rSlash - r/Prorevenge How I Got Revenge Against a Restaurant Karen

Episode Date: January 3, 2026

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Welcome to R slash Pro Revenge, where OP nearly kills a man. Our next Reddit post is from Ask a Task. When I was a young man of just 18, I got a job in the Canadian oil patch. It was my first real job. It was the early 2000s, and this paid $20 an hour with no experience or education required. Minimum wage was under $6. The job was called well testing. Basically, you hook up a closed pressure tank and flare stack to new oil and gas wells,

then flow them and gather data for the oil barrens. It's hard work setting up and tearing down, but the rest is recording gauges and computer work. Not bad for a first job, except for effing Gary. The job was two men working together for 12 hours, or four men working together for 24 hours. One laborer and one supervisor a shift.

I was paired with a mean-spirited alcoholic in his mid-50s named Gary. He was overweight and lazy, only helping with things too heavy to lift on my own, like 250-pound pipes. He spent his days in the trailer for the most part anyway, watching DVDs, napping, and hourly typing a bit of data into a PC. He also liked picking on me with jokes, read, insults. I'm not a small man, about 6'1 in heels. He was noticeably smaller, yet, while not physically intimidated,

back then I lacked the confidence and I did have a baby face. I got called stupid a lot. When he found out that I had never used a power drill, he asked me, Didn't your dad teach you anything? I made the error of telling him my dad was only in my life a handful of years. The next time I made a mistake, Gary quipped, No wonder your dad walked out on you. I did call him out on that.

And like every other butthole alive, he would tell me that I couldn't take a joke. We always worked far out of town in the country. I often had to eat dinner with him in small town restaurants, mostly bars if we could help it. He drank a lot, and he could actually be personable when he wasn't at work and when he was at least two drinks deep. He didn't stop and drink every night. It quickly became the case that I drove us to work in his truck. He was compensated $1 per kilometer, and we would drive like 100 to 350 kilometers per day, every day for weeks. I got minimum wage for travel time. He was hung over most mornings, didn't want to drive, and told me he was boss.

He slept like a gin-blooded corpse until we got to work. My first step in the quest for vengeance was remembering that it's impossible to defeat evil with the power of love. So instead I use the power of terror. One night, while out of town on a job during dinner, I mentioned to Gary that it's pretty lame he sleeps most of the time while I drive his truck and he gets paid. Maybe he ought to kick a few bucks my way for the efforts. He didn't like my suggestion to be generous. The last hinge must have crumbled, because he became unglued. More verbal abuse, and I was young. It actually reduced me to angry tears. When he threatened my job, it was a bad feeling. So I resolved to at least get away from him.

I wanted to go home, but I had the opportunity for revenge the next morning. Gary was once again in his travel coma, and I drove us to work. About 30 kilometers from our work site, on the side of the highway on a pullout was a semi-truck. As luck would have it, it was running, and the trucker outside of his rig. I quickly formulated a plan. Gary always needed to be woken up with intent, so he didn't stir when I stopped. I got out and I asked the friendly driver for a favor. The trucker man agreed to my terms and got back in his semi to await the signal. Gary, blissfully sleeping off the last of his nightly whiskey, also failed to notice when I maneuvered his truck. Parking it, we were nearly bumper-to-bumper facing the big, beautiful Peterbilt, which if you don't know is the brand name of an

18-wheeler manufacturer. I lit the beacon. The truckers of Rohan answered with their own headlights. Like the horn of Helm Hammerhand sounding in the deep, the trucker hit his air horn with amazing commitment to instilling fear. I did my part by honking Gary's truck gleefully in respite and screaming my butt off. I cried bloody murder at blast level and yelled, No, we're gonna die! Striking like a battalion of bombers singing a chorus of fire. the glorious cacophony lasted less than a minute. When it hit him, Gary dented the ceiling. Good thing he's thick as cement or that mighta hurt.

He literally messed his pants. The wonderful sounds of him howling quickly transformed into pure rage. When he came to terms with what I'd done, he couldn't correctly choke out his death threats. I reversed the car, peeled off before he decided to get out to make good, and gave the trucker a wave. I got about 10 kilometers down the road when Gary felt the need to tell me that he had dangerously high blood pressure, and I could have killed him with a stroke.

About four years later, I went to paramedic school, so yeah, in hindsight, I agree with his assessment. I started laughing and told him he should probably calm down. I said, Can't you take a joke? He kept making incomplete threats, and I just couldn't stop laughing. And it got even funnier when he wouldn't shut up. I love ugly laughing at angry people. I was a hyena. He was fighting the urge to kill me and the desire to not stroke out simultaneously. The struggle was real. It took about 20 minutes more to get to the site. Our back and forth continued the whole time. I even asked him if that was his normal shade of red. When we arrived, he ordered me to get out, said that I was fired, then stomped off to call the company owner. Nah, whatever. I hit intermittent chuckles and smoked cigarettes while savoring my

fieric victory for the four hours that took the company owner to come pick me up. Turns out, Gary wanted to involve the cops for attempted murder, but the boss dissuaded him. Gary told one hell of a tale that left me looking like Satan. So I told the big boss all about the necessity of Gary's punishment on the way back to the city. My boss had a good chuckle about it. He was actually a decent guy. I worked for him until I went back to school. I got moved to a different crew where I could be the lone sociopath. That's about it.

