3 Real-Life Stories Where Taunters Got The Perfect Payback

From the time we are young, many of us experience the pain of being bullied. It often starts on the playground but it can spill over into our adult life and make our lives miserable.

When someone is mocking us, the only thing we can often think of is how we are going to get back at them. Revenge is sweet and it takes time but when you are getting revenge on a bully, it is worth the effort.

The three true-to-life stories we have for you below show just how difficult it can be to have someone mocking you and putting you down. They also show just how great it is when karma steps in and takes care of things.

1: Rich Man Mocks Poor Heavy Woman on the Plane until He Hears Captain’s Voice Speaking to Her

It was supposed to be an uneventful flight from LAX to Portland. Honestly, all I planned on doing was journaling or doodling in my notebook. But that changed the second I saw the rich man sitting across the aisle from me.

He was glaring at the woman seated next to him, a larger woman who was clearly just trying to settle in. I could hear him grumbling under his breath as she buckled her seatbelt, and just as her elbow brushed against him, he practically jumped out of his seat.

“Watch it!” he snapped, his voice loud enough that a few heads turned.

The woman’s face turned pink.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” she said quietly.

“Sorry?” he scoffed, his eyes raking over her. “Maybe you should apologize for the thousands of doughnuts you ate to get to that size.”

A few passengers gasped, and I felt a flash of anger. The woman looked absolutely crushed, her eyes filling with tears.

“Sir, I…” she began.

“When you travel, book two seats next time,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Because you clearly need them.”

The woman turned to face the window, her shoulders shaking. The man smirked, glancing around as if expecting everyone to join him in his mockery. Instead, we all just watched, stunned at his rudeness.

The flight attendant looked like she wanted to say something but held back, likely trying to stay professional.

Not five minutes later, the drinks cart came around, and the man wasted no time.

“I’ll have a martini, shaken, not stirred,” he said, doing a really bad James Bond impression. “And I don’t know what Moby Dick here will drink…”

The flight attendant’s mouth tightened, but she leaned down to the woman beside him.

“Ma’am, would you like something to drink?” she asked.

The woman wiped her face and smiled weakly.

“A diet Coke, please,” she said.

“Diet Coke?” the man sneered. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Everyone was silent as the flight attendant served them. The woman beside him didn’t respond to his jabs; she just stared out the window, dabbing at her eyes.

A while later, the attendant returned with trays of food. She set down a tray in front of him, then turned to the woman.

“I’ll be right back with yours, Miss Jones. The captain has requested you up in the cockpit when you’re ready.”

I watched the man’s face twist in surprise.

“Miss Jones?” he muttered to himself as the woman smiled shyly, her cheeks still flushed. She stood to follow the attendant, and the man had no choice but to get up and let her pass.

He looked so put out that it was almost laughable.

Moments later, the captain’s voice came over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest on board! If you’re fans of I Love Opera, you may recognize her voice!”

We all turned as an incredible, clear voice echoed through the cabin, singing a few notes from a famous aria. People started applauding, craning their necks to get a glimpse.

“That’s right!” the captain said. “Miss Jones is with us here today!”

The man sank into his seat, his face going white as the applause grew louder. Just then, the flight attendant returned and fixed him with a stern glare.

“Listen up,” she said. “If you upset Miss Jones again, I’ll be moving you to economy.”

He opened his mouth, likely to complain, but shut it at her raised brow.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s not me you need to apologize to,” she replied coldly.

A few minutes later, Allison returned, graciously signing autographs and chatting with her fans. The man stood as she approached, trying to charm her with an insincere smile.

“Listen,” he began. “I’m sorry if I came off a little rude. I didn’t know who you were.”

Allison met his gaze, her eyes bright.

“It shouldn’t matter who I am. You shouldn’t treat people that way, ever.”

She shook her head, voice steady.

“You’re not sorry; you wouldn’t even be apologizing if I weren’t famous. I can’t change my weight overnight, but you? You can change your attitude.”

He didn’t say another word for the rest of the flight, leaving me to wonder if he’d ever learned a lesson as hard as the one Allison had just handed him.

