We all think about getting revenge from time to time. We might have dreamed about delivering someone their just desserts or experienced someone getting even with us. Dreaming of retaliation is one thing, but actually doing it is quite another. Here, we’ll examine tales of people exacting their own retribution in ways that are too personal for many of us to ever consider.
My friend, who I’ll call Janice, shared a remarkable story during our Zoom middle school reunion this week. Every grade in our school was partnered with another, with the exception of kindergarten. For instance, first and second graders were taught together, followed by third and fourth graders.
Students in the seventh and eighth grades took part in a unique activity each year called Toy Team (TT). We were split up into groups and given the assignment of creating a toy that we could sell. Our ideas were judged by local company executives, who gave prizes in categories like Best Research, Best Design, and Best Presentation.
Although the goal of TT was to foster creativity and teamwork, it frequently generated more problems than it was worth, as one student named Carlos (not his real name) showed during my eighth-grade year. Carlos was a true punk in addition to being a math and science whiz. He denigrated everyone and had a group of followers that carried out his orders.
Carlos was untouchable at our exclusive school because of his parents’ generous gifts. There was little the teachers could do to correct him. Before learning Carlos was in our group, my buddy Janice and I were eager to collaborate. Carlos took over right away, controlling us and assigning us secretarial duties while he constructed our toy glider.
I warned Carlos to adjust the glider when I saw a rubber band about to break during one of the glider tests. The band broke, striking Carlos in the face and shattering the glider as he disregarded me. He became enraged with me and said that I was terrible at math and science, which devastated me because I had trouble with those courses because of a learning disability.
My dad consoled me and came up with a plan to discipline Carlos as I sobbed as I raced home. My dad got in touch with Janice’s parents and our teacher, and they agreed. Our teacher, Mrs. Adams, instructed Carlos to work alone going forward, while Janice and I would complete our own project.
We rebuilt the glider in a week under Carol’s leadership. We even improved when our dads helped us proofread our work. Carlos appeared nervous on Presentation Day, despite the fact that his glider looked nice. We discovered after presentations that Carlos had taken our work and passed it off as his own.
Carlos said we provided him our work when he was questioned. But we have a signed contract that showed otherwise. After learning from our dad’s boss that Carlos had failed the project and received his first “D” on his report card, his parents were unable to contest this. Seeing Carlos’s ego crushed was the greatest prize, even if Janice and I took home Best Design.
My mother and my wife, whom she despises, are the subject of another story. My mother once insisted on taking the front seat when we picked her up from the airport. Knowing that the window on the passenger side would not roll up, my wife and I exchanged places in stealth. I was secretly ecstatic when my mom got soaked at the car wash.
And then there’s the story of my father, who grew up in a hard-hitting Rust Belt town. My mom’s beloved Ford Mustang convertible was delivered by my parents to assist my grandparents with their move. They constructed a paint-filled hose underneath the vehicle to protect it. My tall, former military man helped my dad and his pals find the stolen automobile after the leaking paint led them to the thief’s home.
My wife and my mother, who was always challenging, had a lot of arguments. My wife’s sister told me about my mother’s cruel actions prior to our tiny wedding. I embarrassed my mother by bringing pie tins loaded with whipped cream for a surprise pie-throwing game. It was worth it for her to forgo the wedding ceremony, which resulted in months of silence.
Another time, my grandmother planned an inheritance for the family, but my uncle defrauded me of it. He learned a painful lesson about greed when a con artist defrauded him of his newfound money within two weeks.
One of my favorite stories is about a persistent bully who was once a student. I legally but violently tackled him during a hockey practice, which resulted in his transfer to a different team and a much-needed break for me and the other people he mistreated.
Digital kinds of retaliation are also possible; for example, my girlfriend’s dress money was stolen by an ex on an internet marketplace. I gathered proof using social media and the husband’s military affiliation, reported him to his unit, and ultimately had him dismissed from the army for misconduct and racism.
The finest outcomes for dealing with betrayal are frequently achieved by prompt action. I exposed my ex-fiance to her family and friends after learning that she had cheated with a common acquaintance, making sure she was held accountable.
And then there’s Jafar, my awful lounge supervisor. He took advantage of weaknesses and harassed us workers. I began cooking using bacon and pork, which were off limits in his diet, after he kept stealing my food. Even though it wasn’t a complete solution, it was a minor but welcome win.
In the end, seeking retribution is frequently about confronting the wrongs in meaningful and intimate ways rather than always including large actions. These tales all demonstrate the ingenuity and tenacity people employ to uphold justice, even on a modest scale.
These instances of retaliation, whether through meticulous preparation, the use of digital sleuthing, or the creation of a delectably appropriate practical joke, serve as a reminder that sometimes the finest payback is personal.
