Have you ever had really delicious revenge?

In My Humble Opinion
21

I had one like that. It’s not that I didn’t like the guy, but what he said WAS pretty mean.

We were coming down to the short strokes on our North Pole run aboard my submarine. IIRC, on this day we were in the waning minutes of a field day, milling about in AMR2(UL), shooting tje shit about our plans for when we returned to port in Pearl Harbor.

I mentioned how happy I was about the fact that I had leave approved, and a plane ticket bought, to go to California and get married. The Bull Nuke, a MMCM known as Iron Mike, 5.4" of crusty confidence, competence, and experience, decided to razz me. “YOU’RE getting married, Brown? Man, she must be blind!”

“She is, Master Chief; how did you know?” was all I needed to say. To tell the truth, I felt kind oof bad for him (as he began to shrink even smaller than he had started out).

22

Uhhh, make that 5’4", not 5.4" :o

23

When we moved in our current apartment, the former tenant - who’d had trouble paying her electricity and gas bills - tried to scam us and have some of these transfered to our name. It didn’t work.

Moreover, when we arrived, we realized that she hadn’t quite finished moving. She’d left pieces of furniture in the hall. As soon as I left our new home later that day, one of the neighbours threw her door open and asked angrily when I was going to put this stuff in my flat because I could not leave it there. I told her that it was not “my stuff” and that the former tenant was supposed to come back and get it “soon”. The neighbour contemptuously whispered “Oh, her.” I guess she wasn’t well liked. Still, I was pissed off. Our relationship with the neighbours wasn’t starting very well.

She did come back that day and took what was in the hall. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother clearing the cellar. It was half-filled with junk. The only valuable thing was a nice mountain bike. We called her several times to ask her when she was going to come and get it. She never answered our calls.

Months passed. We didn’t want to throw her stuff away but since we needed the cellar, we started piling our things on top of hers.

Two and and a half years later someone rang our bell. It was her. She was demanding to have her bike back “right now”. I said: “Look. It’s been more than two years. It’s Sunday 6pm. You didn’t tell us you were coming. My wife is pregnant and was asleep when you rang. You’re not welcome and I’m not opening the door. Call us so that we can agree on a time for you to get it. Goodbye.” She was furious. She called the landlord (!) to complain that we were trying to steal her bike. He didn’t believe her but still had to call us to see what was up (he didn’t seem to have a good opinion of her either).

She came back the following week (we had agreed on a day so it was fine this time). I led her to the cellar, opened the door then moved out of the way. She stood motionless in front of the door, her mouth wide open. There was her bike, at the bottom of a 6 foot high heap of boxes and stuff. The tyres were torn, the handlebar bent. She slowly started moving my boxes the get to it. At first, I was just observing her and had a hard time trying not to laugh but then I started helping her. She took her bike and left in silence. We haven’t heard from her since. Good riddance.

24

The Thesis Director who decided he could steal the research of his graduate students and postpone our PhDs forever because we were just “fucking foreigners” now teaches at a CC back in his home town, rather than at one of the most-moneyed universities in the world.

The article which does bear my name still is his best publication, and will forever remain so.

Meanwhile, I’ve ended up living the crazy life I wanted to live, have worked in more countries than I would have believed possible back then, and well, yeah… that’s still my best (and only) published article but hey, many people in that field never get to publish in that one journal.

sandra_nz, I’ve done similar things to several people. It’s always interesting, both the assumptions people make and the looks in their faces when you give that kind of answer.

25

It works either way.

26

Another manager and I got laid off at the same time as a cost-cutting measure. The boss was a real prick about it, doing it on a Friday afternoon and locking us out of our computers, which meant we couldn’t clean up or organize files before leaving. Then he left to avoid any confrontations. He was prick all along, but this was really dickish on his part.

Part of his motivation was to increase his own paycheck when the performance bonus money came in from the Air Force, who we were contracted to. Sadly for him, we were both entitled to our share, since we hadn’t been fired for cause. We both sent letters about six months later, demanding a check. I heard from a friend who worked there that he was absolutely furious about it and called headquarters to try to wiggle out from under the obligation. HQ’s lawyer told him to pay up and each of us got a check for $9,000. Fuck you, asshole.