I did get some street cred with the rest of the boys of the company. Our next Reddit post is from Little Bitty Pretty One. Once upon the before time in 2015, I worked my way through nursing school as a waitress in a restaurant. The restaurant did not advertise. They prided themselves on word of mouth for their popularity. This is important. I had been there for several months at this point and had proved myself reliable and knowledgeable enough to help train new waiters. I wasn't technically a trainer, but I could be

relied upon to support new workers once the trainer set them loose. We had one older guy who had just been released. He was a little awkward, a little shy, and worried about mistakes. Absolutely expected, and he was great to work with. On the night of our tail, he was in the section next to mine, easy to keep an eye on, and easy to hop in and prop him up when he hit the weeds. This was his first night with his own complete section, so weeds would abound. and I was ready. What he wasn't ready for was his first demanding roundtable of about six people, a bunch of 20-somethings with attitude. My co-worker came to me worried and confused. They want such and such, but I don't think that's on our menu, right? She says that we have the ingredients and to just make it,

that the other location makes it all the time. Yeah, I could have taught him to stand his ground, but nerves the first night with your own section isn't the time for this to go over well. So I told him to ask the back line and see if they were willing. If not, I would talk to the table. The cooks were fine with it, so no problem from our end. This was apparently the cue for the leader of the table to demand something every time he came to the table. As soon as my coworker brought the last requested item, she needed something else. I thought it was possible, and I'd been keeping an eye on him. Seeing his panicked face, I gave him a nod and started checking out on his other tables, slotting them into my own table cycles. That was the reason I was paired with him.

This carried on for their entire meal. They were incredibly needy and demanding his full attention with zero apology or kindness. I made sure to catch him in the back to prepare for possibly getting no tip, but to calm the panic and to remind him I would not be touching the tips from his other tables. Honestly, the poor guy looked like he was about to quit on the spot. The leader of the table was rude and impatient and gave him no space to breathe. I was his emotional support animal at this point, but knowing he was twice my age made it even worse for him. The table had come in close to the end of the night and ended up staying past our section's closing. So they were the last table on our side of the restaurant. That's when he came to me asking how to do an employee discount.

And they wanted to use more than one on a single ticket. Was that okay? I was confused. Wait, employee? That's when he shared that the leader of the table had spent the entire meal berating and making fun of my co-worker because, one, she was a trainer at our other location, and two, he was the worst waiter that she had ever seen. No wonder the other location made her special meals. And zero surprise he was such a wreck. On top of that, she was claiming there were multiple birthdays in the group, so free cakes all around, and she wants the birthday song immediately. To say that I was livid is like saying lava is warm. I was ready to throw hands for this poor man.

Instead, I told him to prep the kegs, but don't go out yet. I would talk to the boss about the employee discount, and I would gather the workers for the birthday song. The managers there were absolutely amazing. We loved each one, and all of them had our backs. That is very rare in restaurants, so this was almost the best part. I gave the front end boss a quick rundown of the table's antics. Remember that word of mouth restaurant mentality? Yeah, the boss was not having a restaurant employee acting so cruelly, even if she wasn't his employee. I asked permission for what I wanted to do. He smiled and gave permission as he grabbed the employee's numbers given for the discounts, and he told me that he had a boss-to-boss phone call to make. I then ran to every employee I could

grab and gave them each the fastest explanation of the table and the plan. And then I told the poor nerve-racked server that we were ready to drop the cakes. The crowd that arrived to that six-person table was honestly the largest we've ever had for a birthday song. And I'm pretty confident the largest the restaurant will ever have. We served free cakes in front of every seat. And the leader had the most self-satisfied smirk as we all grinned ecstatically and lined up to sing. And oh, did we sing the birthday song as loud as possible. Please do recall they were the last. They were the last table in the section, and for your imagination, I should mention the table was in the corner as well. So while we were screaming the birthday song, it was bouncing back from that corner

as well, and it was excruciatingly long. Their smiles dropped immediately, and hands covered their ears as they jumped with the audio onslaught. I know it hurt my ears, and that pain is something that still makes me smile to this day. We all stood there, giant group, happily screaming our restaurant's special happy birthday song, and it still warms my heart a decade later. More than that, while we were gathering and planning and destroying eardrums, our boss was making phone calls in the office. Yes, he called her restaurant manager and informed them of her behavior. And no, she didn't get stacked employee discounts. She didn't get discounts at all. I know because I was there when she handed the phone for my front-end manager at the host desk, and when she started to cry. And

tried to make her excuses for why she shouldn't be fired. But the general manager had already been called. Her employee number had been shared, and she was done. I'm that psychic. She could have gone back to her home location and convinced someone to hire her back. Anything is possible. But I know how she treated this poor guy. I know how I told the tale to my boss. And I know the quiet rage he so rarely touched when it was rage. I would have almost given up and joining in that screaming song to be able to hear those phone calls. Almost. Her next Reddit post is from Candid Umpire. This story took place in the early days of the interwibs, the autumn of 1999, when HTML-coded chats became very popular. For the youngens, these spaces would be considered a pinnacle of free

online speech today, as they were 100% unmoderated, and they didn't log any personal data or require that you registered an account. It was extremely basic to use, as you just had to write what or session screen name was, and that was it. So anyone who wanted to be a creep, abusive, or toxic could do this without any real-life consequences, which led to a lot of unwanted contacts. Their emmo was basically to use the whisper function, especially girls and young women were targeted, and although these chats didn't support any images, it was pretty common to exchange email addresses to keep in touch. So, lo and behold, a low pixel dick pick was received. So, At the time, I was a 20-year-old guy, and my then-girlfriend was 21.

My girlfriend was one of the first members in our online community and was a well-known user in the chat for being really tough and creative when dealing with creeps. A standing joke was that she was more evil than the devil. The creep in question, Farmer Bob, was one of the creeps who was a bit slippery. He managed to become a member of our group without any of us suspecting a thing. His creepiness was very low-key, and only after some of the younger members started to report getting emails and unwinned messages, did me and my girlfriend decide to act? We started out by my girlfriend pretending to be a naive and new user, and we managed to get him

interested. After some back and forth, we managed to get some basic info about him and even some personal info. For example, we learned that he was living in the rural areas of the country, and he claimed to be wealthy as he owned a cattle farm. We soon realized that he was extremely stupid, seeming to be lacking in both social skills and basic. education. He bragged about always wearing wooden shoes and how the females loved to be banged by him while he wore them. After some more back and forth, my girlfriend got bored and decided eff it, let's just go all in. So my girlfriend pretended to be interested in maybe hooking up, but only if he could offer some cocaine, as it always made her super horny. To our surprise,

he took the bait, but he couldn't afford it, despite bragging about being a wealthy cattle farmer just an hour earlier. He also slipped by telling her that his parents would be out of town the coming weekend. The dude literally forgot that he had claimed to be the owner of the bloody farm. Anyways, my girlfriend wrote something like, but Farmer Bob, didn't you know that if you mix three parts baking soda with one part vanilla sugar, then you would get a rush equal to a cocaine rush, but with a nice aftertaste, it's also way cheaper. We thought that this was so over the top that the game would be up and that Farmer Bob would finally, realize my girlfriend was trolling by now. Instead, he told us that he had forgotten about that

DIY cocaine trick, and he thanked my girlfriend for reminding him about it. My girlfriend convinced him that he had to make sure to make a batch before she booked a train ticket, and he had to make sure that it was of good quality. He promised her that he would make a batch right away and try it out later that evening, and we logged out. Fast forward a couple of days. We believe that he had realized my girlfriend had been trolling him, and we got an email written in all caps. It was something like, you made my nosebleed, you mother effing B-word! I had to visit a clinic because of you, etc. He was so furious and accused her of tricking him. But wait, my fellow Redditors, this wasn't even the best part. We not only managed to somehow convince him that he must have gotten the

mix wrong, we also made the outlandish claim that my girlfriend used this DIY nose candy all the time in her side gig, which was to produce and star in German amateur spanking adult videos, which she sold to tourists from all over Europe. To prove this, we recorded an extremely stupid and blatantly obvious fake trailer for our big hit, Spanking Mind Shaiba, which I guess means spank my butt, I don't know. My girlfriend's younger brother, asked, for him and his friends to star in it. So the scene is her bed. Her brother is sitting there with his friend

laying on his stomach over his lap, both fully dressed, and one of them pretending to be my girlfriend, because the guy had long curly hair. Using a wooden spatula, he simulated spanking him while I stood behind the camera and made clapping, wet hand noise

to create a sloppy spanking. To top it off, me and my girlfriend shouted German-sounding nonsense and they mimed their mouths. The quality of the video was horrendous, but the low resolution and frame rate actually created a believable trailer.

It was still extremely silly and over the top and should have been apparently fake to everyone. Not to Farmer Bob, though. He was totally convinced this was the genuine thing and begged us to sell him some films. We agreed to do so, but only if he tried some homemade cocaine again. We never heard from him,

again after that. I'm guessing he finally realized it was all fake. He might have kept creeping in the chat room, but using another name. We never got another report from his email, though. And yes, this is a true story. The trailer was unfortunately on an external hard drive that broke seven years ago. I hope to be able to extract it someday, but until then, you have my word of honor that this is a true story. O.P., don't worry, I actually do believe this is a true story because it's too weird for AI to come up with this. That was our slash pro revenge. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.