Hello! Please read these 6 pro revenge stories and vote each of them, your vote will help me to determine which post(s) will be published on the Tumblr blog. Thanks for your time and help :)
Disrespect me? Get Shut Down and Blacklisted
So I used to work as a waiter at a fairly okay steakhouse around the US. Enjoyed my job, got great satisfaction from making people happy, had regulars who loved me and would only come in to see me (even long after the menu items they originally came for stopped being offered).
Well the company decides that this particular location needs a new General Manager. This is someone who was, as it turns out, fired from his last GM position for toxic behaviours including but not limited to sexual harassment of younger female staff.
A’ight, no big. I can roll with pretty much anything. Mostly because I’m very ‘out’ about being LGBT (specifically the T part) and surround myself with friends and family who are totally cool with that.
GM is an older gentleman, conservatively raised, and incredibly vocal about his personal politics (including, oddly enough, something about there being more trees in north america NOW than there has ever been, and how global warming is good because ‘all those trees need all that carbon dioxide anyway’). Odd fellow, not very well educated, but this is lower-end management at best anyway so what can you expect?
Well, as I’ve said, I was very much ‘out’ at work, and so would, when appropriate, gently remind my coworkers that certain pronouns are maybe… not the best used when referring to me. In reference to the GM, though this fellow would go out of his way to refer to me using an incorrect honorific- american south… Maam and Sir are just things everyone says regardless. It happens, I get that. But twice in every sentence is not an accident. Going out of his way to dig up my ‘dead’ name (the name I used before transition)… also not an accident.
Well, I’d been hearing from other staff that the new GM was being incredibly derogatory towards me when I wasn’t around as well, and decided that the mature thing to do would be to approach him in private and ask him about it. Maybe give him a chance to ask any questions he might have, or at least come to a mutual agreement (preferably one that doesn’t include deliberately-misgendering honorifics).
Turns out he’d rather have that conversation at the front door, while guests of the restaurant are still entering and exiting, despite my repeated requests to talk to him in a more private place.
I bring up my concerns.
Not only are they true, but he’s been frothing at the bit to have this conversation with me, and spends the next solid twenty minutes lecturing me (I barely got in three full sentences- this man also doesn’t know that interrupting is inappropriate in a discussion). He brings up the fact that he has ‘a degree in biology’… yeah so do I, but mine is thirty years more recent than his, guaranteed. He brings up the fact that it’s ‘rude’, ‘childish’, and ‘stupid’ for me to even ask him to consider NOT using the honorific he’s decided is appropriate. He even goes so far to try to explain how chromosomes work to me. ….and.. clearly doesn’t understand at all how chromosomes work. In -any- species, H.sapiens included.
So here’s the revenge part.
I had taken about two weeks off, to be started the next day, in order to visit family in another part of the world for the first time in several years. So I simply went in the next day and told an office full of managers to.. not worry about putting me on the schedule come time. Two weeks off equals two weeks notice. No big. Got to fly the bird (In america, a rude gesture involving the middle finger alone) at GM who was in the office with other managers at the time.
Now that I was no longer employed at company, I was free to speak of my experience without fear of consequence. So I spoke to friends. Spoke to allies. Spoke to legal teams. All about this obvious discrimination and attempted bullying by someone in a position of power, in a part of the United States with very, VERY defined fairness ordinances explicitly in place to prevent LGBT discrimination in a city that is known by the region as being a ‘hub’ for LGBT treatment and opportunity and resources and community.
Friends called HR. Other co-workers contacted me about issues they’d had with the GM in the same vein. I included these (dates, times, names, witnesses, contact information for those who consented) in my own formal report. More friends called HR. And then MORE friends called HR.
So many people called to complain to the restaurants public resources team that they would no longer ever come to said restaurant if this was the kind of behaviour that was accepted as representing the company…. That the company closed the entire location with a week, and the GM has apparently been utterly blacklisted from the restaurant business in the city/county due to this scandal.
Apparently it was more money than it was worth to fight the scandal, and the restaurant chain decided to cut their losses and close the site entirely.
(I would like to add that staff were heftily compensated/transferred/offered opportunities elsewhere and no one was ‘kicked to the curb’ for being an innocent bystander)
But it feels so good to pass by the now derelict building and think to myself “I did that. Frick that guy. That guy was awful.”
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Some kids were bothering me so I pretended to have an asthma fit because of their vaping.
