand why. I asked him whether it was his idea to withhold bonuses from 80% of the sales staff or someone else's idea. He did not answer. He did tell me that I would receive a check on Monday, can I go back to work now? I told him that I would go back to my desk, but would not start working until the check was in my hand.

When I went back to check my email-yes, more defections. The next day, the entire sales team received an email: Management reviewed the numbers, reassessed the financial situation, and decided that the June bonus would be issued soon. The email also apologized for the delay and reminded us that as a salesperson, we are the core of the company and our hard work is appreciated.

I also received another email, this time from the National Sales Manager. He told me that although the bonus was scheduled on Monday, he would send my check to my desk the next day. The next day, I showed up and sat down. Soon after, the national sales manager came over and handed me a bonus check. In this way, I completed my revenge.

I thanked him and immediately handed over my resignation to him. In my resignation letter, I asked to give me a check for my unused vacation time before I left the building. When he finished reading, I told him that I would clear my desk while waiting for the holiday check. While I was doing this, one of my colleagues immediately resigned.

We went out at the same time and ended up drinking at the bar across the street. Later, I learned from my colleagues that even though the company gave out bonuses, they lost about 20% of their sales staff in the next two months. Must like corporate greed. By then, the company had a history of more than 30 years and was known for its generous salaries. It had never played a game with bonuses or rewards before.

We bought a house a few months ago, and the seller insisted that we pay some small fees that are usually borne by the seller. The total is 187 US dollars. Compared with the house price, we will not walk away because of such a small thing. We renovated the house and there is a table/bookcase at the entrance.

After dismantling, we plan to throw it away. When one of the neighbors noticed that we had left it outside to be thrown away, they texted the old owner and asked if they wanted it because they said it was something they liked about the house. The old owner texted me, since we are going to throw it away, then we surely don’t mind if they come and pick it up, right?

I am interesting to tell them that we recently received offers from others... to buy it for $187. Since it was originally theirs, I told them that we would be happy to give it up for $188. They gave up the check and got it back a week later.

I was visiting my friend at his father's house. The land there was very steep and all the lanes had to turn from the main road to the house. A straight lane is not an option because it is steeper than the building code allows. Across a few doors, a nice old couple lived. They had a vacant lot next door, but recently this lot has been sold, and the new owner has started to build a new house.

Unfortunately, the land was so steep that the new owner built a partial driveway on the old couple’s land (excavated from the hillside with an excavator). If the new owner starts a conversation with the old couple and asks nicely, it may not be a big deal, but is he? If he did, would I tell this story? In fact, the old couple didn't know what happened until they got home one day and saw a huge scar on the hillside, winding up the road in front of their house.

It passes through a corner of their property and winds up to a place where an excavator is preparing land for their new neighbor's house. They were very upset, but as kind and sensible people, they thought it was an honest mistake, so they walked over to talk to the machine operator. He didn't know anything useful, but he was happy to give them the phone number of the new owner.

The old guy called him and explained the situation politely, but the new neighbor he had never met knew nothing. He categorically denied that the driveway had crossed the property line, and he was so rude and rude that the old guy was very upset. At this time, the old couple didn't know what to do. They carefully checked the property certificates to make sure they were right, of course they were right, but after further conversations with the new owner, it became clear that he was an unreasonable person and would not come to the negotiating table willingly.

The old couple did not want to file a lawsuit because it would be expensive and, frankly, their yard was damaged. At the same time, they can't just let one person walk around on them, especially if they live next door in the foreseeable future. Therefore, as the construction of the new house continued, the situation continued for a while, until one day, my friend's father saw the old couple nearby and they started chatting.

Of course, they told him the story about this bastard's new neighbor. Now, my friend's father really likes this old couple. They don't have a mean bone in them, so he is very angry with this situation and can't let it go after returning home. That night, after a few drinks, he had a brilliant idea. He called the old couple, explained his plan, and asked for their consent.

They smiled and agreed, so he jumped on the old rusty full-size pickup that he left behind as the second car and drove it to the old couple’s place, where he parked it in the occupied area. On the driveway, make sure it is completely their property. The next morning, the staff arrived early and found that they could not drive to the house they were building because an old F-150 was parked on the opposite side of the driveway by an asshole.

They saw a note on the window with the phone number of my friend's father written on it, so they called him to ask what happened. He explained that he got permission from the owner to park the car there, no, he would not move his truck so that they could go to work. In addition, if someone tries to tow the truck, they will be charged with trespass and theft.

It is impossible for the construction workers to drag all their tools up the mountain by hand, and they do not want to be involved in a lawsuit, so they just call the new owner to let him know that they will take a day off, and they will continue to rest for a few days until the property boundary The dispute was resolved. The new owner called the old couple furiously, but the old couple told them the same things my friend's father told the construction workers.

Basically, the vehicle is parked on their own property, so if he has a problem, he can do it himself. To make the already long story shorter, the new neighbor roared for a while, but in the end he wanted to build his house, so the friendly old couple ended up getting a large sum of money in exchange for allowing the driveway to cross. The easement is a corner of their property, and my friend's father got a few boxes of thank you drinks and the satisfaction of putting a bastard in his place.

One of my best friends "Alex" is a clerk in the legislative office. His boss is the head of an important Senate budget committee, so there are always people who come to seek senators’ support for specific projects or grants or anything else. People representing art projects that are looking for a $250,000 grant are waiting. I will call her "LobbyAnn".

She went to the reception and asked for a pen. The senator kept a gift of pens with her name in stock-pretty good-so Alex reached out to the jar where the pen was. LobbyAnn said something like "Well, then the senator will know that I didn't show up with a pen." (So what?) She looked across the table.

Alex started some work with his favorite pen, an expensive pen with lapis lazuli inlaid on it, engraved with his name and the tenure of the campus organization. LobbyAnn reached out and grabbed it and put it in her purse. Alex was a very polite person, completely dumbfounded, and then told LobbyAnn that it was his personal pen and could not be robbed.

A few minutes later, the senator came out to find LobbyAnn. When they walked past Alex's desk, he stood up and said in a very clear voice: "I need to get my pen back." LobbyAnn stopped, the Senator also stopped, and Alex was calm. Said: "That pen is precious to me, you took it off the table, and I want it back."

The senator gasped a little and said, "She took your green pen?" Then she turned to LobbyAnn, who was frantically groping in her wallet, stammering about borrowing money, and then said , "Give it back." Once the pen returned to Alex, the senator said to Alex, "Come back, I need you," and then turned and walked back to her office, leaving Robian standing there. There, the senator closed the inner door of the office in front of her.

Then the senator picked up her purse with a big smile and said, "Do you want a Starbucks?" So she and Alex walked out the side door and crossed the street. They can see the front door of the office from Starbucks. Obviously, it took LobbyAnn about five minutes to realize how bad she messed up, and she would not see the Senator that day or any other day.

Indeed, her project for money is also doomed to fail. She has strong support in the House of Representatives, so it may pass, although this is not a project that senators like. When she sneaked out, she was almost certain to see Alex and the Senator sitting there drinking. Alex always ends the story with "That's the best coffee I have ever had".

In high school (more than 10 years ago), I was quiet and attentive in class. The teachers like me. I am not popular, but I have very good friends. I say all this to show that high school is relatively peaceful for me. I participate in sports, have been in the student newspaper, and have good grades. However, all this changed the second semester of my junior year.

I have always been a greedy reader. My freshman English teacher suggested that I upgrade to the Honors English course, so I did it in the first half of freshman, sophomore and junior year. Then I was assigned to classical literature in the second semester of my junior year. I have always liked the stories of Greece and Rome, and have read your typical high school classic reading list by myself.

I don't mind reading it again...until I met Ms. Umbridge. She pretends to be sweet, but she is downright evil. She also decided that she hated me. I still don't know why, or what crime I committed, but she hates me. I think this is my habit of dozing off in class sometimes. At that time, I had an undiagnosed thyroid problem and got up at 5 am to practice swimming.

I say sometimes because it may happen twice a month between all eight classes. I don't remember dozing off in her class, but this may have happened. In any case, her class is 50% essay/written report. The rest are random quizzes and some tests. I am in the student newspaper, and I am a decent writer.

I am not worried about keeping B or up. We wrote the first paper, and I got a D. I was shocked. The only class I encountered difficulties was chemistry, and my minimum homework grade was still C. After class, I asked Ms. Umbridge what I did wrong because she had very few notes. She told me that my evaluation of these materials was "uninspiring."

Ok...can you guide me to give an example of a heuristic evaluation? "Come back in the study room." Thinking she would have some sample materials for me to review, I got a pass so that I could see her in the study room. Do not. She spent an entire hour basically telling me that I was an idiot. I remember crying when I left because she didn't tell me anything constructive.

My friend (the final farewell speaker) is willing to help me finish my next paper. My friend and I spent a few hours on the next paper. She has never been below A-...I got another D. My friend is very angry. She took it to her AP English teacher and asked him to review it. She said that she is participating in a writing competition and needs advice. His answer proved everything.

He said it was great. Her typical A works. My friend accepted it sooner and asked me for a copy of my initial first assignment. She asked her AP English teacher to check it too...he said she should be the first one. The second one is good. He might give it an A-, but another paper is better. At this point, my friend is convinced that Ms. Umbridge is unfair to me for some reason, and she must not like me.

My friend wants me to tell my parents or my school counselor. The teacher doesn't like me? That never happened. Of course, not all of them love me, but no one actively dislikes me. I decided to try again, but this time let Ms. Umbridge help me. Despite the fear of having spent the study room with Ms. Umbridge before, I went to her office three times during the study room before the next paper was due.

She reviewed the paper and gave me suggestions for revision every time. She did this with a red pen. I took notes. By the time the next paper is due, I have revised three versions, and each version has written her notes in red ink. I got a D. She smiled and congratulated me on my progress. witch. I finished. My friend is right. This witch made suggestions for me and deliberately gave me bad reviews.

I am a laid-back person, but I am very angry. Never been so angry before. So I began to retaliate. I gave my paper to my newspaper teacher. Of course, he did not teach English, but our student papers continue to win awards for his work. I told him that there was a problem with my English, and asked him to look at my paper and give me suggestions.

He was a little confused why I didn't ask my English teacher, but he did it. He also told me it was great, but gave me some small changes. I asked him if he thought it was B or better. He said he would give it an A, not 100%, but a reliable A. I went to my friend and we brainstormed. I cannot request deletion/addition. This is not a university.

You just don't change classes in my high school unless the teacher recommends an honor placement. That's not true, my friend said. Rugby and basketball players have been transferred to more relaxed classes to maintain their grades so that they can qualify for the game. The track and field director is a friend of my father, so I asked to meet him and my swimming coach one day after school.

I told them that I was in danger of losing my swimming qualifications because I got a D in class. I want to transfer courses, but I know that I need to get approval from the management department. I won't get approval without good reason. They asked me if I asked for help. I explained that I had asked many people for help, but my grades did not improve.

I do not know what to do. They asked to see my paper. I sat while they were reading. They both looked at me in confusion. Neither of them can understand how these papers are only worth a D. The student vice-principal was brought in. He asked who helped me. I explained to my friend (he knows who she is and is the future farewell speaker), and she even asked her AP English teacher to check some suggestions.

I also asked my newspaper teacher to help me. The vice president of students asked me if I really asked my teacher for help. I smiled and handed him three revised No. 3 papers, which were covered with Ms. Umbridge’s red ink. He frowned. The AP English teacher and my newspaper teacher were drawn into the meeting. Each of them was asked to grade the paper.

All three papers received A- or better grades. In this case, my father was called by the track and field supervisor. My dad is also very angry. He asked me to be transferred to another class and asked for a review of Ms. Umbridge. Obviously, she is not scoring students based on their work, but based on her own personal opinions. The school administration is clearly angry at allegations that teachers have treated students unfairly.

There was a lot of controversy in the vice president’s office, and I was not allowed to sit down. When six adult men were arguing about the appropriate next steps, I could hear a lot of shouts. It was decided that I, my father, the vice president and the sports director would meet with Ms. Umbridge. We all met before school the next morning. This is where it rises.

Ms. Umbridge seemed to think she would tell everyone why I was so stupid. VP explained that if I keep D in her class, I will lose my extracurricular qualifications and we will all meet to discuss what to do. She smirked and said that I should be transferred to a non-honours English course, and that I am not obligated to study Honor English.

Obviously, I do not have the ability to understand the complex classical literature they are learning, and I may need a tutor to learn basic English. I have never seen my father so red, and I'm kind of looking forward to seeing steam coming out of his ears. The VP asked her why she didn't try to help me improve. She said that students should take the initiative to get better.

The vice president asked if this meant that I never asked her for help. She said I didn't. Oh, but we treat her very well. The VP then took out three revised versions of the third paper and gave them to Ms. Umbridge. Now it was her turn to blush. She said that I was a liar and that those notes were not hers. Things got so intense, I was asked to leave again.

I sit outside the office. This time it was the secretary, and we all heard the shouting. School is about to start in 30 minutes, and they all just yelled. Then I called AP English teacher and newspaper teacher. Shouting too much. About five minutes after the class started, the teacher left and I was called back.

Ms. Umbridge then walked out of the vice president's office and shot me. I was transferred to basic English effective immediately. My current grades will not be carried forward. I don’t need to make up any past homework, and the new teacher will be instructed to grade me only based on future homework. My new English teacher, Ms. Honey, eventually became the head of the English department.

She is at least 65 years old and has been doing this for decades. After 2.5 years of Honor English, this course is easier than PE. I hardly have to try to get an A, but I refuse to let Ms. Honey think Ms. Umbridge is right. I worked harder in that class than any other class in that semester. I finished the project so quickly that I was asked to tutor a girl who was struggling in class.

I spent half of the class time to help the girl understand the material. I helped her change from C- to B. I got 104% in class. At the end of the semester, Ms. Horney called me to her office in the study room. Then she told me something that shocked me—and also scared me. She suggested that I return to the honors English course in my senior year.

I must look panicked because she immediately assured me that Ms. Umbridge would not be my teacher. In fact, she will not be anyone's teacher. She left at the end of the school year. Ms. Umbridge was only in her 20s and unmarried. Retirement is too early. My high school is located in one of the highest-income school districts in the state.

I knew what it meant to leave, and then Ms. Honey explained that I was deliberately assigned to her class. The school administration trusts Ms. Honey to ascertain the authenticity of Ms. Umbridge’s claim that I am basically a lying idiot. Ms. Honey said that I obviously belong to Honor English. If her class is not challenging enough for me, she will apologize.

I cried. I mean my face is ugly, my nose is crying. I didn't realize it, but before that moment, part of me actually believed in Ms. Umbridge. Ms. Honey hugged me and comforted me. I spent my senior year in honors English class and tutored Ms. Honey’s struggling students in the study room. To this day, I still often think of that terrible woman.

My profession is mainly writing, and I am still obsessed with writing. I hope she never teaches again, because she wreaked havoc on my self-confidence. I am sorry for anyone who has had their own story about Ms. Umbridge. Sadly, there are so many existences that wreak havoc on self-conscious teenagers. Don't let your Umbridge let you down! You are better than Umbridge. Go out and do what Umbridge said you shouldn't do.

I work from home. I received a notification on my phone that my Amazon package has arrived. This is an item of several hundred dollars, so I went out immediately-but without any packages. I was outside when the delivery van drove away, so it is almost impossible for someone to steal it within 20 seconds. Amazon drivers are two houses.

"Excuse me. I received a notice that my package had just arrived, but it was not there." The driver looked shocked and stammered. "Oh, uh, what's the address?" I gave him my address. "Yeah, I just delivered it to you." "No, you didn't. I called Amazon and you can all solve this problem." I started walking away. The driver shouted: "Oh, I found your package. But it said there was a problem and I could not deliver it. This is likely to be a duplicate, and the other driver will provide the correct one later."

"Then why did you mark it as delivered?" "Oh, because I didn't see an error. Another driver will be there later." "No, I'm calling Amazon now." I walked away and called Reported this to Amazon. They said there was no problem with my package and marked it as delivered. I told them about the interaction, and they said the driver should give me a package.

Even if it is a duplicate, the driver should not detain the package. They will investigate and respond to me within 24 hours. Two minutes after calling Amazon, my doorbell rang. I happened to be next to the door, so I opened the door in five seconds and saw the same delivery driver dragging his ass in my driveway.

He jumped into his delivery van and hurried across the neighborhood. I looked down, and my package was there. I called Amazon again to let them know that I just received the package and it was the same driver who was dragging the tail. They said they would investigate the driver. I also told them how fast he drove through the community.

I feel like Karen called and complained, but I really believe that this driver is engaging in a parcel scam. He marked the package as delivered and the customer said they had never received it. The driver said, "Well, someone might have taken it before you looked for it."

It has been almost four years since this incident happened. I was about 18 years old at the time and worked in a security company. There are constant cancellations, no performances, and I don't know why. But because I was too young and naive, I often worked 16-hour shifts and didn't go home until 8 in the morning. In addition, I lived with my father at the time. The time frame is around July 4.

I finally took a day off, and my best friend went back to the city for vacation. We decided to gather together to enjoy some nice American fireworks. To be fair, I only have a bad experience with fireworks, so I don’t know what I think will be different. We returned home with fireworks and put them all on the floor.

There are fireworks, bottle rockets, cakes and Roman candles. I said, "It's still dark, why don't we get some fireworks?" Good idea! We walked into my backyard, where it had not rained for more than two months and it was very dry. Do you see the problem here? A small spark from my friend's fireworks touched the ground and caused two small fires, which quickly spread to a large area.

I ran as fast as I could to grab the garden hose and quickly began to breathe fire. It is useless, it spreads faster than I spray it. I handed the hose to my friend and dialed 9-1-1. It felt like only four minutes in a few hours, and the fire spread to the neighbor's fence. The neighbors walked outside, picked up their hoses, and sprayed the burning grass on the fence and her yard.

The fire brigade finally appeared, and I told my friend, "We only have one person who needs to get into trouble. You should leave." He was reluctant to leave because he felt he had the same responsibility, but I convinced him. I don't want him to get in trouble. At first, my neighbor was very indifferent to the whole situation. I told her that we could talk about replacing the fence and get some quotes to repair it.

She was just very grateful that everyone was okay. About two hours after the fire broke out, fire investigators came to ask me about the fire. I told him "the truth". I said I was playing with fireworks in the backyard by myself and accidentally lit the ground. I got out of the car that day without any charges and was praised for my honesty. This is where it descends very fast.

About a week later, I heard the neighbor knock on the door. I opened the door and she handed me two pieces of paper for me to read. The price of the fence is approximately US$4,000, and the estimated value of the lawn care is approximately US$6,000. These are really dark, just typed in a Microsoft Word document without a logo or company name.