27

One of our tenants insisted on storing some of her stuff in the basement, despite the fact that her lease stated she did not have use of the basement. “It’s not hurting anyone” was her great defense.

When the remants of hurrican Katrinia hit and flooded the basement, she asked us to have our insurance cover her losses. We refused and she took us to court.

Guee who won :slight_smile:

28

Revenge is like serving cold cuts.
-Tony Soprano

29

No. I have always subscribed to “bide your time and your enemies will be carries past your door.”

Regrettably, I am still waiting for the parade. :wink:

30

So this is either total bullshit or you’re admitting to committing a felony.

31

I never have but wanted to when my neighbor stole my bonsai trees and destryed them. Karma took care of it for me. I have never been so mad in my life and was afraid once I started I would end up in prison.

32

I’m calling BS on this story.

33

These are pretty minor and hark back to my college days, but they were satisfying at the time.

Background: On our dorm floor there was a culture of pranks and practical jokes. My first week there about five upperclassmen popped into my room, exchanged pleasantries, and then each grabbed something of mine and ran out to put it somewhere – the fire escape, the balcony outside the window, a shower stall (one bathroom for the whole floor), the staircase, etc. As I scurried to get one item, the rest of the guys went back and took something else. They emptied my room in five minutes; it took me over half an hour to find and retrieve it all. This was my introduction to what we called ballbusting. A particularly popular thing was to snatch a guy’s mattress and hide it somewhere. We learned to always lock our doors when out of the room, even if we were only ten feet away down the hall. Those who couldn’t roll with this were considered wimpy.

One weekend my girlfriend flew out to visit me. We had just settled in to bed on the first night when there was loud knocking at my door and frantic calling of my name. I got the door and no one was there, but I knew who it was from the voice. Two minutes later more pounding at the door, I opened it, no one there. After the third time I ignored the disruption (which continued for a while), but the mood has been spoiled some and I wasn’t happy.

A few weeks later this fellow (“Joe”) had his girlfriend visiting for the weekend. I made a sign that says “Fellas – my girlfriend is staying with me so please don’t bust my balls – Joe” and put it on his door. Of course this was a more potent invitation than a “kick me” sign. I went down to the other end of the hall, sat in front of my room, and watched five guys give him hell for hours. They even drilled a little hole in his door! :eek:

Another guy on the floor was known as “King of the Ballbusters.” You had to be really careful around him to avoid getting pranked, and he was very careful not to be vulnerable. Usually.

One night I was in my room and heard his door close followed by his footsteps heading to the bathroom. What I didn’t hear was his lock clicking. After I heard the bathroom door open and close, I zipped out of my room (locking the door, of course) and went to his room. It was unlocked. Time was short, so I went in, grabbed his mattress and stuffed it into his closet, then returned to my room. A minute later he returned to his room then came right to mine (I had a bit of a reputation as well) saying “where’s my mattress?” I professed ignorance.

He spent twenty minutes looking all over the dorm for his mattress, growing increasingly frustrated, and finally gave up because his buddies were waiting for him to go out somewhere. He opened his closet door to grab a jacket…

He yelled my name loud enough to rattle the halls. :smiley:

34

I heard a snippet of a story on NPR about a couple of weeks ago that had the exact same broad details. I can’t recall the name of the game or the speaker, but I think the program was probably Fresh Air with Terry Gross. Aired late evening in Houston.

I started getting that feeling of familiarity as soon as I started reading and it got confirmed by the end. Weird!!

35

Are you thinking of the recent story on This American Life about the guy who played Diplomacy, and then got an actual respected real-life diplomat to advise him at the international Diplomacy championships?

36

I once unintentionally got my revenge on this total bitch of a clinician when I was in vet school. She’d make snide remarks like “do you even know what you’re talking about?” and the like.

