rSlash - r/Prorevenge Steal My Dog? I'll Ruin Your Life!

Episode Date: February 12, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:08 Toby 5:07 Bad dispatcher 10:55 Car crushed Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Welcome to r slash pro revenge, where a jerk learns the lesson, never mess with another man's dog. Our next reddit post is from deleted. I adopted a full-bred husky in the Pacific Northwest. We named him Toby, but after a while, he developed the name RealBigToby. He wasn't a huge husky or malamute, but after a while, he developed the name Real Big Toby. He wasn't a huge husky or malamute, but boy did he look beautiful and boy was his personality real big. He had one blue eye and one brown eye, which never failed to trip people out. On top of that, he was a huge ham, loved attention, and would actually talk to you about how his day was going. It got to the point where it was kinda stupid to put him on a leash.

I would tell him to stay when I went to class for example, and he'd be passed out or getting the chicks to scratch his belly when I came out. Every time. The Dean of the college even knew him on a first name basis and started to bring his dog into work after watching real big Toby do his thing. At the time, I lived in a mountain town, attended college, and was an avid mountain biker, so having a dog that would happily and easily do 30 miles in a day was cool. He would follow us everywhere we went. My mountain bike was my only source of transportation, so we became very in tune with one another. He was a husky, after all, so you could tell that when he ran, that this was exactly what he was born to do. Toby was such a super good boy. He listened, paid attention, and never left my side. He had a seat designated for him on the deck at the local coffee shop,

which meant you had to walk by him and try to resist giving him a scratch if you wanted to go inside. It got to the point where just about everyone in this fairly small town got to know Toby on a first name basis. Every once in a while on mountain bike runs, we would get separated or Toby would just get sidetracked on the way down a hill. It was such a small town that in the few times it happened, he was back with me by the end of the day. The police all knew him from around town.

The pound knew him. So if anyone called, they just give them my number. One day, it happened again. He got lost on the way down the hill. Only this time, he didn't come back. No call, nothing. For days. It got to the point where I started asking around town. If you've ever lived in a small town, you know that it's hard to keep a secret. After about a week, a friend says that he saw Toby and he tracked the guy down and gave him my number. He never called.

After searching and trying to find this guy, I finally got a breakthrough. He worked at the college. Now I'm aware how stupid people can be when they receive an animal. And Toby was ripped. You could see his muscles bulging out through his fur. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him because, you guessed it, he was in excellent shape. I fed him mostly a raw diet and what kibble he did get was the best that you could buy. The first thing out of this guy's mouth was to tell me that he's keeping my dog. You don't take

care of him. You don't even feed him and he's such a good dog. He'll be better off with me," he said. I became enraged. Well, like I mentioned, he worked at the school that I attended. I also mentioned the Dean hammed it up with Toby on a nearly daily basis. I didn't mention that I had the Dean's home number though, so a call Saturday morning resulted in Toby being returned to me later that day. This guy had the nerve to, along with Toby, bring me a 50 pound bag of the worst store brand of dog food you could buy. I bought you this so you could feed him.

Rage. I came to find out this guy was in charge of a research project for the school. It was very easy to figure out where his office was. I went to his office with a plan of returning his food and chewing him out in front of his colleagues. He wasn't at his desk, so I did the most natural thing I could possibly do. I turned the 50 pound bag of dog food upside down on his desk, computer, stacks of papers to the point where it formed a perfect mountain on top of his keyboard. Truly an awesome sight. Knowing loose lips sink ships, I didn't tell anyone but my

close friends. The school brought misconduct charges against me. The hearing was in front of a board of other students and staff. And, well, I don't know what happened to the bag of dog food. I was telling the story to a bunch of guys and one of them asked me for the bag. That's the last I saw of it. All charges were dropped. The butthole who tried to steal real big Toby had it much, much worse. 50 pounds of dog food on top of your research project, as it turns out, doesn't bode well with management. For reasons unknown, two days later he was fired from the college.

Not only did they fire him, but they put a restraining order on him and had to change the locks of the building. Don't mess with real big Toby. You know, stealing someone's dog is so stupid. Because first of all, you make a lifelong enemy. And second of all, there's tons of dogs. So just go to the pound and get a dog. They're practically giving them away. So why steal someone else's dog? And third of all, haven't you seen John Wick? Our next Reddit post is from Chucketbucket. So I was a driver for Amazon.