Then she added, "I want you to pay for my water bill for three months, because the new yard needs a lot of water." Now, the woman's previous fence is already in ruins and is collapsing. Her yard? There are weeds everywhere, and she never mows. Now looking at this piece of paper, she wants a mahogany fence, a brand new backyard with flowers and trimmed hedges?

I said, "I need to estimate it by myself. It doesn't feel right." She said, "Remember, you agree to replace my fence, and the real man will keep his promise." I closed the door, called my dad, and told him just now. Things that happened. He rolled his eyes and told me, "Son, don't give that woman a dime." He gave his number to his handyman and told me to take care of it.

The next day, I asked the man to come out for an estimate, and the neighbor ran outside waving his arms. "I did not allow you to estimate my fence." Technically, it separates the property line, so it is our two fences. She called the authorities because I had a contractor and they couldn't do anything in the end because I was on my property.

He quickly completed the valuation of 1,200 US dollars. I also know a person who is responsible for lawn care while working in a grocery store. He estimated that it would cost about $800 to replant the lawn when she left the house. After I got these estimates, I gave the copy to the woman, but she didn't. "I don't know these people. I don't want them to be near my house. They may be very bad contractors."

I said, "No, I know them personally. They are really good people and they work great." She closed the door in front of me, and I continued on the road. I was on a 16-hour shift that night, and I got home at 8 in the morning. The woman knocked on my door at 9 in the morning and asked me to talk to her. I explained: "I really want to do this, but I just got home and must be back to work in less than 5 hours. I want to sleep."

She said, "What lazy idiot sleeps until two o'clock in the afternoon?" At this point, I almost lost it and told her, "Either you accept my $2,000 offer or you kiss my ass and get nothing." She was there. Standing for a while, her mouth was open, but she accepted my offer and planned to meet at the notary office the next morning. That night I wrote a contract after get off work and collected $2,000 in cash.

I woke up the next morning and took this contract to the notary office to meet. I am so happy that I finally completed this extensive work and never spoke to her again. But the matter is not over yet. I waited for her for more than three hours and she did not show up. I received her call and said, "I'm sorry that 2,000 is not enough. I will let my people start work on this project, and you will pay me the full price."

Oh, really? After that, I didn't say a word to her. I observed for a few months. These guys turned her backyard into an oasis, with a small pond, brand new turf and flowers, nine yards. Only when she came did she knew that she had planned to transform these things a long time ago, and she was waiting for the opportunity to experience it.

It was also at this time that she used her renovation funds to travel to Hawaii. Do you know how I knew about this? She brags about it in a nearby Facebook group without knowing that I am in it. My Facebook name is different from my real name. Are you ready for revenge? Now four months after the fire and all the renovations, I have received the documents filed in court for $10,300.

At the age of 18, I had to hire a lawyer to handle my case. When we finally entered the court, I made everything clear. Quotation, was harassed many times, did not show up after agreeing to the transaction, did not want me to get my own quotation (by the way, legal requirements), and she boasted that she defrauded me from money-I have evidence to prove all this of.

The judge looked at her and said, "Madam, with all due respect, you are crazy. Not only did this young man tell the truth about what happened, but he also offered to pay you more than he should. Yours The lawn was gone before the fire, so he was only responsible for the $1,200 fence. I will also deduct his attorney's fees from it." So I burned this woman's fence and I only need to give her $400? Cool.

She suffered huge economic losses as a result. I don't know how much her trip to Hawaii cost, but she owes a lot of debts. She eventually had to sell the house and moved into a smaller house. I haven't heard anything from her since then. Now, I am not saying that I am not sad about burning down the neighbor’s fence. I feel very sad about this and hope we can handle it more civilly.

I would be happy to meet in the middle or get multiple quotes. To this day, I still don’t use fireworks because we might really hurt someone.

My little revenge story is a bit disgusting, so I apologize in advance. I am sensitive/intolerant to most meats. Red meat is the worst, beef is particularly bad. The doctor advised me to get protein from other sources as much as possible, so I have been happily becoming a vegetarian since I was about 13 years old. When I was young, my aunt didn't trust doctors and thought I was too picky.

We are from a small town of meat and potatoes, so she has many friends to support her. This is the same aunt who convinced my parents that I was a fake pant (it turns out that I was not... shocking), and also refused to wear glasses to her own daughter because she thought she just wanted them to be noticed. She later discovered that her daughter's eyesight was very poor... I know, this was another shocking event.

The whole family often eat together and take turns to entertain. When it was my aunt's turn to host, she assured me that my burger was meatless. As you might guess, this is not the case. I was very hungry that night and swallowed my (beef) burger first. Auntie smiled, I thought it was just because I like her to cook. Looking back, I realized that her little smirk was because she thought she found that I was lying or achieving her ultimate goal. She will regret it.

Well, a few minutes passed, and there was that familiar, unpleasant sensation in my stomach. Only then did I realize what she did and why she smiled. When I eat meat, I almost always get sick. I just can't help it. So, when I was about to kneel in front of the porcelain throne, I decided to stay still. Instead, I aimed at the aunt who was sitting at the table next to me.

This story is widely known in my family, and even after many years, my friends often talk about it and make jokes. Backstory: I was a high school student at the time and I was never the smartest student. Despite this, I am still a solid C-level student and I have never been detained or have any bad student records.

This is very important, because to this day, I still don't understand why the teacher treats me like this. This teacher, we will name Mrs. Frank, where she has been a teacher for more than ten years, as everyone knows, she is a small and ruthless witch, regarded as a golden boy by the administrator. Mrs. Frank teaches algebra, which is my worst subject, so naturally I will encounter problems in understanding the course and will often ask questions.

For some people, these questions are easy to answer, but for me, this is rocket science. Usually when someone asks a stupid question, no one should solve it. However, in Mrs. Frank’s case, she would belittle me in front of everyone, saying "Slow boy is here again", "Wow, surprise, surprise you don't understand again." "Really? We must do it for you today. Doubly slow, isn't it?" Wait.

I tried to ask the government for help, but she was again considered a golden boy. During class, they will send someone to check on her. She will be polite and normal one day, and then she will become a witch the next day. This continued for about half a year, until I had enough. I went to the local Radio Shack, bought a tape recorder, and secretly recorded every insult she made to me.

I sometimes encourage to make up for lost time. Come on, feed the fire. Fast forward to the end of the year, and when I asked a question, I was sitting in Mrs. Frank's class. Her reaction burned in my mind. "I have been teaching here for more than 10 years. This is the dumbest question I have ever heard from anyone."

She didn't answer me and continued the class. I stood up calmly, packed my things, and walked to the nurse's office to leave school. I got home, compiled all the cruel tapes into a brilliant masterpiece, and showed it to the administrators the next day. I sat down with the principal and we heard a few insults before he stopped me.

He wanted more witnesses and Mrs. Frank's presence. He told me that we would meet the next day, where I could show him and other administrators the complete tape. I walked into school the next morning was the most nervous thing in my history. I was called to the office, where I met some board directors, local school officials, principals, deputy principals, and Mrs. Frank. The next few minutes are the most important of my life.

I watched as the administrators grew tired of attending another useless meeting and became angry and speechless. Some of them kept their mouths open during the recording. I also saw Mrs. Frank go from being confident and persevering until she realized that she had screwed up and couldn't repair it. She publicly set herself on fire in front of the most important people in the area.

At the end of the recording, the administrators looked around without hesitation, and the principal turned to me and said: "I think we have heard everything we need, thank you." I was quietly fired from the room. The last time I saw Mrs. Frank was to leave that room. I looked back and we made eye contact through her tearful eyes, and I showed the biggest and most evil smile.

I went back to class next week, but I couldn't find Mrs. Frank. This story quickly spread throughout the school, and I was regarded as a saint. I successfully fired her, making it almost impossible for Mrs. Frank to return to her teaching career, and severed most of her contact with other teachers in the school.

I ruined her financially because no school district in the area would employ this kind of walking garbage. If you are reading this Mrs. Frank, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you to humiliate yourself.

Story Credit: Reddit / Johnny_Provolone

I am waiting for my flight to board at a major airport on the east coast. This young, sleek, loud business kid walked in during the conference call and yelled at his Apple earbuds. Putting his bag on a free seat, he began to pace around on the floor, walking up and down the aisle, completely unaware that dozens of people were eating lunch, working quietly, and sleeping with babies.

He continued to pace and yelled: "Yes, yes, we will upload it to the system... wait, jargon abbreviations and business," annoyed everyone around him and made others avoid him. People began to show him with smelly eyes, but his shouting and pacing continued, and his circle widened and widened until he walked out of sight, then came back around, still shouting into the air.

After 20 minutes, I was over. The child walked away quickly, and during the three minutes or so he was pacing in the terminal, he put down his backpack. So I walked up to a TSA guard, pointed to the bag, "Sir, there is an unclaimed backpack in that seat!" Then I walked away. The TSA started making announcements, trying to find the owner of the bag, but the business guy was too careless, pacing and yelling.

When he realized and chased them, TSA had already taken the bag away. It's too late, he is a suspect, and he must follow them out of the terminal for baggage inspection. It's quiet again now.

All this happened to me a few years ago. I told a friend of my divorce story, and someone told me to share it. I thought we were very happy. We are your usual suburban professional couple. Economically safe, healthy, and good bedroom life, with two children-a 14-year-old girl and a 9-year-old boy. I think we also have a healthy social life.

We are experiencing one of your typical married couples. We both worked for a long time and did not have enough time together. We experienced some developmental problems with our son, and the tension in the house was a bit high. I noticed that she spends more time texting with her "girlfriend" on her phone.

I didn't think much about it, although now I wish I had. I started to work more together to be unemployed when possible, to help at home, and to get along more emotionally, but within a few weeks, the gap widened. When I was charging the old iPad used by my son, I accidentally found some news.

Her FB messenger is still logged in, and there are a lot of highly suspicious messages from people in her hometown, which I call JimBobCooter or JBC for short. These messages are not completely inappropriate, but based on the time and context of the messages, I can see that there are many missing. I made a psychological record to pay close attention to this and started to try to solve the problem.

The next day, I took leave to complete some projects that I thought would make her happy, and left her some sweet notes to remind her how much I admire her. Nevertheless, she again "texted her girlfriend" in the corner of the living room. I took the boy’s iPad to the office and opened FB Messenger...Watching my wife tear me up in real time.

She and JBC are making fun of me. All the flaws, insecurities, and secrets I entrusted to my partner are now material for her and JBC. Not only that, although there is no direct allusion, there is a hint throughout the conversation, especially when she criticizes my performance in a sack. I managed to take some screenshots, but missed a lot of messages because she was deleting them as the conversation unfolded.

I am emotionally incapable of facing her. I stayed in the office until she fell asleep and drank a few glasses of wine. I took off the next day and spent some time reflecting on myself, drinking, and trying to figure out what to do. My wife came home and wanted to know what was wrong. I just hid and told her that I had a bad day. A few minutes later, I was looking at the iPad again. The wreckage of the train continued to unfold.

So started a few weeks of screenshots, drinking and being separated from the relationship. I know there is no turning back. These messages are now completely intimate with my wife, and JBC is sprinkled with "I love you". I consulted a lawyer and got my choice, and then started to move forward. This is where everything becomes absolutely surreal.

Looking at the news, I found that JBC came to town to spend a wonderful weekend with my wife in a beautiful hotel. I missed a lot of information because they must have talked on the phone at some point, but I was able to infer enough time and place. Damn it, my wife was furious with me the next day and wanted to spend a weekend with the girls in the spa to relax. When she comes back, we can really focus on our marriage.

I keep going. This is the greatest idea she has ever had, and I will do everything I can to get us back on track. I got in touch with the lawyer and asked him to draft a strong separation agreement stating that she would move out and visit her on weekends. There will be no child support during this period until the divorce is finalized. Then I spent the most painful two weeks of my life.

After all this, most of my feelings for her disappeared completely, I was just as angry as I had never been before. D day is here. I take a day off. I withdraw half of the money from any account we share and leave her alone. I have redirected my paycheck to a new bank. I closed our money market account, got half of her cashier's check, and deposited half of me into my new account.

I stopped in office max and printed about 75 pages of screenshots of FB Messenger. I wasted time because I didn't want to stay at home. She texted me that she was about to take off and she loved me. I told her to have fun. I showed up at the hotel about 8:30 and called my wife from the lobby. It goes directly to the voice mail box. In any case, they may have already started.

I walked to the front desk and asked if I could use the phone to connect to the JBC room. It rang three times, and he picked it up. JBC: Hello? Me: JBC, can you send my wife to the lobby? JBC: I don't know what you are talking about, brother. Me: All right. I think I have to call Mrs. JBC to get her down. (It's a complete bluff. I know he is married, I know her name, but nothing more.)

JBC: (Inaudible, shuffling, panicked) Me: You have five minutes. In less than two minutes, my wife walked out of the elevator, looking a little flustered. I asked her to sit down in the corner of the hall. Her: Started to spit out the garbage, saying that this is not what it looks like, etc. Me: I'm not here to argue. What this pile of documents says is what is happening. The only way I will not send this copy to our daughters, your parents, and email everyone we know is if you move out immediately.

Look, my wife is very proud. Our daughter is going through a rebellious teenage stage and she knows that her relationship may be ruined forever. My wife is also the golden boy of her parents, and she is always worried about what they think of her. I don't have much chips, and shame is the only card I can play. Her career is also built around her image, so I know she will protect this at all costs.

Her: Sniffing, muttering, can't hear me: This is a check to pay for half of the money market account. I have withdrawn half of my money from all other joint accounts. You should have enough money to get a place. She began to cry. I can almost see her different thoughts and mood swings, but now is the time to continue to put pressure on her.

Me: This is a separation agreement, and I think it is very fair considering what is happening. I need you to check it, sign it, and leave it at home when you get it. Do you want to view these screenshots? She: No. Me: Okay. Go and play with JBC. Don't go back to the house, or I will send this (holding a lot of screenshots) to everyone.

I jumped out of the hall and I could hear her starting to collapse. I got in the car and drove to the parking lot, my anger exploded. I used to cry, yell, etc. in front of her, but I managed to put my things together enough to pull it off. I don't know what she did that night or weekend. She texted and called over and over again, wanting to talk.

I just turned off the phone, and by Monday afternoon, a porter was already taking her things, and she delivered the agreement. I asked her to talk to the children, basically saying that mom and dad need to be apart for a while, we still love you, etc. Standard divorce conversation. A week later, she wanted to have a real conversation for the first time.

I promised her because I have put my things together, I know what I want, but I should listen to her. She is very sorry. She wants another chance. She wants her family back. She can do everything. She knelt on my lap and wept. I never intended to bring her back. I told her that she needs to set up her own marriage counseling agency at a time that suits me.

I told her that I could not live with her, but she should be by the children's side and try to maintain a relationship with them. So started our new normal. She came to the house three nights a week to cook, have dinner with the children (she always left a plate for me, and I made myself scarce), she cleaned the house and washed the children The clothes then go back to her place.

We went to consult. This includes her working with the therapist to solve her problems, trying to figure out why she did it, she begging for forgiveness, and I stoically play the victim. I will never give her a chance again. What I want to do is waste time, make myself the primary caregiver of the children, and let her have no right to reside in the house.

A few months later, I went to my therapist and was diagnosed with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. I asked my job whether it is possible to deal with personal issues part-time in the foreseeable future, which is not a big deal. After six months of treatment, I told her that I cannot forgive her now, and I want a friendly divorce, but she is still the love of my life, maybe one day we can try again.

She was very sad, but if I promised to try again one day, she would agree to a divorce. Once a divorce is filed, I need my children to be willing to be with me. I left a Google search on "how to survive your wife's infidelity" on the shared computer at home, and I left some printed infidelity articles in the kitchen. My daughter found them and ran to me crying.

I told her she shouldn't find those. Mom made a mistake. Mom still loves her and I will always be by her side. The daughter who used to treat my wife so much, now she doesn't talk to her or scream, and she can't breathe. Unsurprisingly, a few months later, when the court needed the children's statements, the younger brother followed in the footsteps of the older sister. They all wanted to live with their father in the house where they grew up.

When the divorce was finalized, I got the house (had to buy out some of her equity, but it didn't matter). I got the primary custody of the child. Due to the income difference caused by my part-time job, I received generous child support. Now for the past two years, my children and I live in a house, work part-time, and let now-ex subsidize me. When she takes the kids on weekends, I have my fun. There is a little tinder and I cultivated Some FWB.

In the eyes of my children, I am the patron saint of my father, because I walked up the highway and have been there. In the eyes of my predecessor, I was the one she was always eager to leave. I got a benefit, that is, let her come and seek intimacy when I want to, and dangle the carrot that may compound. But this will never happen.

I started working when I was 15 years old, and when I was 17 I had enough money to buy my first car. I was still young, and when my egg donor (my biological mother, she should not have different titles) and stepfather said they were named after them, for insurance and registration purposes, I did not question. Six months later, they are about to divorce.

When the divorce was finalized, my egg donor told me that the car I paid for will be given to my former stepfather at the time of the divorce because it appears to be a common property between them. I am very angry. The exterior of this car looks good, but it burns a quart of oil every two days and drives badly, but it is still my car.

So a week before my ex-stepfather was about to pick it up, I stopped putting oil in it. I drove extra in the town that week, and I was the smoke cloud of the burning oil town. Then I ended my revenge. Look, my friend died a goldfish. This is a fairly large fish, 3-4 inches long. I ask for it. Please note that in July, on the morning of picking up the car, I cut the yellow foam under the passenger seat.

The foam is sticky, abrasive, and easy to reseal due to its stickiness. I cut the foam, stuffed the fish carcass into the mat, pushed it away as much as possible, and then the foam stuck together nicely. My ex-stepfather showed up with his girlfriend (the girlfriend was a mistress, which led to the divorce), and he gave her my car as a gift. I just smile.

I wish I knew how well this car drove in the hot July weather in a few hours, but I can imagine it.

Story Credit: Reddit / Darth__Raider_Vader

My grandmother's entire adult life was a member of a large conservative "Bible-belief" church. This church, which I will call BigWhite Church, is a member of a large evangelical denomination. BigWhiteChurch is located in the prosperous suburb of a large city in the Southern United States Bible Belt. Grandma is very active in BigWhite Church.

She works in the nursery every Sunday morning, helps cook hundreds of church fellowship breakfasts and dinners, accompanies her children and grandsons to participate in dozens of church retreats and choir trips, teaches bible studies for teenagers on Sunday nights, and is very Actively support family missions, as well as help other youth projects.