Some context: I’m a senior in highschool. In my school, there isn’t an official school bus. But there’s this public bus that goes by the school after the day ends. I, like many other kids, take this bus because it’s convenient. However, the catch is that the sophomores that also take the bus sit in the back and play music really loud, vape, and make general commotion. This has gone on since the start of my year. I slowly got more pissed to the livestock point that I finally snapped.
Anyways, today I was sick with a cold. I get into the bus and they start playing their music. Great. I sit down, coughing ever so often, getting glances. Then I saw the smoke and smelled cotton candy. At this exact moment, I started to cough, and I realized midcough that I have astma and I could easily fake an asthma fit. I start keeling over, clutching my chest, coughing crazily yet believably. The bus driver starts getting concerned and he asks me if I’m okay. I point to the back of the bus and cry, “They’re vaping and I’m allergic!” He looks back and all the sophomores go silent, one of them still vaping. I add tears for the good measure. The sophomore clique goes into chaos. They start blaming eachother, pushing eachother, etc. I cough even more, covering my mouth. The bus driver chews them out, stops the bus SEVERAL times to check in with me, making them all late. One of them even got off early because he was pissed at his friends for doing that. And here I am, writing this, and grateful those jerks got what they deserve. By the way, if any of you sophomores read this, you know who you are. I won’t be afraid to take even drasticer measures to get your transcripts ruined. It won’t be pretty.
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Bully of a Sister Gets Spicy Brownie
This is a simple story that happened just last week.
My sister has been terrorizing me for the past year. She would pull my hair, make fun of me in front of my friends, and lie to get me in trouble. I’m 17 and she’s 15, yet it seems like she’s a 5 year old.
Just recently, her money got stolen by her snake of a friend. Of course, my sister blames the missing money ($25) on me. She decides to steal my money from my wallet ($23) and says it’s hers. She also threw away some pens I use to lineart with, which honestly just fueled my fire more.
Our father told us to just drop the feud and forgive each other. He was never one to stop our fighting, but I pretend to go along with him. He leaves on that faithful night to go fishing for a few hours down by the beach.
I really enjoy making sweets. Dad really enjoys spicy foods. He has habenero spice in our cabinet.
I decided to make “mug brownies” for my sister and I, as a sort of truce. This, of course, is a whole lie to get revenge on my dear, dear sister.
As I’m mixing the dry ingredients up for my sister’s mug brownie, I slip quite a bit of habenero spice into the mix. I mix the dry ingredients with the wet ingredients and cook the brownie.
Needless to say, she suffered and I laughed. The only con about this was the smell in the bathroom afterward.
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The Attack of the Bake Sale
When I was in highschool, there was this girl named Casey. Casey was your classic high school bully. Spreading rumors, sending embarrassing pictures of you around the school, etc. As the years went on, she kept at it. She was awful.
One day, I found my best friend sobbing in the bathroom. She said that Casey had poured F*CKING GASOLINE INTO HER BACKPACK. Of course I immediately went to the office and reported Casey. But all I got was “girls do things sometimes.” Casey did this s*it everyday! And so a revenge plan was hatched…
I gathered as many of Casey’s victims as possible and we all met at my house. All of these girls streets crying about what Casey did. One girl, who was a freshman, said that Casey had stolen her clothes when she was in gym. Another girl said that Casey had covered her locker with clear glue. It needed to stop. So we all decided to start having a daily bake sale after school. (The school gave us permission, but we did have to give them a percentage of the money) Not only was it a good way to make money, bit out gave the perfect opportunity for revenge.
Since there were 17 of us, we took turns supplying treats for the bake sale. Now it was no secret that Casey liked sweets. And by the end of the first week she was already a regular customer. As painful as it was, we put on smiles and treated her just like our other customers. Then, after a few weeks, we announced that one of our customers would win a gift basket. Everyone went crazy and started buying all of our stuff, but we already had a winner in mind.
In the basket we put chocolate with laxatives in it and shampoo and conditioner filled with hair removal. Then, the day came. We announced Casey as the winner and overjoyed, she took the basket and went on her marry way. BUT IT GETS BETTER. That night her and all of her rich snooty friends had a sleepover AND THEY ALL ATE THE CHOCOLATE AND USED THE SHAMPOO. AND THE NEXT WEEK NONE OF THEM WERE AT SCHOOL AND THEN THEY CAME BACK AND THEY WERE WEARING WIGS. AND THIS LITTLE FRESHMAN BOY BUMPED INTO CASEY AND HER WIG FELL OFF AND EVERYONE CHEERED. SHE LEFT THE SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY.