Shortly before graduation, we were both at a party. Somebody brought this really nasty potato dish; it was so terrible I couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be. I was remarking to the people around me how terrible it was. This bitch was right nearby, and it turned out she was the one who made it!

37

I had a girlfriend 20 odd years ago when I was at college who treated me very badly: slept around, confessed to it, I took her back and she did it again so I left, hating her so badly I could taste it: seriously, I used to fantasise about burning down her house. Anyway, I got on with my life, graduated, travelled, married, had kids, the usual things.

Fast forward to late last year, when I ran into her again quite by chance, and it turned out all the hate had evaporated and I mostly just felt sorry for her. While I’d been out working to put something positive together around myself, she’d mostly just carried on with her same old pattern of flitting from guy to guy, alienating people and then moving on, until she’d gotten too old for it and had had to settle for being a paid “housekeeper” for a half-blind diabetic guy in his 70s. Happiness is the best revenge, I guess.

38

Not quite sure. The story revolved around how this guy was invited to a country house that was owned by a wealthy couple and filled with scores of people playing the same game.

And that is where this “incident” happened.

39

Last time I spoke to my husband before the divorce hearing, I let him know that I knew the secret he’d kept from me. He went so pale I thought I’d need to call 911. I still savor that moment.

40

From my military days, about 30+ years ago now. I wasn’t seeking revenge, it just worked out that way.

I was young, early in my career, an E-3 (Lance Corporal) in the Marines. I’d just checked into a new unit, transferring from ANGLICO to artillery and it was my very first day there, and we were loading up to head out to the field for a while. My section chief was a loud-mouthed Sergeant who liked to yell a lot, liked to hear the sound of his ‘command voice’ booming out orders to us left and right.

Trouble is, we didn’t need orders, we knew what needed to be done and we were doing it, post-haste. He just liked to hear himself yell. Made himself feel important. For purposes of this story, let’s call him Sgt. YellsAlot. I remember his real name, first name too, but I won’t say it in the clear (but it was HQ 1/14 in the early 1980s - do you remember this night, [John M](Sgt. John Morsehead)? I bet you do).

I was in the Survey section back then, and there was this huge survey chest, about as big as a coffin and pretty heavy, about 300 pounds. I was strong in my younger days, and being new and a young hard-charger, wanted to impress my new mates. So me and this other guy, a large Marine himself, we both pick it up, he at one end and me at the other. It’s heavy, but we’re managing it. Others are asking if we need help, but we tell them we’re okay. But it’s heavy.

We’re carrying this heavy chest, and Sgt. YellsAlot is barking orders all over the place. But you could tell his brain was getting overloaded because there was a lot more going on than his brain housing group could process. You could hear it in his starting-to-quiver voice. Standing nearby him, carrying the heavy survey chest and already tired of his yelling, I asked,

“Sgt. YellsAlot, where do we put this?”

Brain circuits overloaded, you could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears. He didn’t know the answer, and so he barks in the best command voice he could muster,

“Just drop it, Marine!”

Literally - I did. I dropped my end. I just let go. I knew that wasn’t a friendly thing to do to the other guy holding the other end, but he was big, bigger than me, and he could handle it. And besides, I was tired of listening to this blow-hard yell. My end hit the deck, and then the other end followed about a half second later.

Unbeknownst to me, Sgt. YellsAlot’s foot was directly beneath the chest. It landed square on his foot. OUCH.

He could barely walk, he got carted off to the corpsman’s office. I swear I didn’t know his foot was there. About 2 hours later we’re all loaded up, the trucks are ready to go, and we’re standing in formation and waiting to head out. Sgt. YellsAlot shows up on crutches, his foot in a cast - broken. It’ll take 6+ weeks to heal.

After Sgt. YellsAlot hobbles away, someone else in the survey section says to me, “Hey Bullitt (okay, he used my real last name), man I don’t know you but I like you already!”

It turns out I did impress my new mates. :smiley:

Like I said, I wasn’t seeking revenge, it just kinda worked out that way. And it was pretty sweet.