She is always one-tenth, and often pays extra for tasks and special dedication. Grandma's greatest talent is to make others feel that she is important. I have seen it with my own eyes many times. Although I belong to different churches, I often visit with my grandmother. When I go, I usually go to BigWhite Church activities with her. I have seen her make breakfast for dozens of BigWhite Church Youth alone. Even in the large kitchen of the church, this task took more than two hours.

Then, after the meal, she asked the whole class to applaud the high school student leader: "It’s a good job to organize a prayer breakfast." I remember, at a BigWhite Church youth retreat in a rural church camp, she drove back most of the time Cheng, retrieved a large box of gospel materials. One of the assistant pastors (I will call it JerkPastor) had forgotten and asked her to catch up with our program the next morning.

His boss, the senior pastor (I will call him PompousPastor), never found that JerkPastor messed up, or his grandma fixed it for him. JerkPastor never even thanked grandma. Although I was still a child, it bothered me a lot, so I asked her. Her answer broke my heart. She said she didn't mind at all; she told me her reward was that these materials "will help the children find Jesus."

Grandma suddenly ended her church service at the age of 73, when she broke her back in a car accident. Thereafter, in the last 10 years of her life, she was unable to go to church due to this injury and the decline in health due to old age. Her mind is still as sharp as ever, her faith is still sincere, but her body is getting tired day by day.

In the past 10 years, she has extended a helping hand to her church, church leaders and church friends many times, inviting them to visit her at her home, but without success. Each of these invitations was rejected or simply ignored. Towards the end, when she was hospice at home, she decided to plan her funeral. She and my grandfather called her church and asked Pompous Pastor, the senior pastor she had known for more than 30 years, to visit her so that they could plan the memorial service she and grandfather hope to hold in the church.

PompousPastor was too busy, but JerkPastor came a few days later. According to my grandpa, this was what happened at that meeting, and my grandma was actually dying: grandma, grandpa and JerkPastor discussed the funeral for a few minutes. Then JerkPastor began to press her to "put your treasure in heaven" and "remember your church in your will."

Grandpa told him firmly: "This is neither the time to discuss her will, nor the place to discuss her will." They went back to discuss the funeral for a few minutes. Then, Jerk Pastor brought the topic back to the grandmother's wishes, freely expressing how much "her" church needs "her support". Grandpa told him many times that it was inappropriate to talk to grandma about her will or the financial needs of the church, because she was terminally ill and was in extreme physical pain.

JerkPastor will agree and talk briefly about the funeral, and then will return to talking about the financial needs of the church, the heavenly rewards, "Where is your treasure, where is your heart" (Matthew 6:21, Luke) 12:34) Wait. My grandma started crying. Putting this in context, grandma is more than just a "steel magnolia". She is "diamond-coated titanium wrapped in Kevlar fiber".

She seldom cried, and she never cried for herself. When the doctor told her that her back was so badly fractured that she could no longer walk, there was not a single tear, and it was of no avail for the next six months. At funerals and when visiting family members in the hospital, when they receive bad news, she shed sincere but well-managed tears.

She would cry and comfort others, "Cry with the crying person." But no one—not grandpa, not her daughter (my mother), nor any of my uncles or grandma’s siblings — ever remembered her as Cry yourself. Grandma sobbed involuntarily. Grandpa, a retired steel worker, a former Marine Corps sergeant and a Korean combat veteran, physically grabbed JerkPastor and "escorted" him out of their house, not too gentle.

To everyone's expectation, grandma lived for another six months, mainly because of sheer willpower. However, in the end grandma passed away, and we held her memorial service in the funeral home instead of BigWhite Church. PompousPastor and JerkPastor were clearly absent. In fact, there are no “professional Christians” from BigWhite Church in the service, not even among the audience.

At the beginning of the ceremony, Grandpa stood on the podium in front of the crowd and said: “Some of you may have heard that I canceled the invitation of PompousPastor and JerkPastor for this funeral. This service is not suitable for me to provide you with a reason for doing this. , Although you all know me, so you know my reasons are good. Besides, my wife asked me to exclude them."

"This funeral may be different from other funerals you have attended. This will be an "open microphone" funeral. If you have anything to say, please come here, talk about your friendship with my wife, and talk about something worth remembering. The living story about her, or anything you want to say to commemorate her, will bring comfort to everyone here today. I have asked a few family members to prepare a statement, but you don’t have to prepare anything. Please, if Come here if you want to say something."

There were about a hundred people at the funeral; at least one-third of them ended up in front of the microphone. Our planned service lasting about 30 minutes lasted more than two hours, and as far as I know, no one left early. Laughing, crying, and hugging, her three grandsons played some of her favorite songs on the piano and guitar, and we all sang her favorite hymns hand in hand.

Later, dozens of people told my grandpa that this was one of the most gratifying and exciting funerals they had ever attended. Many people commented, "In any case, a funeral without a preacher would be better" or something similar. But the problem is, my grandmother also took huge revenge outside the grave. In a few weeks, it was time to start distributing the estate in accordance with the grandmother's will.

Although grandma and grandpa love each other deeply, they have different wills because she told my mother, "It makes it easier for us to respect each other's territory" and because their lawyer recommended it. No one thinks my grandparents are very rich. For more than 50 years, they have lived in the same small and charming house in a prosperous and well-maintained suburban community, working hard and living a simple life.

But there are rumors that they have a very good nest egg. Of course, no one is required to participate in "reading will" or even "reading." Modern telecommunications and almost universal culture have made this weird custom almost extinct. But "reading a will" is a tradition in our family, because it is one of the events that gives our close family an excuse to get together.

We have never had a "family reunion". It is too difficult for them to arrange time for our extended family. But we get together on birthdays, holidays, funerals, baptisms, etc., so if you attend a few of them, you will see almost every cousin, aunt, uncle, even grandmother and uncle’s aunts and uncles. Grandpa's siblings and in-laws.

Considering this family tradition, many of our family members’ wills often contain very personal bequests. These items have little cash value, but they are a way for deceased family members to tell their loved ones that they want to share precious memories with them. Last time. As an extra motivation to participate, with the encouragement of grandpa, the family rumor factory has been speculating that grandma's will contains some "surprise". Oh, there are so many surprises.

The "Reading Club" was held in the conference room of the law firm. Participants included my mother, as well as aunts, uncles, aunt Zeng, uncle Zeng and many grandchildren. However, we were all surprised to see PompousPastor and JerkPastor from BigWhiteChurch. They told us that the grandmother's lawyer told them that the grandmother's will is not only a bequest to BigWhite Church, but also a personal bequest to them.

Maybe this is just our imagination, but my brothers, sisters, cousins, and I can’t help but notice that these missionaries seem to salivate over grandmother’s generosity. The grandmother's family is a big family, and quite a few beneficiaries are designated in the will. The lawyer’s meeting room is smaller than the average middle-class living room.

Extra chairs were moved in, every seat was full, and every remaining space was filled with people. There is almost no space for all of us. Grandma's lawyer suggested that PompousPastor and JerkPastor sit on the chairs in the front of the room, next to him. Since there is a large table in the room, this means that the lawyer and the two missionaries are the only ones facing the other people directly.

Although the missionaries were happy to be physically close to the center of attention, they did not notice. As the rest of us quickly noticed, these seats made it easy for others in the room to observe them up close, which is almost impossible Asking them to leave the overcrowded room before the end of the entire meeting, because they are the furthest away from the single door of the room, and standing or sitting between them is the only way for them to escape.

The bequest is quite generous, but almost in line with our expectations. Grandpa kept their house, its contents, their retirement accounts, and everything that was left after all the inheritance was satisfied. Children, grandchildren and several local charities received good but not extravagant money. Some sentimental objects were named and given to different friends and relatives.

Grandpa is the first beneficiary listed in the will. However, after him, all other inheritances are arranged in order of appreciation. They start with sentimental items, which have very low cash value. Then each grandson received a few thousand dollars, and then each son, daughter, brother, sister, niece, and nephew received a little more, and then several local non-profit organizations received a very substantial amount, and so on.

The bequests of BigWhite Church, PompousPastor and JerkPastor are (almost) the last bequests listed in the will. They listened to the other bequests politely, but as they noticed the exponential increase in grandmother's gifts, their expectations grew higher and higher. When Grandma’s lawyer got the part of BigWhite Church and the missionary’s will, he said: “It’s a bit unusual, but before I declare these estates to BigWhite Church, PompousPastor and JerkPastor, Ms. [grandma’s name] asked me to read the following statement to Everyone present."

He opened a letter written in grandma's handwriting. It shocked the silence in the room. "In the past 10 years, no one at BigWhite Church has called me to see me, or sent me a note telling me that they care about me. There is no pastor, no deacon, no church woman, There is no church member who has worked with me for so many years, none of whom I love deeply, nor are they considered to be my friends. When you need me, I have worked hard for you for many, many years. But when I need When you and your church, you all pretend that I don’t exist."

“I’ve only been there once. When I was about to die, I invited PompousPastor to come to my house to help me plan my funeral. This was the last time I tried to contact my church and pastor many times in the past 10 years, although They made it clear that they do not love me, but I still love them deeply. If I can hold a funeral in my church, maybe some church friends I have not seen in ten years will come to the party for the last time.

And I know they like to listen to PompousPastor preaching, so if he preached at my funeral, maybe they would come to my funeral to listen to him, even if they wouldn’t come to see me. But PompousPastor didn't have time to see me, and he didn't even call me to tell me if he was willing to preach at my funeral. JerkPastor came to my house, but he didn't want to talk about my funeral. He just wanted me, "Remember his church in my will."

that's all. It's just, "Remember his church in my will." At that moment, I realized that I had broken my heart for the last time in my church. But that was the last time. the last time. JerkPastor did not know when he visited, but long before he came, my grandfather and I had prepared my will, which did include double tithes. Twenty percent of my entire estate is now used for my previous...before...church...BigWhiteChurch.

This amount is [named as the amount-a large sum of money, which caused many of her heirs, including me, to make a low "wow" sound]. But I feel bad because we personally don't remember good people like PompousPastor and JerkPastor. So I changed my will to include them. When I was there, I changed the amount I left to BigWhite Church to match all the love they showed me in the last 10 years of my life. When I was suffering and lonely, I was no longer able to work for them for free. As I have done for half a century. "

"These are all her written statements," the lawyer said. "Now let's go back to the bequest in the will." "Bequest to JerkPastor: one cent." "Bequest to self-respecting priest: one penny." "Bequest to BigWhite Church: one penny." PompousPastor and JerkPastor sat down There, it looked as if someone had just injected a gallon of Novocaine into their jaw.

Every family and friend of grandma has a strong urge to laugh out loud. But we remain silent because we know grandma. We know she is not finished yet. Grandma just prepared one punch and two punches for them. The best is yet to come, we don't want to miss it. "There is one last bequest," the lawyer continued, "for a charity named..." he named it "BlackCharity", then he paused, and then said the amount.

Most of us don't know what BlackCharity is. However, from the expressions on their faces, we can see that PompousPastor and JerkPastor know BlackCharity very well. The expressions of shock, fear and horror on their faces corresponded to Ruo If the lawyer said: "This inheritance is handed over to the demon baby eaters to buy oversized barbecue grills and tons of charcoal."

Every eye in the room is now staring at PompousPastor and JerkPastor. The lawyer, who happened to be one of the sons of my uncle, grandmother and grandfather, let the silence continue for a few more seconds... If we can read the thoughts of PompousPastor and JerkPastor, we will know the history behind their looks. Face.

BlackCharity is sponsored by a large black church just a few miles from BigWhite Church. They operate a free food/clothing bank, provide assistance programs for foster children, provide pre-cooked meals for the elderly at home, and other social services. Long ago, BigWhite Church, which was (and still is) 100% white, has provided BlackCharity with financial and other support for several years.

Then there was a very painful and fierce breakup, allegedly because BlackCharity was practicing the "social gospel" and BigWhiteChurch was preaching the "real gospel." BigWhiteChurch even sued to try to recover some of their money. Although the lawsuit was finally settled, very little money actually changed hands. But this is The Deep South. Everyone knows the real reason why BigWhite Church or any white church stopped supporting black charities:

"They become arrogant, instead of staying where they are." Grandma and Grandpa seriously considered leaving BigWhite Church at the time. But they think it is better to stay there and teach tolerance through their words and example. They know they will never be able to convince everyone, but maybe they can reach some young people in their white church and break the cycle of generations.

Grandma once told us, "My church is my mission field." We didn't know the true depth of her statement until after her death. Since then, grandma and grandpa will secretly send part of their "tithe" to the Black Charity every month. Most of my grandma’s family members, including me, didn’t know about it until after the meeting.

But PompousPastor and JerkPastor clearly understood what grandma said to them with actions more powerful than words. If you are a white man who grew up deep in the South, like grandmother, grandfather, PompousPastor and JerkPastor, you will understand. For many southern whites, this is one of the most personal insults you can do to them.

It also labelled them racists, condemned them, and said: "These black people who you hate, disrespect and abuse are better than you. So they are more worthy of my money than you." Let everyone have time to observe PompousPastor and JerkPastor, and think about how their white church treats this black charity, and how they and their church treat our grandmother...

The lawyer said: "The amount is..." Then he said the exact same amount written by his grandmother in her handwritten letter. If she did not change the will, the huge sum would have flowed to BigWhite Church.

Story Credit: Reddit / BamaFan4Jesus

This is probably the most trivial thing I have ever done. So in my city, there is a bar attached to a donut shop that serves the best donuts in the city, and there is always a long line. Because it is attached to a bar, it does not close until 9pm because of the influx of business. In any case, my girlfriend and I were very eager for a snack one night, so we decided to head to the donut shop and arrive by car around 8:30 in the evening.

Now, there are only three parallel parking spaces on the street slightly further away, and they are all 15-minute parking spaces, which are usually full. We saw on the street, count our lucky stars, there is one place that is free! My girlfriend drove the car a little in front of the car in front of the scene, turned on her indicator light, and then began to back up to the parking space... When the white little hornet driving behind us rushed into the scene.

I rolled down the window and shouted to the driver: "I'm sorry, we just reversed." The driver looked like a beautiful college student, shrugged and shouted to me: "I'm sorry, first come first served!" And she and her friend Then he laughed. My girlfriend suggested that we buy doughnuts again. I told her that she can send me here. I will buy doughnuts because I know what she likes and she can walk around.

She agreed, and I jumped out of the car, passed the little white Vespa where the girls were still packing, and headed to the shop. As usual, the production line of doughnuts is very long, because this is the last batch, doughnuts are the slim option. Don't you know, those same girls are now behind me, looking at the remaining five different flavors.

They are talking about which ones are the best and which ones they don’t have yet. I heard one of them jokingly mentioned, "Thank God, we have a parking space," and they laughed. Here, I got sweet revenge. I walked to the front of the line, and when they asked for my order, I ordered two dozen donuts, the last one.

The girls behind me didn't listen to what I ordered, but as they slowly saw each doughnut in the box, their choices became fewer and fewer, and confused eyebrows began to appear on their faces. One of them (the driver) desperately asked the baker who loaded them, "What, you don't even plan to save us some?" My answer was perfect.

I turned around and said, "I'm sorry, first come first served." To be honest, she looked like she had solved the mystery of the movie and pulled her pants at the same time. It is difficult to express in words, but it is indeed an expression I will never forget. The best doughnuts I have ever eaten, and other people in my office like to eat them the next morning.

At the end of the 90s, my wife and I had just gotten married and just started. We decided to DINK ("dual income, no children") for a few years to save money for the down payment of a house. The Internet bubble is still on the rise, and I am a new software developer. I had an entry-level job for a while, and then I was recruited to a new city and a new job, and the salary was three times the previous one.

This is a proposal that is too good to give up. I calculated an account, and the result was simple: through a frugal life, saving all my wages, and living on her income alone, we can easily have enough money to pay for 20% of the new house within a year down payment. We rented an apartment in the new city with a listing price of US$950/month. The landlord is a real estate agent who owns a two-bedroom apartment as an investment property.

Let us call him "Hank Wozowski". Hank is a thin, gray, serious man. He is likable enough, but perfunctory, boring, and has no sense of humor. He explained that he is not responsible for maintaining the garbage disposal device under any circumstances, and it is not included in the lease agreement. If it breaks, he will not be responsible for repairing it. okay.

He seemed to be a little funny to our clueless young newlyweds, but I could tell that he wanted to rent to us because we were obviously a safe choice as renters. We filled out the lease agreement and credit check, and this is where my troubles started. Hank carefully reviewed the credit application, and I listed my position as "software developer" and an income of $75,000.

For the 23-year-old in the second year of college graduation in the late 1990s, this was a fortune. Coupled with my wife's salary, our income is more than six figures and we rented an apartment far below our income. Like I said, DINK is the way to go in the beginning. "I can't believe how much money you made," Hank must have said six times, muttering softly.

I explained that we are saving money to buy a house, and we will only stay in the apartment for one year. "We may stay for a few months after the semester ends. Will it be okay every month after a year?" Hank assured us that it would be fine. We only met Hank once in a year, and he mentioned my salary again and how he couldn't believe it was what a software developer did.

This is embarrassing, and I gave a vague answer. In any case, a year later we found the house we wanted to buy, signed all the documents, and are making a moving plan. The new house will not be ready until two months after our lease expires, so I called Hank and asked if we could extend the lease for two months before moving out, as discussed.

Hank assured me on the phone that there would be no problems, and he would send an extension for us to sign. The extension arrives in the mail. When I read it, my heart stopped. It includes a monthly payment clause and a $500 rent increase. I turned over and called him. "Hank, why did you increase the rent by more than 50%? This is too much! This is more than my new mortgage!"

He was very condescending to me, "This is what the apartment looks like now. If I rent it out at a lower price, I will lose money." I tried to reason with him, but it was obvious that he knew we could afford $500 in this case. There is no choice, he will do his best to screw us up. He was angry with me for my opinion, and I will never forget his parting words: "You don't have to like it, you just have to pay the price."

My wife and I tried to figure out a way to move out early by storing our furniture for a few months and crashing a car with a friend, but it just didn't work. I held back my pride and wrote a check for an extra month of $1,450. A month later, I wrote a similar check, and then we moved away. I made sure that the apartment was spotless before moving, but Hank still withheld $300 from our deposit because he did something stupid and it was just a way for him to squeeze a few dollars from the kid who made too much money .

The cleaning fee is $100, are you sure? But 300 dollars is obscene. In my opinion, he screwed me up with a price of $1,200, and I can't do anything about it. What's even more annoying is that after I moved out, I saw Hank's advertisement in the newspaper. The apartment rent he listed was only $150 higher than the initial payment, not an exaggerated $500.

And it is not rented. A month later, I saw the same advertisement. He lowered the price to $75 higher than the price we paid. I think it was rented since the advertisement stopped appearing. Fast forward about five years. Life is very good, the house is very good, we have children, even if the Internet bubble burst, I still have a job. One day, I suddenly heard one of my colleague Phil, a senior developer, talking with people working on the front desk.