And after that, we continued to have the bake sale and we made a f*uckton of money. Win win!
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Girl who bullied me and my friends for five years isn’t coming back for a semester
long. (tl;dr at the end)
When I was in third grade, a started going to a private school. I had just moved to Atlanta two years before, and was going to a public school, which I hated. I had never made any friends on my own before, so it took a while to adjust, but I loved my new school.
In late august, my mother told me about someone she met at a party whose daughter had invited me to go swimming with her at a nearby country club. I was super excited, and her daughter was in my class, so I talked to her the next day. (I’ll call her Z) During recess, she introduced me to her two best friends, both of which became mine. (I’m still friends with one today, but I’m not sure where the other is now.)
When we went swimming, I met her two little brothers. They were as annoying as litter brothers can be, and splashed us endlessly. I didn’t really mind, but Z was screaming and hitting them for messing with us. I didn’t think much of it, and I proposed we all play a game so they would be included. She stormed off to get something to eat, so I, not knowing my way around the club, stated in the pool to talk to her brothers. Out of nowhere, she jumped in the water behind me and pushed me under. When I came up, she jumped on me and did it again. I didn’t think much of this either, because my little sisters did the same thing, but she was so much heavier than me.
I stayed friends with her, but the abuse didn’t stop there. For the next two years, out of nowhere, she would punch me, kick me, scratch me, and on a few occasions even head butt me. Every time I said stop, she’d stop, and go back to how she was before. She was almost bipolar. Since she’d always stop, I didn’t tell any teachers. I didn’t want to bother them.
In fourth grade, she came over to my house. We were playing on the wii, and my youngest sister (5) asked if she could play. I said she couldn’t, because we only had two remotes, but when she said please, Z started screaming and chasing her. I hid under my covers. I had no idea what to do. I stayed there for a while, and didn’t hear anything but the sound of a hard slap and my sister screaming. My mom heard the screaming and ran upstairs. Z was calmly playing the wii by herself. My sister told my mom what happened, and she started yelling at Z. I was still under my covers, but I could hear it. Z started crying, and my mom apologized for yelling and told her it was only because she thought of her as one of her own children. I don’t remember what happened after that. I guess I wanted to forget so much, I did.
In fifth grade, I came done with scratches on my arm, and my mom asked me where I got them from. I casually told her it was Z, and that she did this all the time, but she wasn’t mad at me. My mom told me to tell a teacher if it ever happened again.
I told the coordinator about it, and we had a meeting with her, and it was agony. Z was crying. She said she didn’t know she was hurting me, and I immediately forgave her.
I learned later that she did the same thing to other kids in my grade.
In seventh grade, we were both at a new school, the best one in the state. It was easy for her to get in because her parent went and were benefactors. Not to mention her grandparent wrote a bunch of letters. My parents didn’t go to school in Atlanta, so I was all on my own (I sound bitter, and I am, but it’s true).
When school started, I decided we were going to have a fresh start. I was super nice to her, introduced her to new friends, and went to and from PE with her. She hated PE. She would cry almost every class. She was also furious that her teachers wouldn’t let her knit in class (???) and that she wasn’t allowed to wear hats. But I was still nice to her. I knew she wouldn’t treat me like she did at our old school.
I was wrong again.
In October, it started again. She was hitting me. She was kicking me under the table. I’m my birthday, she shoved one of our friends into me so I’d hit my head on the door frame. In November, I was standing at the bottom of a steep hill, talking to someone who went to public school with me. She was at the top, and was sliding down to knock over people walking up. My back was turned. She slid down really fast, kicked my legs out from under me, and I fell back and hit my head on something hard. I had a concussion. I was out for a week, and almost missed exams. I had terrible headaches for the next two months.
When I was in the nurses’ office, the dean of girls came in and started asking me what happened. I couldn’t really remember, but I knew it was Z. I told her over and over again that it was an accident, but I don’t know if she believed me.
There was more and more abuse. When I finally told my grade chair in April, she told me to tell her to stop. (This was by far everyone’s least favorite grade chair. I hated her.) I came back and told her everything Z had done to me. The grade chair brought me to my second least favorite person, who was 4’10 and had a voice higher than Snoop. They brought Z in and I had to confront her. They kept saying that “we don’t want anybody to get in trouble.” I was telling them about some of the times she hurt me, and Z tried to blame it on ME. “I didn’t want to give her a concussion. I just wanted to knock her over, but she wasn’t paying attention.”