I'd been there for several months at this point and had developed a reputation of being very anal about vehicle maintenance. We aren't talking like washing them or whatnot, point and had developed a reputation of being very anal about vehicle maintenance. We aren't talking like washing them or whatnot, but cleaning out urine bottles, fixing broken wiper blades, installing lights to replace burnt out ones, or other stuff that would indicate you actually remotely care for your driver's well-being. Seriously guys, I had a van once with no working lights of any kind, and the passenger side door fell off its hinges right in front of my dispatchers and they still sent me out. Needless to say, some trips were better than others, but this particular time, well, it

was a doozy. You see, friends, I was considered a problem driver by some for being obsessed with vehicles being kept road legal. I hadn't caused any issues other than this. We had dispatchers that were promoted up after a month, and this was after hitting mailboxes, cars, and other kinds of insanity, but I was always skipped over. This naturally irked me to no end, and I was looking for better within six months of starting. I was there for nearly two years.

Naturally, all my requests for the essential equipment and the removal of urine bottles was denied, so I would buy bulbs from my van and pull them out after my route was done so I could put them into the next one the next day. And I chucked piss bottles out on the record. Kinda gross, but better than smelling it in the hot Georgia sun in the middle of summer in a van with sometimes working AC. This nonsense continued for the entirety of my time there, of course. This event, however, was the first of many times I decided to get back at the dispatchers for messing with my routes and giving me the worst vans and so on. You see, this van had lights that were bad. Broken AC.

It shook like mad, squeaked, smelled like piss and musty taco farts. The door didn't properly lock, so anyone could have stolen packages from it, and not much could be done. And to top it all off, four bad tires. Like metal bands exposed, and one bulging out on its death throes. The whole day, I babied this van as best as I could. I put air in the tire a few times and just barely finished my route with some daylight to spare.

So, ten hours on the road down and an hour and a half back to the distribution center. I get underway and get about halfway before I felt the telltale shake of a tire going out. Well, shoot, here we go, I say to myself and scan my surroundings. I'm on the interstate and not very far from an off-ramp. So with what little tire I have left, I limp off the ramp into a parking lot which is right next to an Applebee's. Perfect luck, all things considered. I call dispatch and give my exact location and tell them what happened. The conversation goes thusly. Hey, I got a flat over here at such and such location.

What? How? Because you sent me out in a van that needed tires? Fine, whatever. Everyone's gone home, so you're gonna have to wait till I get there. Sure, that's fine. I'll stay clocked in then. Uh-uh. You finished your route, so I don't see why you'd be on the clock. Because I'm still in command of this vehicle. I have the keys, and if you want me to give it back, you're gonna have to keep me on the clock. I'd called the company HR and explained everything before I called the dispatcher, and they assured me my time would be recorded.

Fine. I have things to do tonight, so we gotta hurry up. Perfect, time to screw with this guy. After giving him extremely vague directions while I enjoy a steak meal and a large beer, on the clock, no F's given anymore, he finally finds it. I go out there and I see that he has brought the smallest, saddest, most not suitable for the task Jack in the center. Well, get to it. You made me leave with this van and you can change the tire. Nuh-uh, you were driving it and... Drivers are not allowed, as per company policy,

to repair the van. This same guy had yelled at me previously for trying to do this with the bulbs. Only dispatch, management, maintenance, and the repair shop can repair the van. So I walk away to finish my meal while he tries to fix this flat with the jack barely able to lift the front of the vehicle and needed bricks and other items to even go high enough. In total, I wasted 4 hours of his time, cost him time to smoke up, and he missed the game that he apparently had money on. I got my meal effectively for free with the hefty overtime that I got that week.

And as an extra smackdown, Corporate came in and fired the manager, assistant manager, and particular dispatcher for failure to maintain the vehicles to DOT standards, and for mismanaging the delivery service provider after my lovely chat with HR during the incident. I showed them the text messages and some of the recorded audio I'd taken of a dispatcher being a general douche canoe. A week later and we had a temp management comprised of corporate operations that would oversee the vans getting replaced by less awful ones, training new management, and of course, giving training on what to do if you have a vehicle fail like that and granting drivers some

maintenance permissions. Down in the comments, people are asking about these mysterious piss bottles which I've heard about before. Apparently, they're fairly common in Amazon and OP Explains. This company emphasized delivery speed. You'd get docked $20 every time you were behind for almost any reason. So a lot of drivers would just piss in bottles. So that's a comforting thought. Almost every Amazon package you've ever picked up has probably recently been handled by someone who is just pissing into a Coca-Cola bottle. Our next Reddit post is from Chef.

For background, I worked as a firefighter as an investigator for an independent department. Every day, the food duties changed from firefighter to firefighter. It was my chief's turn to cook when this happened. My friend Bob worked as a general manager of a small grocery store. There was a long empty space in front of the store marked with the following sign. Emergency vehicles only. Enter Entitled Jerk. He had a nice looking BMW car and always parked in the above spot every week.

Bob told Entitled Jerk that he couldn't park there. I can park wherever I effing want. I make more in a day than you make in a week. My friend calls me complaining about Entitled Jerk. I agree to go and watch the spot. I get into our utility truck, which had the department decals on the door and a single red light on the dash. I park in the emergency vehicles only spot. As I'm walking in, I hear, you can't park there. That's my special spot. I turn and look at Entitled Jerk. Excuse me, I say.

I'm on official duties and I can park there. I point into the decal on the door. Entitled Jerk looks and says, you can't be a firefighter. You're a girl. Move your truck and leave, you grunt. Now I'm proud of my job. In a department of 2000, I was one of five women in the department. I graduated top of my class.

I have a shocked looking expression on my face. I get really pissed off. I walk into my friend's office to get more information about his problem with Entitled Jerk. As Bob explains the continuous parking violations, I see a small notice on the fire suppression system that said the inspection was coming up. I smile as I got an idea. Cue the revenge!

I get some information, leave Bob's office, and get into the truck hitting back to the station. I arrive and head to my chief's office. I tell him of Entitled Jerk and what he said and how he parks. And my chief, a 6'6", 320 pound Samoan who sees everyone as family, his face gets bright red. I explain my idea and he gets very happy. He rushes out and calls a station meeting. I lay out my idea. We send out the station to do a fire drill slash inspection by sending the old truck and one engine to the store. My friend will call the station the next time Entitled Jerk parks in the fire lane.

Skip to two weeks later, Bob called the station saying that Entitled Jerk had just parked. As I'm thanking him, I hear his fire alarm go off. I rush and change into my investigator uniform with turnout gear. I tell the chief and send the trucks out. I ride in the quint. We arrive and I see Entitled Jerk's car right in the emergency vehicle spot. I radio to have one engine pull right in front of Entitled Jerk's car and the truck to park right beside the driver's side door. I get out and the engineer starts setting up the ladder which means four very large and very heavy support struts go down, and one crushes the

front of his car's hood. The car alarm goes off. Our lineman breaks the windows as he runs the large 5-inch draft line from the pump to the standpipes through this guy's front seats. I go in to find Bob, hurriedly getting people out as the alarm is going off. Entitled jerk runs out of the store, sees his car, and goes ballistic. I radioed the police department dispatch and request a few officers to the store, as a male was impending a fire operation. The dispatcher says they'll send out a few officers.

Three officers show up and I ask them to follow me. They do. I call out, Hey! Leave my firefighters alone. Entitled Jerk turns, sees me, and rushes up screaming that I'll pay for damaging his precious baby, as in his car. I stop and tell him that if he doesn't leave, he'll be arrested. He gets in my face. You did this. I'll have your job for this. He then pushes me. Me and the officers tackle Entitled Jerk to the ground. After they cuff him, I calmly inform this guy that he was under arrest for assault and interference with a fire investigation and that his car would be towed for parking in a fire lane. I later

found out that it was crushed. Entitled Jerk got 12 months probation for pushing me and interfering with a fire operation. He also got a fine of $500 for parking, the cost of the tow, and he lost his nice BMW. Moral of the story is, don't park where you shouldn't or bad things will happen. That was r 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.