"Hey, Mike, I'm looking forward to someone submitting some paperwork for me. If Hank Wozowski finds me, tell him I will go out immediately." I froze and tasted bile in my mouth. I remember how I wrote that name on these checks many years ago. It can't be the same person, right? I walked to Phil, who was still at the reception.

"Phil," I said, "how did you know this name, Hank Wozowski?" Phil explained that Hank was his real estate agent. "I bought my apartment through him a few years ago. I want to sell my apartment now, so I can buy a house. So I will ask him to be my agent again. Do you know him?" I told Phil. I once rented an apartment from Hank and described his appearance.

Phil confirmed the description: It's the same person, wow, small world, right? Just then, the front door of the office opened and Hank Wozowski walked in. I stared in disbelief. He is holding a stack of documents and doesn't recognize me. Phil and Hank shook hands, and they chatted for a while. I stood there quietly, not knowing what to do.

Phil finally said, "Hank, this is my friend. I think you might have met each other?" "Yes, hello Hank. Nice to see you again. A few years ago, my wife and I were Your tenants. Remember the software developers who rented for a year and saved money to buy a house? Well, this is where I work. Here. With Phil." Hanks’ eyes showed that he remembered me now, and he started to Put it all together.

We shook hands, he said yes, of course he remembered and asked how we were doing. "Oh, we are fine, thank you for your inquiry. Phil said you are his real estate agent. Isn't it small world?" Hanks nodded happily. He still can't remember the details of our last conversation. I do some quick mathematical operations in my head. This was the early/mid 2000s. The real estate market was very strong and any agent could easily make money.

The 2008 crash is still a few years away. I started thinking aloud. "Selling an apartment for approximately US$1.5-200,000, and you are looking for a house in the US$500,000 range, so the total transaction value is US$6.5-700,000. An agent receives 3% of the proceeds from the sale, and This purchase resulted in approximately $20,000 due to his troubles. This is a good commission for the broker, isn't it?"

Hanks' eyes flashed, and I could see that he remembered everything about me now. Phil was surprised by my passive attacking tone. I enjoy the uncomfortable silence. Hank avoided my question, said it was complicated, and told Phil to return the document as soon as possible. He shook hands with Phil, looked at me, nodded, and left. "It's nice to see you again, Hank." I yelled behind him.

He walked out of the building. The door was not closed yet, and I said in a loud voice so that Hank could hear, "Phil, don't sign anything yet, I have a story to tell you." Phil looked at me and said, "What the hell is this? What's the matter?!" He was angry and confused at my behavior. I told Phil the whole story, the rent, the added 500 dollars, the security deposit, "you don't have to like it, you just have to pay for it", everything.

"Phil, you can't use this person to sell your apartment to buy a house. I hate him. He is evil. I will help you find another real estate agent, use Anyone But Hank!" So the great thing about Phil It is that he is a great person. He said he was a little surprised by my story and always thought Hank was a straightforward person. "But I totally saw him doing this to you," he admitted.

"I can't use him now. What a bastard!" Then Phil's eyes lit up a little. "When I fired him, what do you want me to say?" (I have a special feeling for Phil now.) We came up with a plan, and I made sure that Phil had some key phrases in his repertoire. We planned it together in advance. My only regret is that I didn’t see Hank’s reaction in person a day later, when Phil made the following call and I stood behind him listening:

"Hi, Hank? It's Phil. Yes, about that. I decided to get some other offers from other agents. I won't sign with you... [Pause] "No, no, you shouldn't Discount. If you do this, you will lose money. .. [Pause] "No, this is just a decision I made... No, it has nothing to do with others... [Pause]

"Well, you don't have to like it, Hank. You just have to accept it. Goodbye." CLICK This is the biggest revenge I can imagine: through an occasional meeting a few years later, Hank was tricked away with an easy commission. 20,000 U.S. dollars. The best part is that Hank absolutely knows it has something to do with me!

I used to live on the third floor of an apartment, and the laundry room was in the basement. This means to me four stairs, no elevator, and I have a newborn, so I have to wash a lot of things. So we have a small room in the laundry room for soap and the like. I lived there for a year and never had the problem of leaving soap there.

Apparently, some newcomers moved in to use my soap. When I realized this, I left a note asking them to stop. No. They have been using. OK. Now I am very angry. So I bought two bottles of soap. One is blue and the other is transparent. I clearly marked them as mine on the bottle (so they would not accidentally say that they thought they were theirs) and filled the blue soap with blue Rit dye.

Then I filled the clear soap with unscented bleach. Then waited...not long. The next morning, I heard screams from the laundry room. I heard it on the fourth floor. I waited for a while and ventured downstairs. In the laundry room, I found a pile of wet clothes stained with bleach in the trash. Four days later, I saw a young man wearing a blue T-shirt in the car.

Well, guys, I want you to be happy for my destruction. The special flavor of this revenge comes from the fact that all collapses are the result of the domino effect, which will bring devastating consequences. Dedication: This story is for those who have been messed up by team projects, I certainly hope you like it.

My background story: I have been teaching for many years, but it is important to understand that in my first year of teaching, I was mocked by a group of elite parents and their children. A week has passed and no one is asking for my work, trying to weaken me, or just calling me rubbish. I quit almost halfway through the first semester, and the verbal and emotional abuse was so bad.

This is a school in a difficult area, so I was accused of doing terrible things, just because I asked the children to stop talking, gave me failing marks because of missing classes, and even enforced the rules in the student/parent handbook to let me in Hot water. My principal reprimanded me for the negative influence on the school and was told that I needed to let go of more rules because he was tired of listening to my parents.

I will let my parents appear in my courses without prior notice, and then tell me that I am a bad educator, a bad person, etc. I have many horror stories from that school, but what I want to say is that this experience defines me as the kind of teacher in the next school. I need to be the unshakable person because I need to focus on an important job: teaching children.

My next school is in a fairly affluent area. I often find that the parents of my students make millions of dollars, which presents a unique set of problems. However, my new principal is very supportive of me, as long as I follow the school’s manual verbatim, because doing so conforms to the school’s philosophy and is protected by law-we seriously have parents filed indiscreet lawsuits. time.

This school learned a long time ago that asking parents to splatter blood in the water and cause the rest of the sharks to flock in groups. My first year in this new school was very successful for many reasons, but mainly because the school culture is easy to adapt. By planning ahead, I was able to stop 99% of all negative parents when I passed.

There have been a few times when parents tried to attack me at meetings, and I would fight back so severely that I established a reputation among my children and parents as a person you can't annoy me. Everything I did was in compliance with the regulations. Any attempt to knock me down was rejected by my principal. He had to say, "He is abiding by the school policy, so I am afraid that the final decision lies with him."

Not kidding, I have some parents who are crying because their children can no longer get A in my class. I am not a teacher who wants to destroy children, I just want to hold them accountable, and sometimes it means letting them fail. Needless to say, this job has become very interesting, because I don't have to wait for my parents to ambush, I can work hard to make my courses interesting for my students and at the same time teach them something.

I have set hard rules for the classroom, there is almost no argument, and I will make adjustments in the second year, making it harder for students or parents to ruin my day. I have many stories like this, but this is one of my favorite stories. The year this happened, I taught a high school class from grades 9 to 12 (14 to 18 years old for overseas guests).

My course is not required for graduation, but it does count as a core requirement. One of my rules at the beginning of the year was "I never want to hear,'When do we need this?'" because you don't have to sign up for this course. "My class structure is that I try to hold students accountable for their actions. My class is set up so that everyone can gain something.

If you try your best, you will definitely get C. If you really work hard, you can get B or A. I will do my best to help students make any reasonable requests. The best example is a student who is trying to complete an assignment. He said: "I think I understand now, but I can't hand it in on time." I replied: "Then hand it in tomorrow to get full credits. This is hard work. Return."

Except for a few difficult deadlines in my class, I will see you study these materials at all costs. Making trouble in my class? I have found some ways to get around the sad excuses you made to your parents for your poor performance. It sounds cold, but I am the teacher who will leave 90 minutes after school to help you catch up, help you arrange projects for another class, and even hear you cry over your parents' divorce.

But if I find that you are hanging out in class instead of doing your work (my rule is that at least 70% of class time is spent on homework, quizzes, etc.) I will warn you a few times, email your parents, and Wait to see if they care. If they don't, I will let you continue digging the hole until you are deep in the water and begging for a ladder.

Then I will throw you a rope. If you work hard enough, you can still climb on it, but many children will cry until the hole collapses and bury them. I also use the school’s online grading/homework system to handle almost all homework, which means I can record when students view homework, how long it takes, etc.

All of this allows me to see what my students are doing, when they are doing it, and whether they are plagiarizing. This is one of the tools that helped me make important decisions about leniency, and it also allowed me to say at the meeting, "Of course the exam is difficult. Your child didn't try the nine homework exams until 11pm the previous night."

It can prove that a student did not try to make it impossible for me to accuse me unfairly. It also means that the worst kid avoided my class. bonus. However, this year, something magical happened. Every other year, I meet a wave of children who just want to mess up and blame others for not doing well.

By the end of the year, the students will scold me, and the next year my class size will decrease, and then I will be highly praised by those children, so everyone will sign up, etc. But this year, not only did I get a big wave of fingertips, but they also came with parents who like to make trouble. I have heard the stories of some of these parents.

Other teachers just want to hear our interactive stories, because these parents are very qualified. When they don’t go well, they will appoint a lawyer to try to persuade the teacher to give their children extra credit, and to a large extent deny any wrongdoing by their children. These parents would be called because their students were caught cheating, and then accused the teacher of making the course too difficult, thus confirming that their students needed to cheat.

So about these knuckles. This is a group of about seven senior boys, they all changed their schedules to be at the same time as each other. The other teachers couldn't believe that I had all these at the same time, but I just shrugged. Every week, the staff lounge is eager to know how I deal with their pranks, but in most cases, I close most of their things from the first day.

In fact, I get along very well with them, despite their constant laziness, because they have mastered the ability to appear busy and not distract my other children. Then came the first group project. The size of my class is just right for seven groups of four. The idiot collectively pulled a child who was absent on the first day of the project and formed two groups with four people in each group.

For several reasons, these two teams worked very hard to crash and burn down on this project, but the biggest reason is that a) they messed up during class time b) they will postpone the two-week homework to the previous weekend, and then All the work is left to everyone. Otherwise, this leads everyone to make the least effort. I gave poor results and was immediately pulled into a parent meeting with several of them (one at a time, obviously).

Every meeting is the same. "My child did all the work, so he shouldn’t get a bad grade" or "My child doesn’t understand the homework", I put my super specific headings (this is a list of how I grade things-I never Don’t want to be accused of scoring because you don’t like children). These exchanges are mainly like this:

Patent: My child did all the work, and I think it is unfair that this will affect his grades. Me: This is the homework turned in by your student. *Hand over* This is the grading rules that I printed and emailed to your students on the day the project started. *Hand over* As you can see, I have listed the grades item by item for easy use. I would be happy to check your student's grades.

Parent: *Read through all the evidence and look at the child* Where is the missing part? Student: Uh, my team members are responsible for this. Me: I can't rate things I have never received, so I can't reasonably improve your child's grades. sorry. Now, it is good news for all my students. I make the entire semester's homework more valuable, because I think children who mess up early can make up for it by working hard.

I have been sowing extra credits throughout the semester, and all these parents are dissatisfied, but it is nice to hear that their qualified embryos can still get an A in my class. Now, the end result of these meetings is that this is obviously not my fault (remember, I have all this data to prove that I make every effort to contact everyone, etc.)... So it must be the other kids' fault.

So these parents have decided not to allow their perfect angels to work with their former group partners. Just like cancer, the failure of this kind of friend affects the whole class. Just like my genius, I ask my students to write a collective contract for each project, detailing who does what and when it will expire. Why is this important? Because the contract provides me with the necessary documents, allowing me to fire a bad team member and give them zero points, and their parents will not ruin my day. So here is where the problem starts to show up.

These elderly people began to bounce from one group to another like a cancer ping-pong ball, causing serious damage. I let the students choose their group, so these senior students desperately merge with anyone who has them. Due to the size of my class, each group has at least one spoiled child to deal with, and these children will eventually rotate until all my students are working with one of the seniors at some point.

Now I keep receiving complaints from the parents of other children about these boys. Their children want a good grade, which means that they finally finished all the work, but the senior year is lax. This usually happens after the fact, when I will say "I would like to pull that leech from your grade pool, but you have to use the contract."

The students don’t want to say anything because they are afraid of being retaliated by their seniors, but I can’t do anything because I will be accused of harassment. The contract can provide me with proof that these children do not have the influence needed to work, because these elderly people have been acting as their parents for years. I let my class use Google Docs because the changes are time stamped.

Not kidding, I once asked students to complete all their homework in the morning of the parent conference, trying to lie to make me look like garbage, but that time stamp is a godsend. Fortunately, my class is balanced. A bad teammate can make things difficult, but not irreversible. The parents are happy that I go out for their children, but are disappointed that their children don't use it.

Every time I announce that a group project is underway, some of the seniors will be so interested in other children that they are expected to arrange a place for them. I'm talking about buying lunch for the kids, bringing them gifts and so on. Seriously, on the day before the group project started, all the senior citizens are now sitting at different tables so they can pull the "I'm already here, let's be in a group" card (most of the time efficient).

The pressure of class morale is difficult, but I am waiting for the opportunity. Other students continue to seize additional credit opportunities so that their grades can withstand the blow, and the complaints of parents are completely reduced because I am still providing all the opportunities for success. My principal has a copy of my syllabus in his computer so that he can quote the student policy signed by the parent.

He often heard "I don't read that, so it doesn't apply", but he reminds them that the clause above the signature line says "My signature means that I have read this document in its entirety and agree to abide by all the rules" or something similar, which should be A lesson for parents and students, when you sign something, you should read the fine print.

So now I have seven lazy seniors, but I will name the worst of Larry, Curly and Moe. The consequences affected all of them, but the parents of these three people were tired of making trouble. Every time they threatened the teacher to comply, I imagined them sitting in a room and mocking how they got in touch with a humble teacher again.

I know that once grades start to decline, anything I do will be subject to strict scrutiny, and I need to be able to get rid of it because I have other things to do and I refuse to be the subject of smiles in their celebratory conversations. However, there is a special note about Larry-since he turned 18, his parents are now traveling non-stop and cannot be contacted. Larry is just a bastard now, because his parents no longer care about what he does.

I pay close attention to their performance in my class and other classes. This may sound sketchy, but I often do this to any of my students who are struggling with materials so that I can determine whether the problem is my class or all of their classes. As we all know, students use Inspect Element to fake their grades. I am tired of hearing "but their grades in other classes are As". Because then I look like a liar.

Anyway, after checking, I talked with other teachers. It’s not hard to find that these boys do very little work in other classes, and I find that Larry’s situation is worse. He has been thinking of ways to get other children to do this work for him, and then spread it among his friends. Other teachers have been threatened to lower the test percentage in their class, guess what? Both he and his friends participated in these courses.

Although they failed these tests, homework and project scores gave them a comfortable cushion, so most of them floated on low Bs. I can't prove this (they are using Snapchat), but when I raised this to their teachers, the teachers didn't want to try to prove it and argue with their parents. Now they are playing other courses with the least effort.

However, the only way for them in my class is to constantly rotate groups and learn from their hard work to maintain C and B, and the other children are too nervous to use the group contract to dismiss them. Remember how I mentioned that I continued to increase the value of my homework to allow the children to work and give them the opportunity to correct their grades? Well, it's about to expire.

Me: *Random day in class* Hello everyone, when I checked the schedule, I realized that your last project before the final exam may bring you unnecessary pressure. Would anyone mind if I throw it away? My class: *Tired of getting hit on group work* No, let it go, the best teacher ever! Me: Okay, you know, I will postpone our next project by a few weeks and extend the deadline by one week. Also, since I cancelled the previous project, this means that the next project will now account for about 20% of your final grade, so please do your best. Screwing it up may ruin your grades.

My class: whatever. So in one step, I exaggerated the task and moved it. I sent an email to parents and students to let them know about the changes in the syllabus and assignments. Apart from being happy that I was relieved of the pressure at the end of the semester, etc., no response was received. Actually I did this mainly because another teacher (he was a big bastard) completed a monster project in the same week, and I knew it would burn out my students before the final exam, so I wanted to take a break.

It's a win-win for me, really. Why should I move it now? Well, there is a problem. On the Friday before the project started, I announced during class, “Ok, I will introduce the project now, so that you can group today, and we can do the first thing on Monday morning without delay, because this project is very important. ." This announcement caused smiles all over the room. Why? This is a high-level ditch day.

Our school does not tolerate abandonment day, so the children try their best to keep secrets, but I found out a month in advance. All seven children are not in class, which means that I just let the whole room not be affected by these weights. Immediately, the group was formed, and better yet, I have a few children transferred out of my class, which means that, in terms of numbers, these idiots will have to work together (two groups) to complete the last group project together.

I emphasize that everyone needs to go to class as soon as possible so that they can start as soon as possible while attending. My original intention was to light a huge flame under these seven idiots, so that they would truly devote themselves to the efforts they had neglected all year long. Most of them are in the low C range (except for one in the low B range).

As a reward to all my students, I added extra credits to this project so that they can make up for the losses in the early semester, but if they put in their efforts, they can also make these seniors do well. This is not a revenge story, but an attempt to give them the last lesson in responsibility. Before the end of the day, I notified the parents/students that the project has started and any students who are absent need to contact their classmates to set up a group before Monday morning. I believe you can guess what happened next.

Next Monday, the seniors came a few seconds before the bell rang and found that there were only two tables to sit on. Anyway, they sit down. Me: *After attending* Okay, everyone has a grading rule, so let’s continue. Other classes: *Pull out the title immediately* Seniors: *Look around frantically*

The seniors soon realized that they had been tricked, and the quarrel began. The first thing that happened was that Larry, Curly, and Moe decided that they now belonged to the person they happened to be sitting with, and then moved the chairs to different tables. I immediately found out and told them that the group had reached its maximum size (4 people per group).

The other four seniors were already fighting because they knew that none of them would really do any work. Larry (he thought he was a gift from God to everyone) tried to sweetly persuade me and his team to obtain special privileges and allow a group of 5 people. Now, I see some other kids wavering, and I know Larry is putting pressure on them to argue about his situation.

I designed this project specifically for four people, each of whom has a job, but I provided a separate quote. "I will let you join, but since you have five people, I hope the work will double." Literally, I told them they must do this project twice. Larry tried to argue, but I pointed out the roles I had established and told him that if four people can do it once, it should be easier for five people to do it twice.

It sounds like a bastard to me, but I have now threatened other kids to say no and even let them vote. Unsurprisingly, Larry is the only person who voted that this is a good idea. When other kids hear my proposal, they will physically drive away other seniors who are trying to make this deal.

You will all be happy to hear that my predecessors spend the rest of the time arguing about who will work with whom. They finally formed three groups. I nodded to make sure they had titles, and then I wish them good luck. As a smart teacher, I emailed Curly's parents and Moe's mother, telling them they chose to work together.

Moe's mother always showed up to argue with me, but soon knew that I would not take her luggage. In a previous meeting, she even said to Moe: "I'm tired of all these struggles with your teacher, and I started to think you are the problem," but I suspect this is a show. Curly's parents emailed me back, saying they would make sure that Curly writes a collective contract.

You see, Curly sold himself as the best student ever. It is obvious that he will do a good job and fire his classmates. Moe's mother asked to meet me immediately. According to school policy, I don’t have to respond to emails within 48 hours. I waited for 47 hours, then sent an e-mail to a noncommittal e-mail, "I would love to meet, when will you be free?" and wait for a response. Then I waited another 48 hours to inform her of the time that would be useful to me next week.

Now, some other older parents emailed me angrily, asking me why they let their children choose to work with "bad kids" again. I had to tell them that I didn't expect them to be absent. Soon, some of my seniors were burned to death at home because they gave up. Their parents told me to "try to help them pass" and I agreed.

After all, some of them need this course to graduate. On the other hand, Moe's mother showed up to start a battle. She first asked me to put Moe in different groups. I refused, because this project has been in progress for a week now, which is not fair. She asked me to add him to another group. They are all full, and the students have completed most of the work.

She asked me to let him work alone and postpone it. I happily provided him with an extension and slid him a copy of the scoring rules... he turned white. At this point, he knew he never intended to do any work. In fact, I know that his group hasn't even started yet. I have a copy of their collective contract, which is scribbled in pencil, and there is no expiration date on it. He started arguing with his mother that he would rather work with his friends, and he was frustrated about getting into this situation.

With this in mind, she accused me of deliberately waiting until that day to screw up the seniors. After all, this is an event approved by the school and I am a jerk about it, she will take her story to the board of directors. Incorrect. The joy I get from all the preparations is to turn off such things. On the school day, all seven seniors were hanging out at her house and told her that the principal had given them a holiday.

Even better, they called and pretended to be their parents, so this was an excuse to be absent. He was immediately knocked down, and his mother flipped the switch and jumped on him. You see, she can continue to push me on this issue, but I now have evidence that he pretends to be his father, which is a suspended crime. I told her that I didn’t know that Friday was the upper grade ditch day. I let myself accept her grace, but I gave her a free homework extension for her child because I think the upper grades should have their own traditions, etc. . She buys it.

In addition, I can prove that I emailed him (and her) and gave them enough notice before Monday morning that they need to choose a group before something like this happens. Obviously, once I discovered Ditch Day, I tried to remind her of her precious wealth, but I don't know why he didn't accept it. So she asked him to open his email. Seeing this, I almost laughed out loud.

My e-mail was there, it was not opened, and I won the battle. She thanked me and took him home. Class morale is very high now, unless you are one of the seniors. A week before the expiration of the project, neither group actually started, and the HMS average class was about to hit the iceberg. Then the project expired, oh boy.

Not surprisingly, my enterprising predecessors easily completed some of the worst jobs ever. A group had a textual argument on the weekend before the deadline and had one of the children do all the work. Moe and Curly are in this group. The other group (together with Larry) also became a steaming pile. I make sure to rate these two items first, because I know the consequences will be huge.

All senior students have dropped at least one letter grade. A couple dropped two. This is four weeks before graduation. Larry seemed to deal with his F reduction calmly (they got a score of about 10%), so I knew he was planning something. Curly's parents asked to meet, and Moe's mother also asked to meet. Curly's parents were very frustrated with their poor grades and asked to know why.

What they didn't know was that I had already met the student who completed the whole project (very poorly) and his parents. I told Curly's parents that I saw text exchanges between senior students, and the result was almost "you damn it." Curly refused to hand over the phone to her parents for confirmation. I also showed them Curly's project and handed over the scoring rules.

Mom and Dad are not happy. You see, since the beginning, Curly has always blamed others for his mistakes, and his parents have completely accepted it. until today. Dad asked sharply, "Which part did you do?" This would cause Curly to shed real tears. Then I called up a spreadsheet containing the scores of all the group projects that year, and highlighted his scores, which were the worst.

The purpose of this is to use data to prove that their son, frankly, never did the job. Curly was absolutely ruined by this. His parents kicked him out of the meeting because they were tired of his excuses and asked me what they could do. I told them that I would be happy to provide one-on-one tutoring. If he finishes his homework and gets a B in the next exam, he can still pass the course. They agreed, we both shook hands, and then they left.

Curly's story is basically over here. He never participates in tutoring, I email his parents. After sending three emails, his father finally replied: "His mother and I have decided that he needs to learn to become an adult and let him handle it by himself. Thank you for your hard work." Curly will be the rest of the semester Do little or no work in time.

Due to home isolation, he is now only watching YouTube videos on his mobile phone during school. The ripple effect is brilliant. Because now Curly does this in all of his courses. I talked to his teachers and they all sent emails saying that he had stopped doing homework in class, but they got the same response as me instead of the fierce reaction they were used to.

When Curly failed his course, he still graduated, but his parents told him that they would no longer pay for his college and it was time to find a job. However, Moe's mother opened her lid and asked for an answer. Unfortunately, Moe and Curly belong to the same group, and she got the same answer from me. Strangely, once she did her best and tried to blame me for it in some way, she admitted that she knew that Moe was part of the predecessor who threatened loneliness and he should be ashamed of himself.

She played with me deliberately, but once she knew that I already knew everything, she came out. It's super annoying, but I also agreed to help him with one-on-one tutoring to make her happy. So Moe's mother now emails me every few days. "Is my son doing his job? Did he get help with homework, etc." Constantly, but she knew it was best not to fight with me. Then Larry.

Larry was unusually stubborn and stopped doing his job. I found out that Larry is said to be going to a university, where he only needs to keep his GPA at a very low number. He claimed that the F in my class would not change anything, so I made sure that he would not distract other people. Moe only shows up occasionally, but strangely, whenever Moe needs help, Larry will suddenly show up "just to say hello".

I can't understand why he did this, but I suspect that he is doing something and has made a backup plan. You see, Moe's mother is a lunatic, and when I counsel him, I make sure that there is always another person with me in the room. In any case, Moe's mother has been checking. I started to wait 48 hours between emails (because I could), and she started visiting him (me) in person.

She has been very cautious recently, and I have begun to doubt some things. Larry is really scared to death. Larry is Moe's friend, so the stories he has been making up for her in her house convince her that I have been emotionally abusing Moe when the other students are away. For example, I call his name after school and tell her, "You can even ask the school to check the camera to see if I am there."

This started the whole thing she is now asking the administrator to answer. but! I am very smart. The administrator asked me for details of my interaction with Moe, and I finally sat down with my principal, Moe and Moe's mother. She detailed that Moe is struggling and may not be able to graduate, and she thinks I have singled out her child and hope his grades will improve.

You see, Meng is dumb and lazy, and his mother is just as bad. When Larry went to her with his story, she never bothered to talk about it with her son. He just agreed and agreed, so I asked Moe to blankly describe what we said during the meeting, and then offered to leave the room so that he could tell the principal without me.

She asked me to stay because she wanted me to hear her son say what I did to him. None of them knew that I was a mentor. This means that I have a first-year teacher as my student. On the day I agreed to meet with Moe, after school, I asked her to wait for her grades in my room. She was still young, so Meng thought she was another student, never questioned it, or even remembered where she was.

My principal has received a statement from her detailing my interaction with Moe, but Moe was unable to provide any actual details and suddenly forgot what he had said to him. This left Moe's mother and the administrator in a dilemma, she blamed Larry for the whole thing, and was obviously upset that she had fallen into such a stupid trick. This led to an email reminding teachers not to be in a room alone with any student.

Suddenly, the help for the two disappeared after school, but hey, there are always people in my room, so anyway. After that meeting, Larry is now suddenly super concerned about his results. I explained that he wanted to make me unemployed and then use the consequences to get free passing scores. Obviously this won't work, so go to Larry.

I have children who really want to succeed. My free time is now the day I know he works, and he has never shown up for counseling. Now other teachers are reluctant to meet with him, nor can he reach an agreement to improve these results. Moe’s mother made the last effort and tried to persuade me that the senior parents had arranged to meet with my boss and let me be fired because of their children’s poor grades, and she was willing to say good things for me if I talk to She met.

When I received this email, I was sitting next to the principal. He didn't know what she was talking about. I told her that I was very happy to meet everyone, but I might have lunch at a meeting like this, and I hope people don’t mind the smell of fish. I got a "No, really, they threatened to sue you", but I got a perfect response. I pretended to be stupid and told her that I could not be sued for eating fish at the meeting.

She now realizes that I don't care about anything and cannot be threatened. Again, there is nothing she can do because I am just following the policy. The past few weeks have been crazy for these elderly people. They fell one by one because they had hardly done any work in years and they didn't know how to apply themselves. The other teachers were encouraged by how I tried to shut them down and finally held them accountable.

Some of them barely reached D in my class, and the rest failed. I heard the scream of "What can I do to improve my grades?" at the last second. But now it has been proven that they have not tried additional credit allocation, this is their opportunity. When you can prove that you are really trying to give their students extra credits, and then you can prove that they have never opened homework online, it is difficult for parents to be angry with you.

These guys have also failed in some other courses now. A couple broke down in my class and left crying. Their friendship is breaking down because they both hate each other now for what happened (they will overcome it in the summer). My last exam came, and I set it as an online multiple choice question.

It's easy to arrange questions and answers in random order, which means they can't cheat each other. You see, I knew a long time ago that they would sit together and try to cheat in exams, and Larry had already spent a lot of money asking a tutor to bring his friends. This disappointed them. When Moe's mother accused me of trying to trick her child with a harder test (again), it was easy to drive her away with a simple email.

Larry passed the exam, but his grades rose to a meager D negative. This is the final result. Of the seven seniors, one did not graduate and had to transfer. His parents were embarrassed because they paid for the whole family to fly out to attend the graduation ceremony that he did not attend. Two of the senior students lost all their scholarships and could no longer attend the school they wanted.

Their backup plan is to go to the same school together and become roommates, which they do with three other senior students including Moe. Larry's university is not satisfied with his final GPA. I'm not sure what his long-term game is, but it's terrible. The university kicked him out before he could start, and I found that his huge lie also extended to his parents.

He toured Europe all summer and tried to surprise his parents by going home instead of going to school. Apparently, they kicked him out immediately afterwards because they were selling their house to buy an apartment elsewhere (remember, they have been on a business trip now, so they want to downgrade). Last time I heard that he made up a story about joining the army but being released from prison due to illness.

Curly's parents relented, and finally decided to spend money to let Curly go to college. Curly was kicked out in the middle of the year (he was kicked out more than once for underage consumption), then they lived at home for a year and refused to find a job and kicked him to the side of the road. Finally I heard that he works in an e-cigarette store. Moe goes to school and uses his books to smartly try to pay for the work other kids do for him because his mother is very rich.

When he failed, he faked his grades to let his mother continue to pay the bill. In the end, the school drove him out and he moved back home. The story his mother told a friend of hers (who I met at school events) was that he decided that he would rather be an entrepreneur than go to college, and he bought a drone to photograph the wedding.

Last time I heard that he was the dealer of his weed dealer, but then he switched to sour. His mother thought he was having a wedding. But there is a happy ending. A senior went to college with his friends and immediately realized that he needed to change. He is no longer with his friends, and finally I heard that he graduated with honors in a lucrative field.

He sent me an email and thanked me for challenging him in high school because it prepared him for college, which was great.

Story Credit: Reddit / F1ghterJet24

I know this lovely German lady and I will call her Heidi. She married a man I call a bastard. For many reasons, this bastard is a bastard. He works in the IT department with my father. He said that he has a heroic complex. He will create disasters in his work, and then try to be a hero and "save the world". We even suspect that he caused a huge IT disaster at our national airport while working there.

He is indeed creepy. He sneaked up on my sister and called her at random, asking to pick her up. He is the exact opposite of his wife. She is cute, sweet and attractive, and I don’t know how they came together. Unfortunately, shortly after we made friends with them, Heidi became very ill. Her colon stopped working and she almost died.

Thankfully, her country has first-class health care that saved her life, but she found out that she had Crohn's disease, so she had to buy a colostomy bag. When she recovered from the operation, her husband committed a terrible betrayal. The bastard announced that he wanted to divorce. His words are, I quote, "I didn't marry a sick woman." Ah.

He threw her high, and soon saw another person. Due to his bad behavior, he lost all the friends he made in our country. My family told him that we no longer welcome him to come near us because we are there to take care of Heidi. He finally messed up and went home; apparently, he owed a lot of debt and ran away to avoid paying the debt.

Good to get rid of, we all said. Heidi finally found her feet. She began to study photography and went to university to study. She did a good job for herself and lived a happy life without any bastards. About a year later, Jerk contacted Heidi, and she told us the whole incredible story. Obviously, he tried sweetly to persuade her to go to Israel, where he came from, and go through the divorce procedures.

According to Heidi, you have your marital status on your Israeli ID, which is one of the first things a girl asks to see when you are dating. When the girls saw him getting married on his business card, they would never go on a date again. So every time he called to ask her when she would come, she would grin and give him a perfect answer.

"Oh, I don't know, I really can't fly with my physical condition. Maybe wait for me to heal." She knew very well that he would not return here because his creditors were still pursuing their money. She would be happy to know that he was rejected by all the women he pursued in Israel, and she had a great time with us.

Heidi is doing much better now. She returned to Germany, although she still visits my family and her friends from time to time. She is still her great self. I don't know how the bastard is now, but I suspect he is still a bastard all these years.

Story Credit: Reddit / Bella_Anima

So this incident happened earlier today, and it was perfect. I work in the construction industry as a foreman for the construction of new houses. The location is a bit strange. The house is only 250 feet above the hill by the sidewalk. All our materials must be hand-walked onto this sidewalk. It is a painful thing to manually move the entire house up to this mountain.

One of our advantages is that there are two parking spaces marked with official "No Parking" signs on the street at the foot of this mountain. Unfortunately, there is an elementary school about half a block away, and the children’s parents seem to often (at least twice a day) think it’s okay to park at our place. Now, I consider myself a reasonable person, so if someone parks in these places and we have no delivery or need to park the truck, I will let it go.

However, if we need these attractions and someone stops there, I will ask them to move well, and most of the time they will do so immediately. until today. I received a call from the timber truck that was heading to our location. He said he would be there in about two or three minutes. I let him know that I will meet him on the street and make sure he has parking space.

He brought all the materials to build the roof of our house. This is a lot of very large wood. It can easily take an hour to go up the mountain, so I naturally don't want him to park his car in the middle of the road. His danger lasted for an hour, especially when we had a very good parking space. When I started the journey down the mountain, I noticed a school parent sitting idling in her car.

Assuming she was just waiting to pick up her child, I walked to her car and politely let her know that she was parked in a no-parking zone, and we really need her to clean it up to park a delivery truck. She sneered at me and replied rudely: "I'll wait a few more minutes, your truck hasn't arrived yet, man, take some cold medicine." Before I could react, a huge logging truck came from the corner. Drove here.

I waved to him, and then made a gesture to the woman in the car. She has now put the car window back and ignored me. I put on my best customer service smile and waved to her through the window. She put it down halfway and shouted, "What!" Now that the truck was parked next to her car, I asked her politely again, moving her car in a stronger tone.

I reminded her that she was parked in the trailer area. Then she gave me this brilliant idea. She said, "Can't you unload the goods by my side? Oh my god, it's not that difficult." I gave her another smile and walked away. A wonderful plan was formed in my mind. I instructed the delivery driver to park the car as close as possible to her and block her with the potty at one end of our reserved position and the parked car parked near the position at the other end of us.

He smiled because he immediately understood what I meant, and then skillfully blocked the lady and her car in a small cell with two parking spaces. We untied the wood straps, my people started to take the materials up the mountain, and at the same time I called the parking law enforcement agency to let them know the situation. At this moment, I am not trying to cause trouble for her, I just want to record why we block some streets so as not to cause trouble to the city.

The very friendly traffic officer let me know that she can get there in about 30 minutes and handle the situation for me, great! As we continued to unload the timber, the parents’ children showed up. Don’t you know, my mother realized that the timber truck was parked too close and she could not go out of the driver’s door to see her children.

She awkwardly crawled through the car and stumbled out of the passenger door, staring at me and the truck driver in the process. She put her baby in the back, and then began to realize that she could not leave. She rushed to me and the driver and said, "I am very anxious, you need to move your truck now so that I can go."

Before I could react, a smile appeared on the driver's face. He said: "Madam, in order to unload the timber from the truck, we had to untie its belt, and according to our company policy, I do not allow any unsecured cargo to be loaded on the truck. Sorry." The blood pressure was close to the level of the aneurysm, and I could hardly control my laughter.

"Go to your policy, I have a place to go!" She barked at him. At this moment, at an impeccably convenient time, the parking law enforcement officer appeared and parked behind the truck. The woman didn't see the police coming. When the police were still getting off the car, I just said casually: "Can't you pull it out? It's not that difficult."

I smiled brightest when I said this. I looked at her and realized that I was just using her lines on her. "Fuck you!" She yelled, rushed back to her car, and angrily climbed back into the driver's seat from the passenger door. Now the police officer walked in front of me and the driver. Before she introduced herself, the mother in the car suddenly reversed and stepped on the gas pedal.

She hit our potty, knocked it over, then drove the car to the drive and tried to install curbs and drove the car onto the sidewalk. When she walked to the side of the road and got stuck, the police officer, the driver, and I stared at her in disbelief. I can hear her screaming at the idling truck in the car. The police officer immediately went to the door of the car and ordered her to get off.

My favorite part of the whole thing was looking at her face in shock, because she realized that she was just doing it all in front of a police officer. When the parking officer requested a second unit, she was handcuffed and immediately sat on the side of the road where she was trying to drive. She sat on the side of the road and shouted to the two police officers how we told her she could stay there, and we never asked her to move.

The traffic official replied that when she refused to move for the first time, she was the one who called her first, and she already knew what had happened. When the driver and I reported to the second officer, my man completed the movement of the remaining wood, and the driver completed his statement and took off back to the yard.

At the end of the ordeal, she was accused of endangering children (her child has been in the back seat of the car) reckless driving, destroying property, (going to the toilet) and revoking her driving license. Most importantly, her car was also towed away. The child went home with his grandmother, and she went to the cell to spend a good time.

I never thought that she would really follow my advice and "get around it." But I think next time she might think twice, and if she can get a driver's license again, she will park in the towing area.

This story happened when I was in my third year of college. I am taking a course, and the whole grade is determined by the final project of a semester. We should have participated in this project in groups of three, but the third person in our group was wiser than me and gave up early. Only me and Lazy Girl (hereafter referred to as LG) are left.

LG did nothing throughout the semester. I will ask her to handle all parts of the project, but she always has a reason to explain why it has not been completed (or in her case it has already started). Now, I don't want to have any conflict with this girl because she was my friend at the time, but I finally lost it one night at the end of the semester.

I once invited her to meet at my home for the project, but "some important things happened." Fed up with this one-sided partnership, I decided to express my pain at the local bar that night. Guess who I met? LG went out for a drink with her boyfriend! She made up some stupid excuses for me-so I made a plan of revenge.

I completed the entire assignment, except for the conclusion I asked LG to complete. My hope for her to complete this part was completely zero, so I quickly completed it myself and handed over my project to the teacher. The notes detail how I did all the work for the project. Despite my best efforts, I still couldn't get LG to contribute.

I said that I am submitting my version, our conclusion part may be different, because I asked her to actually complete that part by herself. So here are some tidbits about our final project: each of us must hand in one. Not only did LG fail to make a conclusion here, she didn't hand in a project at all! She tried to call and complained that I didn't "give her trust" and I was angry that she didn't do anything on the whole project.

I mentioned that if she only does one thing, I even gave her the opportunity to hand in my homework to get a level! She hung up after that, and that was the last time we spoke.

Story source: Reddit / Past_life_God

Four years ago, when I was 24 years old, my mother died of breast cancer. Because my two grandmothers also died of breast cancer, I went to see an expert for screening. I found that some cells in one of my breasts can become cancerous at any time. Someone told me that I have a few options: First, I can have regular screening every three or four months until it does develop into cancer.

Someone told me that due to family history, the risk of cell cancer is very high. However, it may never turn, so I just accepted these screenings for no reason. Secondly, I can perform a mastectomy on the breast with bad cells, but they need to pay close attention to the other breast, so I still need to check the other breast regularly. Or three, I can perform bilateral mastectomy and remove all my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for a bilateral mastectomy. Undeniably, this is the most drastic choice, but after seeing the impact of cancer on my mother and grandmother, I don’t want to take a risk. I was warned of the scar, but was told it should be quite mild. They are wrong, wrong. This is not the case. I left two huge pink jagged scars on both sides of my chest.

Each was about an inch long and half an inch wide, which made me fall into a severe depression. It has reached the stage where I don't even leave my apartment because I don't want people to see me, throw away my mirror, and look at myself feeling unwell. I went to a therapist and he recommended a plastic surgeon. The therapist said that they usually don't do this, but this is obviously a problem I am trying to solve. I may never be able to overcome it. The therapist can understand why I try to solve it.

Although I admit that the therapist does ask me to ask about scar reduction, the plastic surgeon recommends creams, lasers or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was expensive and dangerous, so I chose implants. My natural breasts are F cups, so I chose a slightly smaller DD. Since then, my mental health has improved and I feel much better about my appearance.

My confidence has increased, and my self-esteem has also increased. I know that I should not invest too much in my appearance, but I did not exaggerate these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, look really bad, I hate seeing myself, now they are well hidden, you can hardly feel them. But then the plot came.

Today, I am 28 years old and work in an office. I am doing much better than before. My colleague Jill discovered that I had breast surgery (but it has nothing to do with cancer). At the time, my friend and I were planning a vacation a few years before the mastectomy. She joked that I was going to use my implants on a plane, Jill listened. arrive.

At the end of the day, the entire office knew that I made the implant, but for some reason, six people confirmed that Jill had told them. In the next few months, Jill made a lot of "jokes" and comments to my colleagues when I could hear them. Once he said that I "have more plastic than Barbie dolls" and called me "in Both aspects are false".

I didn't hear this myself, but a friend in the office told me that Jill once called me "a bag of silicone." I don't know what her problem is, but once she mentioned the hospital system, so I think Jill thought I used taxpayer money to make breasts for free. I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately, the place where I talked with her was in places like elevators and women's toilets, where there were no cameras.

No matter how often I ask her not to comment, Jill just keeps commenting. I won't say that every day is like this, but I heard at least three comments every week for three months. So I reached my breakthrough point. Me, Jill and a few other colleagues are having lunch, which I call superficial. Jill pointed to my chest and said, "You will know all about superficial things." I snapped.

I said, "Do you know why I have these? A few years ago, the doctor found potential cancer cells in my breast tissue. I was advised to undergo a mastectomy, but I left a huge unsightly scar on my chest. I went to see a therapist and he sent me to a cosmetic surgeon. He suggested that I hide the scar through implants. I did this so that I could look in the mirror without crying. Your own."

I took a breath here and said, "So maybe next time you want to judge a person for plastic surgery, you should ask them why they have to have plastic surgery first." It felt like that was the moment when the microphone was disconnected, and I picked up my food and left. NS. For the rest of the day, about one-third of the people in my office came to me and offered support, and the rest told me that Jill was just joking and that I was a witch.

I replied that Jill was already a witch before me. But this is not over yet. Then I received an email from HR saying that they wanted to talk to me the next day, and when I asked for clarification, they mentioned a "hostile work environment". I know the person who signed the e-mail and the person I have spoken to. Her name is Debbie, and she is a friend of Jill in the human resources department, so I have confidence in the person who reported me.

I realized that if this had been sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I started collecting my information. So far, Debbie has dealt with me. What is certain is that she will be the one reviewing the complaint with me. If this is true, I will be finished. However, I vaguely remember that when I first signed a contract with the company, there was a paragraph about complaints in my contract.

I looked through the contract, and there was a part in the complaint section that said that if I feel that the reviewer assigned by me is biased, I can change the reviewer according to the contract. It is called the "just overseer". I copied the page and highlighted the part. Then I sent a message to the people who provided support on Facebook.

I basically said: "HR asked to see me. Did any of you remember Jill insulting me in your presence. Would you like to write down and sign something you heard and when?" Not everyone Willing to help Jill because she makes friends with HR and management and is a little scared in the office, but about 20 people are willing to help me.

I roughly guessed when I asked Jill to stop before. I wrote them all down, as well as the approximate time when the lunch room confrontation took place and the list of people in the lunch room confrontation. I went to work a little earlier the next morning. I went to find all the people who sent me messages, and most of them managed to send me a printed and signed letter.

I received about 16 letters, all from different people, one of which was in Jill's lunch room and me. Some people even have a bullet point list of everything Jill told them about me or other people, because it turns out Jill has problems with the appearance of many people. She apparently made a comment on the weight of one colleague and some terrible comments on the nose of another colleague, all of which are written in these letters.

There are about 45 people in the office, so although 16 people are not the majority, it is still a good number. The letters are not long, most of them have only one paragraph, but they contain all the necessary information. I was asked to come to HR at 10 am. I put the letter from my colleague, the copy of the contract page, the date and time in a small folder. When I got there, Debbie was the person who supervised the interview.

She got up from her desk, ready to lead me to another room. At that time I put my plan into action. I immediately turned to another human resources staff member who was currently there and said: "Then I will meet with you?" Debbie said, "No, you are with me." I replied that this is not suitable for me because "I The contract stipulates that I am entitled to fair supervision."

As I said, I took the contract page from the folder. Debbie read it and said she can be fair. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a painful person, but I have good reason to think that the person at the other end of the complaint is her friend, and my contract does say that I am allowed to be a fair supervisor. So Debbie stomped to find a supervisor.

The supervisor asked me how I knew she could not be impartial, and I told him that I had good reason to think that Jill at the other end of the complaint was Debbie's close friend. He asked Debbie if it was true, and she only replied "I can be fair." The supervisor took a deep breath and asked another HR representative to go with him. The four of us went to check the complaint together.

I thank them for being so helpful (I'm worried I will annoy them), Debbie filed a complaint, and all three of them experienced it with me. Throughout the interview, Debbie looked fierce, because she had obviously anticipated that I would be fired, or at least suggested that I be fired. The interview is like this.

It took more than half an hour and they kept asking me the same question, but the wording was different, so this is a very condensed version. Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. why is it like this? A: Jill has had problems with me for about three months. Q: When you realize Jill has a problem, why don't you come to us?

A: I have no opinion on her. Question: What question does Jill have with you? A: Four years ago, an expert discovered potential cancer cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby eliminating the cells and risks. After the operation, I left a big scar on my chest. I went to see the therapist because of low self-esteem and depression.

The therapist recommended a plastic surgeon who recommended breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history, you have a copy in my file, and I have full permission to view it. Jill found my breast implants, but didn't know the cancer. Jill has a problem with my breast implants and decided to inform our colleagues about the problem.

Q: Why do you think this is true? A: Here are 16 signed statements from different colleagues, all of which prove that Jill told the entire office that I had breast augmentation surgery on the day she discovered it, and has often commented on these implants since then. They quoted what Jill said to them and the rough date and time.

Q: A rough date and time? A: No one knows that this incident will escalate to this level, so no one actually records it when it happens. Q: What or which incidents do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment? A: For me, when Jill told everyone about my breast augmentation surgery without my consent, the harassment started, but as for the complaint against me, it may have happened in the lunch room at about [time] yesterday. matter.

Jill commented that I was superficial when pointing at my breasts, and I replied that I gave her an abridged version of my relevant medical history, and finally commented on the importance of getting the full story. There is a camera in the lunch room, so I believe you can find that conversation. I admit that I could have handled this situation better, but after three months I felt that I had to let go.

The following is a list of people present. There are six people on the table, including me and Jill. One of them was also in these letters, and wrote down their conversation records and signed them. Q: Before that, have you had one or more conversations with Jill about her comments about you?

A: There are a few, separated in the past three months. Every time, I told her that I felt uncomfortable and upset about the comments she made, and I would be grateful if she could stop. Q: As far as you know, did Jill realize that you had cancer before? A: No. She accidentally didn't mention this in the conversation with my friend, and I didn't tell her because, frankly, it was none of her business, and I didn't think it was necessary to explain my medical history to a colleague in detail. To avoid further harassment.

The supervisor stood up and said, "Okay, I think we're over here." He shook my hand, returned me to my desk, and said that after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and their Anything you already own) and after making a decision on the case, I will receive a letter from them. I went back to my desk, took out my resume, and prepared to start looking for a job again. Then some strange things started to happen.

About an hour passed, and then the person who wrote the letter and talked in the lunch room was asked to meet with HR. They will be back in 10 minutes. Except for Jill, the others who were also talking in the lunch room were called out one by one. They all walked for about 10 minutes, then came back, found a colleague, and said that HR wanted to see them.

Then the people who wrote yesterday but were not there were called one by one. Everyone walked for about 10 minutes, some were longer and some were shorter. By about 3:30, it seemed that everyone who had written letters or was in the lunch room had been interviewed. Then, finally, Jill was called in. She walked for about 30 minutes, then came back with smoke.

She stared at me while I was working, but I ignored her. Around 4:30, Jill was called to HR again. Around 5 pm, when Jill rushed back to the office, everyone was either leaving or preparing to leave. She kept staring at me as she cleaned the table. Then she started telling anyone who would listen that I let her be fired before she pushed up the elevator. An email from HR. My case has been closed.

Four years ago, I worked as a cashier at the cash register. It is 10 o'clock in the evening, and these two young people in their early 20s come to the counter. They have three random novelty items (I don't remember them), but it is weird and unusual to get the weird item at such a late hour. Maybe it's for some fraternity, I don't know. This is a college town, so I got a lot of strange things from the Brotherhood.

I scanned these items and told them that their total price was $22.31. They grinned at each other, reached into their jackets, and jerked down the two-gallon zipper bag. When I saw what was inside, my eyes returned to my mind. They are only filled with pennies. I stared into their eyes, but they didn't even look back at me. The other people in the line sighed, and then went to other check-in offices.

The two children know what they are doing, but they don’t know what they are doing. I am ready for this. I know this will inevitably happen. I smiled at them because I will get paid during this period, and these pranksters just come here to have fun. This conversation happened between me, the boss (the other person was silent and embarrassed) and a friendly colleague of mine.

Me: Is this $22.31? Boss: ... Me: Have you counted? Boss: No. Me: Are you going? Boss: No. Me: Is it at least $22.31? Boss: I don't know. not my fault. Colleague: Hello! Everyone can use self-checkout. It can take all your coins at once. Me: Oh, don't worry-- Boss: No, don't believe them, madam.

Colleague: What? why! ? Boss: Don't count your change all right. Colleague: I have used it before. It really works! Me: (to colleague) I understand. I opened the Ziplocs package and threw all the coins on the counter. This is a beautiful, huge mess. Then I got in. The two people still avoided my gaze and began to giggle, as if they were taking away my dignity. They whispered to each other "brother, my god", "brother yes", "brother, funny." I counted every penny one by one.

My colleague came to me. Colleague: Let me count them for you. Me: Don't worry. (She looks at me confused. Then she puts on the look of "beginning busy".) Colleague: I support you. Me: *Oh...*Okay. We built a system, we counted ten, piled them into a pile, and then divided them with ten piles every ten pence to make a dollar pile.

We have made slow but sure progress. Some customers came to this line, but we recommend them to another line. Some of them looked at us in confusion, but when they saw that the counter was full of pennies, they understood. Some people decide to wait, but when they realize that it won't only take a few minutes, they leave. Another cash register opened, so it’s not bad for other customers.

We get about $12 (approximately 10 minutes). Then I retaliated. I "knocked" a bunch. Colleague: Hello! Me: Oops. sorry. (The colleague looks at my smile. I blinked at her, tilted my head, and motioned for her to leave) Colleague: You know what, I think I'd better let you do this. Me: Ha, okay. (The colleague leaves. I looked at the two guys. They were completely stunned by the piles of coins that fell.)

Me: (to the boss) Yes, I have to count it again. Boss:...Alright. I started from scratch. I counted more slowly than ever before, and then went back. The two were completely silent. I got about 7 dollars, and suddenly I said: Me: Drats. I can't count. I better start again. Boss: Really? Me: Oh yes, buddy.

Boss: Why! ? Me: I can't count it, sir. If my cash register does not have enough cash, I may be in trouble, and I don't want to lie to you. Boss: ... now about an hour later. My manager came over and looked at me. I smiled at him and he looked at the counter. He walked away without saying a word. I finally calculated all the changes. Here comes the best part.

Surprisingly, they only have $18! Me: Well, I think it’s $18. (The two are completely silent. They seem to have finished the night.) Me: I will restate. I fucked about it. Me: I think this is actually 19.23 dollars. (The boss takes out a $5 bill without saying a word) Me: Seriously? Do you have cash? Boss: Need to get rid of my changes.

I. no problem. I will say it again. I want to be absolutely sure that this is $19, because I paid $18 for the first time. Boss: Are you kidding me? (I shook my head, no, totally serious) Then he took a 20-dollar bill out of his pocket and threw it to me. My colleague gave the biggest WHAT THE HECK face.

Internally, I was disappointed because they were smart enough to make backup plans. In fact, he has been touching the cash in his pocket, which puzzles me. I take cash, make a transaction, give him change, thank him, and wish him good night. The two began to put their coins back in the zipper bag, and I didn't help them at all.

I look at them like they look at me. Many pennies fell on the ground, but they didn't want to pick them up. It seems that their souls have been sucked away. It was past midnight, and I passed by the time I should have been. Many of my colleagues give me a thumbs up or say good night to me. Even my manager told me "good job", these are the only two words he said to me.

After such a nice little penny night, went to sleep in the dormitory and crashed. It sounds strange, but I really want to count the pennies.

About six or seven months ago, my neighbor got a drone. I don't mind people having hobbies, but for some reason, he insists on flying like the biggest bastard. He would hover in front of other houses and windows, trying to "racing" cars on the road. Worst of all, he has the habit of driving drones in my fenced backyard.

He would start buzzing on my dog, swooping down on top of my dog's head, and then go around in circles to do it again. My dog ​​is not small, he is about 70 pounds. There was also a sled dog, but the drone frightened him, and I was worried about what would happen if it hit him. I repeatedly asked my neighbor not to fly in my yard and explained that it would scare my dog. His answer made my blood boil.

He basically told me that I was lost and laughed in front of me. When it still continued, I called the authorities. Unfortunately, they can do nothing but ask him not to fly over my house and property. Finally, in late December, it happened—my dog ​​got tired of his torture and managed to catch it as the drone dived towards him.

He tore up the drone, it was just a mess of wires and plastic. The neighbor is very angry. He rushed into my house, cursed and threatened me, I ignored it. A week later, I received a subpoena from the small claims court. He wants $900 for the cost of his drone, and another $300 for denying him access to his property.

Look, it took a few hours for the drone to sit in my yard before it was recovered. Screw that. He may have hurt my dog. I have no children or girlfriends. I only have my dog. He is my best friend for the past seven years. The dog moved with me three times. When I graduated from college, I was there and saw that I bought my first house and my first new car.

I love my dog. But it turns out that he sued me is the best thing ever. When we arrived at the small claims court, the judge basically laughed and he claimed that I deliberately trained my dog ​​to attack his drone. But he hardly knew that I was ready. I have dozens of photos in my yard, showing that it is impossible for him to "accidentally" fly to a place as low as my dog.

I also have a video of him harassing my dog ​​in the past. I saved all the medical expenses because I did not take my dog ​​to the vet. $700 for X-rays? Check. Give him another $250 to calm him down? Why not, don't want to make him uncomfortable. Complete dental examination and tooth cleaning/restoration? 400 dollars. Then there is the cost of anti-anxiety drugs and a second check, a week of wet food to prevent his teeth from hurting, and the extra just for better measures.

In the end, this bastard owed me nearly 2,000 dollars and is now being investigated by the FAA because he has not registered a drone and violated several regulations on drone flight. He is too close to the airport and too close to other people to see. Operator, and waaay is higher than the maximum height. Enjoy never being allowed to fly a drone again, man.

My former college roommate did not know how to cook or cook, and rarely went to buy groceries. This led him to eat my food, especially my leftovers, because those were prepared meals. Now, I will use my leftovers to prepare meals for the week and tell him to stop because it is expensive and inconvenient. This behavior did not stop, he actually seemed to eat more of my food unkindly.

To punish him, I baked a chocolate cake with habanero peppers and then mixed the frosting with mustard. I marked it with my name and a bold "don't eat" and waited. This guy has a very low tolerance for spicy food, so I thought he would take a bite and soon realized that his way was wrong. About two days later, he and some of his friends were drinking while I was at work and decided to dig into my food.