2: Husband Constantly Mocks Unemployed Wife for Doing Nothing, Finds a Note after Ambulance Takes Her Away

Harry and I had been arguing more often than talking, and every time, he found new ways to remind me of how “little” I was doing with my life.

After he got that promotion at his tech job, his criticism hit harder.

One morning, he burst into the dining room, already irritated.

“Sara, where’s my new white shirt?” he asked.

“In the wash, honey,” I said, trying to keep the peace for our boys, Cody and Sonny, who were watching. “It’s with the other whites.”

He shot me a glare.

“You knew I needed it for my meeting today, Sara. Are you so out of touch that you can’t even remember one simple thing?”

“Harry, it’s a shirt,” I said, keeping my voice low. “The presentation is what matters. Nobody will be looking at your shirt.”

He sighed, as though he was speaking to someone stupid.

“It’s not just a shirt, alright?” he said. “This project is the reason I work day and night. While you sit at home all day, doing nothing.”

I could feel my stomach twist, but before I could respond, he’d already stormed off to get dressed, leaving me feeling like a stranger in my own home. By the time he left, grabbing his briefcase without another word, my heart was pounding in my chest.

That afternoon, I felt the weight of Harry’s words.

The boys had already gone to school, and I sat down, alone in the silence.

Doing nothing, he’d said.

I thought of the countless meals, the endless nights with Cody and Sonny, and the dreams I’d put on hold to keep this family together.

And all for that? For Harry to behave like this?

My hands started shaking as the anger and hurt rose up inside me, colliding with the loneliness I’d felt for years.

Later, as I was tidying up the living room, the pain in my chest hit hard and fast, taking my breath away.

Before I knew it, I was in the ER. Zara, my sister, was suddenly next to me, shaking her head when I tried to explain what had happened.

“Wait, how did I get here?” I asked, my eyes slowly adjusting to the harsh hospital lighting.

“I stopped by, Sara,” she said. “I came over with all the ingredients to make tacos because I thought that we could have a sister date. I found you on the floor in the living room. Don’t you remember what happened?”

“I was… I was worked up. Harry and I got into it this morning, and he said some really harsh things.”

“Are you kidding me, Sara? This has to stop. You need to leave him,” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Her words cut deep, stirring up the thoughts I’d been too scared to consider.

When Harry finally showed up, he looked worried, but when he tried to speak, I cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Sara, I found out that you were in the hospital by note. My receptionist brought me a note during the presentation. How do you think I felt?”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” I said. “I can’t keep doing this.”

I thought that maybe by repeating it, the message would sink in.

He tried to play it off, to act like I was overreacting, but I’d made my choice. I told him I wanted a divorce, and for the first time, I felt a strange peace.

Days turned into weeks, and I healed. First, physically, I recovered from my panic attack, which had sent me to the hospital. And then, mentally and emotionally. I focused on my own dreams. I started working as an interior designer again, and though it was difficult, I felt like I was finally living for myself.

But I missed Cody and Sonny deeply. I told Harry that I needed a break from everything while I healed, and I knew that between our mothers and my sister, the boys would be taken care of. But I also knew that when the time came, Harry would take me to court.

Eventually, I knew I needed to fight for them.

When we went to court, I saw how much Harry had changed.

He looked exhausted, barely holding it together. And when he testified, I saw a side of him I’d never seen before. Suddenly, there was a vulnerable, tired man struggling to manage everything on his own before me.

When it was my turn, I told the truth.

“I left because I couldn’t keep sacrificing my own dreams. But I love my kids, Your Honor. And I’m here for them now. I just needed a moment to focus on my health, so that I could be better for them… better for my family.”

The judge ruled in my favor, and as I took the boys’ hands, Cody stopped, looking between us with tears in his eyes.

“Stop fighting,” he pleaded. “You’re tearing us apart. We want to live together again.”

I knelt beside him, and everything I’d tried to forget came flooding back.

I wrapped my arms around them both, my heart breaking, knowing this wasn’t the family I’d wanted us to be.

Later, when I was back in our home and settled, I told Harry that I needed him to respect me.