They didn’t do anything. They made me apologize to her, and sent me to class. I was furious.
Eighth grade comes and I have new friends. I chose to be nice to everyone this year and to avoid Z at all costs. Little do I know she has another punching bag. One of my best friends was not only being beaten, but Z was threatening her, following us around, and watching her. She was terrified. This time, it was my friend’s dad that came forward, and Z was no longer allowed to speak to her. Z still followed me around, but I ignored her.
At our winter dance, I was talking to a boy the entire time, so Z was following my friend again. She started threatening her again, and was suspended
For the rest of the semester.
In February, she left. Z is coming back next year, but my friend is going to a different school.
I sometimes see Z. Her house is on my way to mine from school. She has her hair cut a little past her ears and covered by a knit beret in a gross color of grayish-green. She always wears a cardigan with a skull on the back. Super edgy, I know. All of her social media accounts are called something cringey and emo too. She still talks to me online, and I don’t really mind, as long as she can’t touch me.
TL;DR:
A girl who beat me on and off for five and a half years has been suspended twice and isn’t coming back until freshman year. Boy, has she downgraded.
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Orthodontist Fiasco Gets Fixed
just a heads up, this is gonna get really long
so I’ve always had a problem with my teeth. I have a really bad overbite that pushed apart my two front teeth so wide you could drive a truck through them. It was so bad that I was recommended to get braces as soon as my baby teeth all fell out. So by the time I was 12 I went to an orthodontist that my mom’s friend had spoke well of. The dentist and his staff were pleasant and did their job efficiently. By the time I was 15 (near 16) I got the green light to have my braces removed.
My parents were willing to pay for everything up front. They wanted my teeth to be right. Neither of my parents were able to have much quality work on their teeth when they were my age and they sincerely regretted it. They didn’t want me to be like that.
Anyone who has ever had braces and the subsequent retainers know what’s coming next. The dreaded impressions. Only it wasn’t that bad because the hygienist seemed to understand the basic idea of displacement and just put enough putty in the mold that it was only mildly uncomfortable. During the time that I was getting my retainers set up, the dentist who I had originally started going to was slowly transitioning his practice over to another guy, who we’ll call Dr. Bluff.
Dr. Bluff was very nice and friendly, more so than the original guy. I liked him.
Fast forward about 3 years to now, when I’m 19 and my retainer breaks. It was the bottom one and because of my overbite it threw off the whole system. However, we decided to wait until our next regular dentist appointment to ask what we should do about it. And then we had to push that appointment back because we got sick.
I reasoned that our regular dentist would tell us to just go back to the orthodontist who did the retainer originally and set up an appointment there. We go there (I mean me & my mom since I’m living at home and she’s retired so she can traipse around with me wherever) and as soon as I walk in the office I know in the pit of my stomach something was not going to go right today.
I go back and the hygienist takes a look at my front teeth (which had the gap between them again *SIGH*) and she said 1) she’ll need to take new impressions for my retainer and 2) that Dr. Bluff might want to close the gap before I get my new retainer. I ask her if we should hold off on the impression until after Dr. Bluff has seen it and we make a decision so we don’t waste an impression. She just shrugs and puts the impression tray in my mouth.
Now the thing that should be noted about this particular orthodontist office is that the general treatment area is a big room in the back comprised of five dentists chairs in a semicircle. There is no privacy.
The second she presses the putty against my teeth, it goes down my mouth towards my throat and I start gagging. I’m crying and gagging in the chair and she’s trying to keep me still. After five minutes of hell she finally pulls it out and sends me (and my mouth full of leftover putty bits) over to the communal sink to clean up while i’m embarrassed to hell and blushing like a priest at an orgy.
so i try to mask my light crying and get my mom to come into the back & talk about options on how we’re going to close my front teeth gap. We come up with a solution but it’s going to take two weeks of temporary braces and then another impression for the top. I look at the hygienist, who somehow had the absolute balls to look unfazed.
On the ride home I explain to my mom what happened and she said that she has the same problem re: gag reflex. She said that general dentist work is hell because of it. She tells me to mention it next time. I agreed and added that I would ask the next hygienist to put less putty in the tray so the displaced putty doesn’t trigger my gag reflex. We nod and decide that this is our game plan.
Cut to two weeks later to the day from hell. I had to wake up super early to help my mom take my grandmother to the doctor and after we got that sorted, mom and I went to the orthodontist to get the temp braces taken off and the new impressions done. I wait 30 mins to get called back and then another 15 mins to finally have someone come over and do something. Dr. Bluff takes off the temp braces, grinding the glue off my teeth. Only, as he’s grinding, it’s like he’s oblivious to my very loud grunts of pain. It hurts and it smells and all the debris is either going right up my nose or all over my glasses.
After he’s done I get a reprieve and clean the taste out of my mouth. Back to the chair. I look around and see that they’ve filled all of the other 4 chairs. Oh boy.
So I talk to hygienist that I have a bad gag reflex and I ask her if she could fill the tray not as full because the over-flow/displaced putty/whatever sets off my gag reflex. I joke (but kind of not) that the last thing I wanted to do that morning was throw up on them.
Then Dr. Bluff starts making jokes about previous patients who had puked in the chair. And look, I know that when your job is working in someone’s mouth, puking is going to happen, but at the rate he was mentioning? That’s bad. That’s really bad. That means that there is some fundamentally wrong with what you’re doing.
Impression time! Because I had mentioned gagging and puking they had the tiniest puke bowl known to man under my chin the second the tray went into my mouth. They did this because apparently the hygienist didn’t hear a word I said and filled the tray as full as she could.
The very second she applied pressure to the tray caused the displaced putty to flow out of the tray, down the roof of my mouth, and down my throat. It cut off my fucking air supply. I couldn’t breathe. I was gagging and crying and sobbing and screaming (as well as one can when they can’t breathe). I’m about half a second from blacking out when they finally take the tray out of my mouth- only to have the overflow piece BREAK OFF AND LODGE IN MY THROAT. Cue another five minutes of gagging and crying as they blankly stare at me, trying to figure out what my problem was.
I finally cough it up and they send me over to the sink to clean up. I’m straight up crying and my cheeks are redder than hell and I can feel the other patients’ eyes on me like goddamn bullets in my shoulders. As soon as I can get out of that room I do.
I put on my sunglasses to cover my cry-swollen eyes. The second I walk into the waiting room, my mom knows that something is wrong. I try to hustle the secretaries through making an appointment for the next day to pick up my retainer and I feel like i’m about to die. Mom doesn’t question me because she senses that I Do Not Want To Talk About It Right Here.
So we go down the steps and into the lobby (it’s a second-floor office in a communal building) and before we could even make it to the front door I break down crying. I was fucking hysterical. I was shaking so had my mom couldn’t get a firm grip on me so she could hug me. She makes me take half of a nerve pill which she keeps on her in case of panic/anxiety/nerve attacks. I’m in such a bad state that I can’t drive and I burst into crying fits the entire ride home.
So we get home and the pill’s started to kick in. I’m still really shaken and upset but I’m not literally shaking or sobbing uncontrollably. So I sit and watch some funny videos to calm myself down before I begin to hatch my plan.
I looked up Dr. Bluff and his office on google and on every link on the first two pages of google that had a review function I left a 1-star reviewing detailing my experience. I ended them all by saying that the only reason i would ever go back would be to get my pre-paid retainer and that I was absolutely terrified that I would die in that office.
I sincerely was. I still am.
Anyway. A few hours later, i get a call. IT’S DR. BLUFF AND HE WANTS TO TALK TO ME. He says that he heard that I “didn’t have a good experience today.” He gave a few excuses, tripping over himself to not actually apologize for anything, and then offered to comp the cost of my retainer (which was up to $300 that we paid since we don’t have dental insurance). He only asked that I take down the review (he had only seen one).
But the next day, it got better. We were running like ten minutes late to the appointment and I was freaking the whole time. The second we signed in we got called back. Dr. Bluff invited us into his office and invited us to sit down (we didn’t). He apologized without somehow managing to properly apologize but in the end he comped the cost of my retainer, offer to have a 3D model of my teeth made & shipped to us for future reference FOR FREE, and asked if he could use my review (all versions of which I had since taken down but he had actually saved) for training purposes. I agreed. Mom also made a point of reminding him that he had a lot of younger kids who came through his office and weren’t used to dental work like I was.
To put it in my mother’s words, he was eating crow.
So now, about two weeks later, I’m sitting here with my retainer in my mouth and a dull but persistent ache in my shoulder thanks to the thrashing & gagging that their shitty impression made me do. I actually had to miss a day of work because of the pain. But personally, I think that in end it balanced out.
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