Somehow, they ate about a third before realizing it, and when they inevitably vomited from excessive drinking and eating spicy food, the cake hit them a second time. I'm not sure, but it won't feel good from the back end. When he asked me why I wanted to be this monster, I told him that I found a chocolate habanero recipe on the Internet that I wanted to try. Since then, he has stopped eating the food I cooked.

Story source: Reddit / asdf_qwerty27

So, my daughter was about eight years old, and she really liked Minecraft, just like most kids now. She also really wants to join the YouTube/Let's Play culture, so I installed some screen recording software that allows her to make videos of the games she is playing so that she can upload them to YouTube in the future.

Anyway, one day, when I hear her sniffing quietly on the computer, I am thinking about my own business. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn't want to tell me, so I let go, but decided to pay attention to her. A few minutes later, I found out what was happening. Someone is not only harassing her, but also all other children playing on any server where she is.

This kid was talking about how he would harm my 8-year-old daughter (she told him how old she would like him to stop), how he would hack into her IP and obtain her information, and curse (remember, this is for the child Games they play) and so on. At this point, I have involved my fiancée, and she is obviously also very dissatisfied with what this child has done.

Then we realized that our daughter had been recording the entire incident, and a plan began to take shape. I first searched for my child’s username on Google. There were a few clicks immediately, the most interesting of which was his public application to become a Minecraft server module page. I can learn a lot from this little idiot.

He claims to be 15 years old and loves hockey. He used to live in Toronto but now lives in Florida. But the blockbuster is easily his Skype contact information; it is actually the name. Last name. I know your name now, you bastard. So I went to Facebook and searched for the name. No. Uh-huh. Intuitively, I only search for last names and narrow the search results to Florida.

Hit it dozens of times. Um. So I had to start combing through each one until I found what I was looking for: a middle-aged man with the same surname whose profile indicated that he was born in Toronto and now lives in Florida. I found your father, you little bastard. So I sent him a message on Facebook asking if he has a son named firstname, and he used his username on Minecraft.

Dad confirmed that I found the right person. So my fiancee started telling my father everything his son said to my daughter, and we sent him the recorded video as evidence. The radio was silent for a few days. Then we received a reply. The bastard was taken away by his computer all summer. He also lied about his age. He is only 11 years old, I think.

His parents were very angry with him, and he must hate the next few months of his life. No one bullies my daughter.

I have been enrolled in a culinary school for more than a year, and my mother has never supported it, mainly because I dropped out of nursing courses to enter this culinary school. She always makes sarcastic comments on how I should become a nurse or a lawyer, or how I will become a submissive housewife in this profession.

When I do something, she always criticizes it. It's like she was Gordon Ramsay or something: "Oh, too much salt." "Not cooked." "It looks disgusting." Although almost everyone said the opposite. She is looking for any little things she can criticize my cooking. She kept telling me that I can't cook and I need to pursue a real career.

I made a three-course dinner for my family and they always get positive reviews, except for her. She organized a party for her work friends, and I made a whole plate of homemade meatballs using my specialty. This is a recipe that I conceived myself, and it is also my signature dish. Everyone keeps going back and getting more, so much that they ran out.

I asked my mother what she thought, and she said, "They are drinking and can't taste anything." So I thought, if I want her to praise my cooking, I have to deceive her. I cooked her a meal, one of her favorites from the beginning, this is the biggest weakness she can never resist. I dressed it up to look professional, then put it in a universal takeaway box and asked my boyfriend to take a video of me preparing it from beginning to end.

I called her, told her that my boyfriend and I were eating in this restaurant (that doesn't exist), and gave it a pseudonym for it and everything. I told her they had her favorite meal, and asked her if she wanted us to bring her a meal. Of course, she said yes. I brought this dish and told her more about the fake restaurant. She started to eat it and praised how good it was.

She even said how much she wanted to go to the restaurant to buy another one. After she was almost finished eating, I asked her for her honest opinions, so we could write reviews on Yelp. She continued talking for 10 minutes, saying how great it was, and then I bounced it on her. I'm already cooked. Her tone changed. She put down the fork and said she was lying, it tasted like garbage.

My boyfriend showed her the video. She googled the restaurant, but it didn't show up. Then she began to point out the shortcomings of the meal, such as too much sauce, and it was really spicy, which burned her mouth. I asked her why it was so spicy that she almost finished the whole thing. 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 found her eating in another room. I asked her again, she laughed, and finally told me yes, I am a good cook. So, after suspecting that I was a good cook and blocking my dream for a year, she finally admitted.

We don't have a car, we live at the end of a dead end, and people keep turning around in my driveway. It's no big deal to me, it's a bit annoying when they compact snow and it's harder to shovel snow, but anyway. One of my neighbors has a special car to pick up his children every day. The van will stop at my location and start honking the horn around 8 in the morning (I was working at night at the time).

Half of the time he will stop on my grass. I told my neighbor that I wouldn’t mind my position being taken up too much, but if this person honked the horn like this every morning, especially if he had to drive past the small lawn I own every time, I wouldn’t Mind too much. She talked to him and he ignored it. I talked to him and got "What's your problem, it's not like you are using it."

I repeat, if he stays away from my grass and doesn't sound the horn every morning, I don't mind him using it. Obviously suggesting that he wait until the child notices that he is there, or, God bless, he must drag his butt out of the car and knock on the door, which is ridiculous and inhumane to me. So I left a recycling bin at the foot of the driveway. He just ran over.

I called the dispatcher of the ride-hailing service and was told that they were subcontractors and technically self-employed people, but they would pass on information. When I woke up the next day, I knocked on my door. Dude is very angry. He: "How dare you call my boss you a fool! What's wrong with you? Me: "Well, it's very simple. If you drive on my lawn every morning and wake me up, you are told not to use my driveway. Now come down from my door. "

He: "If I lose my job because of you, I will sue you." Me: "You have been warned. Don't violate my driveway or property!" The man cursed and left angrily. So this happened on Thursday, and the children had a PD day the next day. This should be one of those pleasant weekends in Canada, when the temperature dropped to -40 degrees Celsius.

For my American friends, -40 is where Celsius and Fahrenheit meet, so it is very cold. So that night, I picked up an older plastic trash can, made sure to plug all the holes with a lot of tape, put a slogan on it that said "Private property, driveway is not for public use" and continued to put it Fill it with water.

Now, before anyone thinks I am a bastard who is willing to harm other children in the car, I want to point out that my neighbor’s child was the first to be picked up, so he is the only one in the car. Line up on Monday morning. He saw the trash can, poured it back a little bit, and charged the trash can provocatively, as if to teach me a lesson. He then continued to cause considerable damage to the front end of his car. The guy went out to get angry, called the authorities, then knocked on my door, screaming that I was going to buy him a new car, and I was going to slammer.

Officer: "So let me make sure I understand the situation. He told you not to park here if you can't honk the horn, then warned you not to park here and set up obstacles. Now you want him to be charged and compensate you The damage caused by his vehicle in an attempt to destroy his own personal property?" I will never forget the look on his face when the police officer said: "Yes, this is not the way he works."

Then he turned to me and asked if I would charge him for damaging my personal property. I just gave him the biggest smile and said, "No, I think we are fine." Then I went back to the house to enjoy the morning coffee while looking at him from the window of my kitchen, he paced back and forth in the cold , Waiting for the tow truck, had to call the company where he worked to explain why they needed to send another driver to complete his route.

When I was hired to do my current job, I was hired to work from Tuesday to Saturday from 2pm to 10pm. It has been my schedule for the past few months, and it has never changed. I was told verbally that this was the schedule I set, and I even clarified this because I had to arrange childcare services. For example, one week I accidentally didn't go as planned at all, and was told to only work according to the normal schedule.

Around Thanksgiving, we closed for a week. The company’s policy is that you must complete the last scheduled shift before the break and complete your first scheduled shift after the break to receive holiday pay. On the Monday after Thanksgiving (remember that I usually rest on Monday), I received a call saying that I was assigned to work because I did not come in, so I would not get holiday pay.

This made me very angry because I was told that I would work from Tuesday to Saturday, so only childcare services were arranged on those days, so I couldn't even come in that day if I wanted to. The exact phrase I was told on the phone was, "You are responsible for checking the schedule every week because we have no set schedule."

Fast forward to this week. While checking the schedule, I noticed that my schedule was the same as normal, except that I was not in the schedule on Saturday. So, I decided not to put the gift in my mouth, and only used the three-day weekend, not to tell my boss that she had left me. So on Saturday (I usually work), I will not go in because I have no arrangements.

I received a work call but did not answer it, and they did not leave a voice mailbox. Then I received a text message from my boss saying that my schedule "will never change", it will be unanswered/no one in my attendance record because I am not working. I replied that I am not on the timetable, so I don’t need to come in because I have a responsibility to check the timetable every week because we don’t set a timetable.

I have not received any further response and I am looking forward to seeing how the work progresses on Tuesday. I also took a photo of the timetable to make sure I can prove that I did not complete it on time, in case my boss tries to write to me. By the way, I do have a new job waiting in line, I'm just waiting for my start date before quitting this job.

Story source: Reddit / the803project

Some things about me make it really bad for me to have a food thief: I have a lot of food allergies, so I can't just eat lunch in the cafeteria or nearby restaurants. I have a newborn baby, I am breastfeeding, who am I breastfeeding for at work. Do you know how hungry pregnant women are? Yes, the calorie requirement of breastfeeding is 100-200 calories higher. I am always hungry.

Because I have a new baby, I can't show up at work with lunch half the time. I either don't have time to pack, or if I remember, I will leave it on the counter. My solution to all this is to leave a lot of non-perishable snacks in my office. There are a lot of sweets, because I also have a three-year-old child, so work is the only place I can put food, drink and fun into my mouth. A small hand reaches into my field of vision and whispered "pwease?"

These are particularly allergen-free snacks. Therefore, some are also specialty foods. The taste of this specialty food is not as good as that of food containing allergens, and the price is twice that of the latter. Because I don’t have enough sleep now, I deserve good things. So, because I don’t have enough sleep now, when I came back from maternity leave for the first time, packed my snack store, and started to find that things were missing, I really thought I was just losing my mind.

A box of candies runs out faster than I thought. When I come in this morning, things will not be where I left off. Once, I took a bag of potato chips to work, folded the edges of the bag so that I wouldn't stick my elbows deep into the oil pit, and put a bag clip on it when I got home. When I came in the next morning, the bag was unfolded and clamped again.

I said, "Wow, I must be more tired than I thought." I rolled the bag back and unfolded it the next morning. It's such a small thing almost every day, which makes me feel "Wow, the postpartum brain is worse than I thought!" And then. and then! Then I caught a cold. I was sick and was out for a whole week. What stays in the office is a box almost full of Enjoy Life biscuits. They are not pleasant, but they do not contain all the major allergens. They are also $5 per box, such as 12 sad biscuits with cinnamon.

I ate a row of these biscuits, and then I left the office for a week. For a week, I did not eat any snacks that I had hoarded. But others are. Because I came back to work, I opened my cookie box and found one. Only a single cookie is left. Moreover, after further inspection, the opened box of candies is nowhere to be found. In addition, the thief politely opened a new box for me, but they actually followed the "push here to open" instructions instead of Just open one end of the box like me.

The combination of these two things-opening a new box so you can continue to take it away from others, except for almost a whole box of special biscuits that are not even tasty, it is simply too bold-it irritates me , After going to my boss and getting some vague promises about checking whether the security cameras on the flank of my building are working (what?), I went straight to Amazon and ordered a nanny camera for myself.

Not for my baby. For my snack library. Conveniently, it arrives the day before Valentine's Day. I put it on top of a filing cabinet and looked down at my desk. On the table, I put out a lot of snacks. I got the favorite of all my thieves, and then I went one step further. I bought myself a Valentine's Day heart, opened the seal to make it more attractive, and then left it on my table.

The next morning, I entered some very obvious snack carnage. My thief slowly became more and more cheeky (again, who opened a new box?? and opened it in a different way from the person they took from them??) but it was only on another level. The individually packaged items have been poured out of their boxes. Some packaging was thrown away. And, yes; they ate some Valentine's Day candy.

Shame, office thief! Don’t you know that it comes from someone who loves me? ? I played back the video. It was quiet for most of the night, and I just watched the shadows stretch as the sun slowly fell through the corridor windows. and then! Shortly before midnight! Here comes the night cleaner! Continue to walk forward, rest for 12 minutes in my office, sit in my chair, and eat my food.

I started taking screenshots. I asked him to shovel the candy into his mouth with full palm to lips strength. Pour things on the table and choose his favorite flavor. He didn't even bother to put them back where he found them. Yes. Eat my Valentine's Day candy. The screenshot was sent directly to my boss via email. I walked directly to the door of the boss' house and smiled and asked him if he had read my e-mail.

I got a strong-worded email guarantee to the cleaning company and barred this particular employee from entering our business premises. I was also euphemistically asked to take my unauthorized spy camera home, and I did it. I thought it was all over, but it was not the case. One day, the girl who worked in the commissary came to thank me. Obviously, the stealing thief would start shifts when she closes at night and try to get free coffee in that kind of "creepy guy" way.

Then a receptionist walked over with the same mood. I have never met this person face to face, but obviously, as a woman, this is not an interesting experience. I showed my screen shots to several colleagues, and the news spread quickly. I was on an earlier shift, so I did not recognize him, but the person who overlapped his shift recognized him.

I didn't tell my husband what I did because when I went home and furious about the blatant theft during my illness, his only answer was "You really shouldn't leave food at work, then." But, When I took the nanny camera home and explained where and why I got it, his reaction surprised me.

"You know, I think this is the first time I have seen you stand up for myself. I am proud of you." What do you know? I am also proud of me!

This happened to a family friend, let us name him Sean. His parents are American, but he was born in South America, where he grew up naturally. He speaks fluent Spanish, although he doesn't look Hispanic. He is blond with green eyes and fair skin. Fast forward a few decades. He is now in his 20s and has moved back to the United States, where he has lived since he was a teenager.

At this point, his Spanish and English are perfect. He went to a certain "Mexican" fast food restaurant, we call it "e. Coli", the staff adds your raw materials to the production line, and finally you pay. As soon as he ordered the food, the two Hispanic workers started making fun of his hair, tight jeans, and his entire appearance.

I remember he mentioned that they particularly wanted to know where his ball fits in those skinny jeans, and concluded that he might not have it, while smiling cleverly and still maintaining professional demeanor when they filled his bowl. Sean was able to remain calm and quiet, completely ignoring everything they said, just continuing to go offline.

When he arrived at the cash register, the cashier (not one of the two employees) called him. At this moment, he calmly asked the cashier to call the two employees, because there was no line at the time, so they did. When the staff came and wanted to know what happened, Sean said in English: "I am very grateful for the service you provide. Your comments are also top-notch. Now, if you can be so kind..."

Then he did not hesitate to say in perfect, zero-accent Spanish: "I am pueden llamar a su jefe?" The translation is: "Can you call your boss over?" He said that their reaction is that he will never I will forget. The manager prepared meals for him and gave him 10 gift cards to the restaurant. He lives near that particular location, and he never saw those two employees again.

A few years ago, I lived on the northwest coast of Puerto Rico. This is a very relaxing area with many good restaurants and lots of green spaces. My apartment is on a cliff, not far from the water. The power infrastructure is a bit old, so in the rainy season, we will lose power for several hours at a time. It's no big deal-I have a gasoline generator.

Enter a new neighbor. He lives two doors away from me and drives an amazing custom Chevrolet van from the 70s. All it needs is an epic airbrush wizard. Sadly, this is where his strengths end. I found him taking out the gas from an orange tank, in case the generator runs out, I will stay outside. Although I saw him doing this and called him out, he denied it and pretended to be stupid.

So after the second time, I filled all the gasoline in the jar with the generator and put the rest in my car. Then I went to the nearest gas station with diesel and filled it up. A few days later, I was awakened by a reversing trailer, ready to pick up his now malfunctioning truck. I looked out the window and you can see the anger on his face. He moved out next month, and learned from my conversations with people in the community that he is an ordinary garbage man, and he deserves what happened.

We live in an apartment building and occasionally new people move in and out. Yesterday we met a new tenant, a red-haired lady with short hair. My boyfriend greeted her with a simple "hello". He also tried to say "welcome", but she interrupted him, "Shut up, I don't know you." Well, it's not a sociable type, and neither are we, so let's not be friendly!

When I came back from grocery shopping today, we found that she was trying to pick a lock with something that looked like a paper clip, because you know, it would work. She had obviously been doing it for a while, because before we opened the door with the key, a patrol car stopped and a police officer stopped her. We stopped to watch because it was happening.

The police officer asked her why she broke in. She replied that she lives here. Then she turned to us and said: "They know me." My boyfriend smiled and said, "I don't know you." After the police officer asked us to confirm that we entered the building, my boyfriend repeated: "We don't know her." Can't wait I want to have more contact with her...

I am a 5-foot-4 male, and I don’t look as strong as I am. I was waiting in line for priority boarding. When the lady behind me said, "Sorry, this is priority boarding. It has just started. You need to wait with others." I ignored her and showed my active duty status. Boarding pass. My only retaliation was the waiter saying "Thank you for your service".

I turned to the woman behind me and smiled and said, "Thank you!" Before boarding the plane.

I tried to find a parking spot in my university. As we all know, it is crowded, but my campus does not have many choices. While searching, I saw a Corvette occupying four main positions near the front of the parking lot. After about 10 minutes of waiting and finding a location, one person finally opened the door to the back of the plot.

Angry at the inconsiderate nerves of the Corvette driver, I wrote a note saying: "I'm sorry, I ran into your car, you may not notice the damage", and then left it in their block. On the windshield. When I returned to my car after class, I saw a very rigid college-age Corvette owner yelling on his mobile phone and frantically searching for their car.

I don't know who they are talking to, but I feel sad that they have to deal with this person.

Story source: Reddit / asdf_qwerty27

Six years ago, my boyfriend and I met online through an online game called RuneScape. He is 14 years old and I am 17 years old, but it feels like we are always friends. We all play games a lot and build connections through it, which eventually led us to a long-distance relationship. As the years passed, things started to escalate, and we started to meet every few months or so.

We are about 1,500 miles apart, so one of our main priorities for the future is to move in and get closer together. My work prevented us from doing this, but we finally set a date for me to live with him in December this year. Our relationship has never had any serious problems, and I am very happy to have him in my life because he is very happy to have me.

As I get older, I start to play RuneScape less and less, because work takes up most of my time. He continues to play regularly, even more than when I first met him. He has never really found a job and has almost no income, but I have supported him for many years and even paid his rent from all over the country after he moved out of his parents' house a few years ago.

I never mind, because he is a sweetheart, but we started to have problems. Last November, I couldn't help but pay his monthly rent. After having to pay for my own living expenses and the auto maintenance fees and bills owed to the country, I was short of cash, and I was unable to support him at that time. When I called him one night to discuss this matter, he was frightened and started crying, saying that he didn't want to live with his parents anymore.

I tried to calm him down and even suggested that I could help him find a temporary job until I could start feeding him again, but he didn't. He claimed that if he goes home, his parents will hurt him. I know this is incorrect because he and his parents have lived with me several times. They gave him the whole world.

I did calm him down in the end, but he remained passive and aggressive all night, and we finally hung up. Because I cared about him, I contacted his father the next day and told him that he might move back home after that month's lease expires. I explained how I couldn't afford him for one or two months of living expenses. If there is any local job, he can work in order to...you know, make money.

Obviously, a friend of his father needs to help him manage a small warehouse to run his business, and hopes to hire my boyfriend this season. It pays $15 an hour and is very simple (lift the box, sweep the floor and take inventory). My boyfriend and I asked this question that night, but he didn't. Not only did he not want to work in a "stupid warehouse", but he didn't want to work at all.

What he plans to do day after day is to play RuneScape. I brought up a list of other jobs I found in his area, and he immediately shot them all down. Then the situation became ten times worse. Then he boldly commented on how he thought I should work harder and possibly do a second job. I remained calm and just opposed it until we finally hung up.

Under intense emotional pressure, I collapsed on the bed and cried for an hour or two. Not only do I work eight hours a day, but six days a week, I am also an industrial meteorologist. If I remember correctly, this is much more than playing RuneScape and using my Hulu account every day. At that moment I really thought about breaking up with him, but I changed my mind and decided to give him another chance. In retrospect, it was quite wrong.

I sent him a message all night, we were almost made up, but I was still a little uneasy about the whole incident. By December, he had moved back to his parents, and I started to find a job for him, but he wasted his life playing video games. I finally convinced him to start working in a small retail store near his home, and thankfully, he started to make money!

I will still buy him video games and transfer money to him as usual, because I spoiled him and our relationship started to feel a little better again. Last month, I pooled together money with him to fly him across the United States and stayed with me for four days. We haven't seen each other since last summer, so we are looking forward to it.

He came and we had a great time for the first few days because he could actually use his new income to take me on a date. Everything was perfect...until I caught a glimpse of the lock screen of his phone while he was in the shower. "When did you leave herrrrr," the Discord message read. At that moment I could run into the bathroom and bite his neck, but I kept myself together as much as possible.

In my life, I have never felt so used, disrespected or hated. When he came out of the bathroom, I pretended to smile, but from that moment I really hated him. He could have fallen on the floor, and I would spit at him. I spent the whole night watching him play RuneScape, I have been very quiet. He noticed this and asked me if everything was fine. I lied and told him that I was fine.

When it was time to go to bed, I asked him to climb into the bed with me, and he tried to get close because it was the last night we were together. I rejected him as politely as possible without completely tearing his members away. He was disappointed, but it went out like a lamp. As soon as he fell asleep, I reached out and unplugged his mobile phone and started to look through his and the girl's messages.

I am worried that I misunderstood the information I saw, but after all I am completely correct. Not only has he been cheating on me, he has been doing this for almost six months, making me believe that he hooked up with another girl directly after I couldn't afford his living expenses in November. I scrolled through about 100,000 messages and wanted to spit out my heart when it ended.

He talked about my nonsense, claimed that I had abused him emotionally (as he did to his parents), and even sent a nude picture of me to this girl, who could physically separate me. When I came in the morning, I was already asleep because I read his news too late. I woke up to find him playing RuneScape on my computer and eating my food.

It was as if all our relationships were erased from my mind, and he is now an evil stranger sitting in my house. I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to tear him to pieces and kick him out of my house into the street, but I didn't. In fact, I gave him as much love and attention as possible that morning because I wanted to make things between us feel normal.

I sent him to the airport, and before I left him forever, we had a quick and gloomy farewell, he didn't know. I drove home as calmly as possible, and then cried out in a mixture of total anger and emotional pain. I ended up kicking my bed frame so hard that the wood cracked, and I recently had to buy another one. If only his face would be fine.

When he comes home, I want to break his heart, but I hope it really hurts. I logged into the joint RuneScape account we established a few years ago, where he and I will train on the same account and raise it like our "baby". We have been joking that if we break up, he will take half of the bank deposit in the account, and I will take the rest. So I got him back very well.

I transferred half of me to my main account, and then gave half of him to random people throughout the game. Every bit of it. Even for items that are normally untradeable, I use spells to convert the items into coins, and then I send them out. The bank is empty now. Then another idea came to mind.

Then it occurred to me that the credentials of his main account were written on my desk because he often asked me to train his agricultural skills every once in a while. I did not hesitate to log in to his precious 14-year-old RuneScape account. I immediately took all the contents of his bank and sold them all on Grand Exchange, a marketplace in the game.

It takes a long time to clear his bank, but he still has to fly home for about four hours, so I have enough time. When I sold/destroyed everything, I had four stacks of coins, totaling more than 8.5 billion. How to spend it now, um... I want to waste his "life income" on the most useless and stupid thing I can think of, except for him.

I re-logged into my main account and contacted a friend of mine who collected a large amount of burnt food. For those who don't know, the burnt food in RuneScape is useless. You cannot "burn" them, eat them, or even sell them on the big exchanges. However, they can be traded between players. I always make fun of this guy for collecting burnt food, but now I am more grateful than ever to know him in my revenge.

I asked him what was the most inconspicuous and least necessary thing in the burnt food, and he replied: "Scorched spider." Look, there are about 6,000 items in his bank. "Spider on the shaft (burnt) ", he is willing to sell it to me. I was very generous to my ex-boyfriend's coins. I gave my friend a whole pile of 2.147 billion coins and left a very happy customer.

I threw 6,083 burnt spiders into his bank, but there were still about 6 billion coins to spend. With the remaining money, I decided to treat myself kindly. I went to the big exchange and finally went shopping! The first thing I bought was 100 bonds. If you are not familiar, the bonds in RuneScape will provide you with 14 days of in-game membership. After trading all 100 bonds into my account, I have now paid membership fees for nearly four years.

I spent most of his coins on very beautiful armor, all of which went directly to my account. He still had about 1 billion, so I spent it on supplies I needed to upgrade an expensive skill of mine. By the end of the afternoon, there were only 150,000 coins left in his bank, and I gave all of them to someone who made pizza outside the exchange.

Nothing was left, so I decided to pick up a pile of bones from the ground and leave it alone in his bank. This may sound trivial, but I laughed for a while. Now, I know what you are thinking. This is so cruel, you ruined his tens of thousands of hours into the game! Well, it's time to let him know that I can be a witch, a despicable witch.

In addition to spending the last coin he made, I also improved his defense skills. This may sound good. In fact, this sounds like a good thing! I helped his account progress, right? Well, no. Unfortunately, for my predecessor, he has what players usually call a "pure" account: this means he never, never dare to upgrade his defense skills from level 1 in order to maintain the lowest defensive data but Have high offensive data. Well, it's not anymore. Enjoy the fun of permanent 6-level defense.

Hundreds of possible forms of revenge circulated in my mind, and then I decided to get rid of his house. Owning a beautiful house of your own in RuneScape is a considerable achievement. In fact, he is one of the best players I have seen in the game. In order to build it, he must spend more than billions of coins. Too bad, I disassembled them all within a few minutes and deleted them all in cyberspace.

And there is no insurance. If he wants a new house, he will have to repurchase everything with money he doesn't even exist. Goodbye, liar's house. Looking through his friends list, I decided to play him, visit his friends who are currently online, admit that I cheated my girlfriend, and feel very proud of it.

If his friends had not deleted him at that time, I would delete them. They are all. Finally, add a beautiful little cherry to this revengeful cake. I changed his username. You can change your username on RuneScape once a month, so I changed his username to let everyone know that he is a dirty liar. I obviously won't give up his username here, but I tried my best to embarrass him with the 12-character limit.

He should be able to withdraw his previous username in about three weeks, but if he waits too long, I can swipe it and post it to my own one-time account forever. Later that night, he sent me a very hateful and aggressive message, followed by a picture of him crying. I wrote him a sincere message to officially end the relationship, and at the same time threatened to "sue him to court" because he shared my intimate photos. If he contacts me soon, he may apply to stop. And stop.

I don't plan to do this, I just don't want to talk to him anymore.

I don't mind what my roommate borrows from me. We have all been there. All I ask is the measures they take to replace them. You drink my milk? Buy me new milk. It's that simple. Unfortunately, my current roommate doesn't seem to understand this. She keeps taking my things. When I ask her to replace all the things she took, she will buy a new thing. Although she is richer than me, she "forgets" to do so next time.

When I wanted to wash my clothes, I finally had sex, only to find an empty box with my washing powder in it. I don't buy fancy or expensive things, and I don't care about the brand. After using my last mouthful of talcum powder a week ago, she can almost buy the cheapest unbranded talcum powder in the world, and I will be fine. So I just love it.

I told her over and over again that if she did not plan to replace it, she should not use my washing powder, and I have had enough. I bought a box of new washing powder, some Dylon machine dye, mixed with a little washing powder, and poured it into the old box. When the dye dries, it looks like washing powder, especially in unexpected situations.

I brought my new washing powder cartridge to my room and waited. A week later, when I came home from get off work, I saw her clothes hanging outside, all in mysterious pink. She stomped towards me, demanding to know what I had done. I told her I was going to dye my clothes, someone told me it would be lighter if I mixed it with powder (lie), and then asked her why she should use it, because it was obviously in a box and it said mine Name When I told her not to use it because she never changed it, it?

I don't think she believes me, but she finally got the news. She almost never takes my things now, and when she takes them, she will quickly replace them.

When I divorced-my 18-year-old alcoholic wife started another thing, this time with her drug addiction counselor-my lawyer and I set up a trap for them. Just in case you don’t know, the regulator strongly discourages the close relationship between counselor and patient. After getting her to undergo rehabilitation treatment ($25,000, I don't have to do this), I was very angry, and as a result she went back to her previous behavior.

Shortly before the divorce was finalized, I filed a complaint with the state agency that obtained the health professional license. Knowing that they were in danger because of their unprofessional relationship (I had let him be fired from a large teaching hospital), she gave up her exorbitant demands. I paid her a very modest compensation, kept the house, got the custody of three teenage children, and got the child's support.

Naturally, her lawyer added a clause in the divorce agreement. I must agree not to say anything negative about her lover and their relationship. But the lawyer messed up and never asked me if I had already filed an accusation, so I didn't ask me to drop the accusation. Her lawyer thought I was just talking bad things about neighbors and friends, and the lawyer never thought we could do more. But we do more.

Soon after the divorce was finalized, when the Health Career Commission responded to my complaint, I told them that a subpoena was needed for me to testify, because a subpoena is better than an agreement in the divorce settlement. They are happy to help. They revoked his license and put him on the sanctioned roster of health professionals.

He never worked again. They went bankrupt within a few years, and when the money ran out, she divorced him. Oh, and the icing on the cake is that he and my wife exchanged bills, especially the hotel receipts when they cheated, which helped each of us in our divorce. In the end, justice was greatly served.

So I need dog food at Costco and I was too busy on Monday. There were almost no parking spaces until I found one at the end of the parking lot. I was walking down the aisle, and when I was about to turn into the parking space, a lady ran by the side of the road and almost hit me to take a place. Thankfully, I stepped on the brakes in time, otherwise she would remove my bumper.

I looked up and she was shaking her head and gestured "no" to me. Is there a mistake? I said it was okay, I just waited for her to come back, because I was obviously turning to the scene. She didn't. My girlfriend was with me and was so angry that the lady did not give in. So I gave her my Costco card and sat down in the aisle to confront the lady.

My girlfriend went in, took the dog food, came back, and loaded it into the car. Then she pushed the car to where we were waiting and jumped into the car. The look on the woman's face is enough to satisfy me for a week. She had to get out of the car and move the cart so that I could stop when I reversed and crossed the aisle. worth.

I work in a construction company and we remodel the house. We have a rule here, we must keep whatever we find hidden behind the wall. We hired this guy (we really need a worker), and he was a bastard from the beginning. I have worked in this company for five years, and this person has only worked in construction for one year after being fired from accounting.

In any case, he always made fun of my clothes and my accent, and one day he told my boss about my private Instagram account photo, which was too much. He picked up my phone, browsed my Instagram page, and showed my boss photos of my weeds. The joke is on him; my boss is my friend from eight years ago, which is not surprising to him.

Despite this, I was so angry that he violated my privacy-so I made a plan to mess him up directly. He is the kind of person who is always late and complains that he is always late for trains or traffic. One day, I overheard him saying that if he won the lottery, he would quit his job because he didn't get the "respect" he deserved.

You know, because you have to earn your respect here. So a few days later, I bought some fake gold coins online and put them in a metal box I found in an antique shop. Then I waited for the opportunity to hide it on the wall. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long. The day he found the coin seemed to be the best day in his history.

The first thing he did when he opened the box was to call my boss a loser, and he quit on the spot. He said, "Go to this place, I am rich." He didn't know, it was the best day of my life. After he resigned, my boss told us that he would fire him anyway because he was always late...I wish I could see his expression when he found out that the gold coins were fake. The best 40 dollars I spent in my life.

So, I married an amazing woman. She is smart, funny, and very kind. Her mother is generally very nice and has a very good attitude, very likable. Of course, she is a bit cautious, but overall it is pleasant. However, she may be a major snoop. If my wife keeps her mobile phone with her, she will pick it up and start browsing it.

My wife scoffed at this, thinking it was a remnant of her mother's control when she was a child. I don’t like this because my wife and I sometimes send text messages to discuss things that don’t involve her mother at all. I don’t think it’s her business at all. So during Christmas, I saw my wife put her mobile phone on the kitchen counter, and I came up with a brilliant idea.

Her mother was still in the kitchen, and I sent my wife the crudest and most nasty text messages about everything I would do to her when everyone left. To be honest, most of these are things we haven't even done, but I had to make it leave extra scars. I sent this text message in the bathroom. Maybe this is my imagination, but I can swear that I could hear a gasp shortly after her phone rang.

When I go out, her mother will never look at me. Then not so cautious, she asked her daughter to come and talk to her in another room. When my wife returned to the living room, I thought she was crying, but on closer inspection, she was laughing. Her mother once asked her about how I "harassed" her and asked me if I always talked to her like that.

My wife once told her kindly that all we did was between us and us. Probably the best gift this Christmas.

Story source: Reddit / can_ducks_give_stds

When I walked to the gate of Los Angeles International Airport, I noticed a lady’s dog doing business in the middle of the waiting area. The woman face to face loudly with her back to the dog, so I don't think she noticed. This was probably the thought of the gentleman who was trying to get her attention. "I'm sorry, miss?" he said in a polite tone.

The woman glared at him. "Your dog," he continued embarrassingly, pointing at the puppy in the stool. The woman rolled her eyes, and when she returned to face the time, the man avoided with an embarrassed look. "Some people," she yelled at her face-to-face companion, without a hint of irony, "it's so rude." When her dog had finished eating, the woman began to walk away, leaving everything on the airport floor. Another woman tried to stop her.

"Aren't you going to clean it up?" she asked, as shocked as the rest of us. "They have someone for this," the criminal replied, disappearing into the crowd, just like someone shouting at their phone can disappear into the crowd. I stood near the pile and warned people to walk around it, while others attracted the attention of maintenance workers.

No one said anything-we were so shocked, anyone can be so scary. When I reached my door, the woman was there. Great, we are all going to Tokyo. When I travel abroad, what other Americans do is a hundred times less embarrassing than leaving animal droppings on the airport floor, which embarrassed me. To make matters worse, her dog is now barking at everyone passing by.

I am not against people flying with their dogs. I do this often. But this is a privilege I take seriously. My dog ​​is well trained and performs better than most people. He certainly performed better than that bastard. Speaking of bastards, there is a pet rescue area at Los Angeles International Airport. After security, there are only two doors from where The Party Pooper lets her dog go to town.

It's ok. She is the kind of person who throws rubbish three feet from an empty trash can. When her dog barked in the world, the lady had changed from being face to face without headphones to listening to music without headphones. I don't like to use the word "anti-social" indiscriminately, but I don't know how I can explain how selfish and terrible she is.

I bet her car was parked somewhere in the long-term parking lot. It was parked in three places. There was paint on the bumper of the child's bicycle she had hit. There was no note left. Others try to ignore her and sit as far away from her as possible. I am no one else. I sit next to that terrible woman. "Are you going to London on business?" I said.

"I'm going to Tokyo," she replied gruffly, angry because I interrupted her DJ. "Oh, I said. Then you better hurry up. That flight moved to gate 53C. This is a flight to London." I think I can give her a little panic in return for how terrible she treats everyone. I didn't expect what would happen next. She grabbed her bag and her dog angrily, and rushed out the door without even checking.

She was too selfish, she didn't notice that the monitor at our door still said Tokyo, and almost everyone at the door was Japanese. Based on her behavior, she believed that I was fighting, so she was a jerk without thanking me. "Some people," I watched her rush out the door, and didn't stop her, I thought, "It's so rude."

The flight to Tokyo is at gate 69A, so 53 gates are on the other side of the next terminal. Knowing that she might have reprimanded some poor staff who had to explain to her that they had no 53C, I felt very guilty. I don't know if she returned to this flight before we took off, but I did not see her boarding pass, nor did I hear her dog's voice.

It was not my original intention that she missed her flight, but she was so rude to everyone that it would be a good punishment to let a low-income stranger clean the stool from the floor. The reason that makes me wonder if I have gone too far is knowing that Delta only has one flight to Tokyo a day. Oops. Maybe she can rebook another airline ticket. I heard that they have people in this area.

I live in New Jersey and we have just experienced a blizzard, so I think I can make money quickly by shoveling the driveway. So I started building a few houses and made about $80 (a good amount of money for me). So I went to this house and the lady said she would give me $50 to shovel her driveway and sidewalk, so I started and ended in about 20 minutes.

I walked to the door and knocked, but she did not open the door. I went to the back door and knocked, but she still did not open the door. Then I saw her looking at me through the window, but she quickly turned around, pretending that nothing happened. At this point, I realized that I was just being tricked into doing a lot of work and I was not getting paid. I started walking home angrily--until it hit me.

I remember that my friend who lived on the street had a snowplow. Let the revenge begin. I borrowed it from him and ran to her house. I opened it and blew up all the snow I shoveled and the snow in her yard. Then she rushed outside and started yelling at me, but I sent the machine back to my friend's house and went home.

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