“That’s the only way this is going to work,” I said. “And I’m working again. So we need to figure out how to run around between the kids. And don’t you dare mock me again, Harry.”

Harry nodded.

“I promise, Sara,” he said. “I’ll be better. So much better.”

3: Everyone Mocks Girl in Cheap Dress at Party until White Limousine Stops in Front of Her

I should have known this party wasn’t a good idea. Trudy had been thrilled when she got the invitation.

“Mommy, my entire class is invited! I have to go! I can’t be the only one! Please, please, please!” she begged.

When I found out we had to buy the dress from the Fontaine store, I nearly laughed. Fontaine dresses were practically an insult to my bank account.

I tried, though.

I took Trudy there, hoping for a miracle. But seeing the price tags made my stomach drop. Each dress was five times what I’d saved from last week’s tips. With a quick squeeze of Trudy’s hand, I led her out, ignoring the pitying glances and whispering voices around us.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” I told her. “You’ll have a beautiful dress.”

At home, I found a fabric similar to the dress we’d seen, and I stayed up all night sewing.

By morning, the dress was done.

“Thank you, Mom,” Trudy whispered as she hugged me. “I love it.”

When we arrived at the party, my heart sank as I saw the other kids. They were all dressed in designer clothes, twirling and showing off to each other.

When they spotted Trudy, they stopped. First, there was silence, then whispers that grew louder.

“Where’d you get that dress?”

“Her mother probably made it,” another one scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Parents gathered in clusters, sharing snide glances. One mother laughed and muttered to her friend, loud enough to hear.

“Some people should really know their place.”

Trudy’s face crumpled, and she turned away, clutching her dress as if to hide it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered, but she was already running, trying to escape the mocking voices.

She ran so fast she didn’t even see the limousine parked just outside. I ran after her just in time to see her collide with the side of the car. The driver jumped out, yelling at her, but he immediately fell silent as the man in the back seat got out.

The man who stepped out was tall, handsome, and well-dressed. He looked at Trudy with concern, then his gaze drifted up to me. My heart skipped. That face was so familiar…

“Joe?” I gasped, barely believing my eyes. “Is it really you?”

His face shifted from confusion to realization slowly.

“Maddy? Trudy?” he whispered.

The three of us hugged, holding each other as if to prove we were all truly there. I couldn’t believe it; this was Joe, my husband.

My husband, whom I’d believed to be dead for five years.

Trudy clung to him.

“Trudy, this is your father,” I said softly.

Joe looked at us, his eyes misting over.

“I finally found you,” he said, almost in disbelief.

He spoke quickly, talking about how his amnesia, following a mining accident, had taken over his life. He had tried to find me, but after his supposed death, I moved to a smaller apartment with baby Trudy.

“This is my partner’s house,” he said. “I’m also here for his child’s party… Trudy goes to school with her?”

I nodded. I had so many questions, but I didn’t know where to start. And this wasn’t the place for that.

Back at the party hall, Joe noticed the whispers and judgmental stares. He looked down at Trudy, and his jaw tightened.

“Why don’t we go in together?” he asked gently.

I hesitated, but he assured me.

Inside, the murmurs grew louder. Parents threw snide glances our way, and one man laughed.

“Some people just don’t know how to dress their children properly. It’s pathetic. I almost feel sorry for the kid.”

Joe smiled at me before speaking, then he squared his shoulders, addressing the entire room.

“Our daughter may not wear fancy clothes, but we taught her to be kind and respectful. It’s people with souls as poor as yours who are beyond help.”

The hall went silent. None of the parents dared speak, and those who had been whispering quickly looked away.

Joe drove us to his place that night, where he finally explained more. He had been wearing his friend’s jacket when the mine collapsed, which is how he was misidentified. No one visited him in the hospital.

In the years that we’d been apart, Joe had started his own mining business and had become a wealthy man. But as he held Trudy and me that night, he vowed to make up for every day he’d missed.

And for the first time in years, I believed that we’d finally found our happy ending. And the best part? My child had gotten her father back.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *