Ever seen someone who thinks they know everything, and can do whatever they want? Although it can be annoying to have to deal with these people, it's always fun to see them get shut down. Just ask these Redditors.
People on Reddit share the time they saw someone mess with the wrong person. Content has been edited for clarity.
“There’s Plenty Of Seats”
“Six years ago, I was sitting on the bus on my way to work. Across from me was a small guy, maybe five feet and eight inches tall and 130 pounds. He was the only other person at the back of the bus. The story starts at the downtown stop, where a heavy set guy maybe my height (about six feet tall and 190 pounds), gets on the bus and sits right next to the little fellow.
Now there were plenty of seats like I said. It was just me and the little guy at the back, and at this point and with them sitting directly in front of me maybe 3 feet away, I had a front row seat to the following exchange.
‘Dude, there’s plenty of seats. Why did you sit right next to me?’ the shorter guy asked.
When big guy spoke, I realized he was actually hammered at 7:30am guy. He basically told the guy to get lost and closed his eyes.
My attention goes back to my phone as neither one said anything. About two minutes later, unprompted hammered at 7:30am guy gets up and says ‘Let’s fight.’
I look up, and it’s too late. He’s throwing huge haymakers at this little guy, and I kid you not, he blocked and countered every single blow! He wasn’t mighty or big but he was fast and obviously trained.
After about five counter shots to the head, the guy went down. All his crack change and junk in his sweater pockets went flying, one of his shoes came off if I remember correctly. He picked himself up with a bloody nose and crossed the street scowling back at the bus. I learned one thing that day, the obvious moral to the story, but I bet that hammered guy didn’t learn a thing.
Turns out, little guy worked across the street from me. The bus was stopped while the police responded, so we walked together the rest of the way. I told him he did the right thing and it was pretty awesome. He told me about the martial arts he took and I told him if any legal ramifications came up I would gladly talk to the police and attest to him simply defending himself, but I never heard anything.”
“That Bully Had No Idea”
“I was a sophomore in high school, and there was a big, six foot, 230-pound football player. He was buff dude that loved to punch kids for no reason.
One day, he punched a kid about 150-pounds, five foot, small, and very skinny. The kid got really mad and told him he would meet him after school in the parking lot and kick his butt, and he went psycho; told him he was going to break his knees and shatter his face, and that he wouldn’t stop until he was a potato.
Well, everyone went to watch these two fight, and the buff dude throws an overhand right; the skinny dude dodges down and kicks the supporting knee, causing it to give out. Big guy goes down and immediately the kid punches him above his right eye and opens him up, then he elbowed his nose and broke it. He then punches him on the temple, KOing the big guy. He kept punching him after the guy was unconscious. Several of his friends grabbed him and told him to run away as it was a bloodbath. The big guy’s face was shattered; never seen someone cause so much damage in so little time. The fight probably lasted a minute or so.
It’s been 14 years, and I remember clearly. I was the little kid.
As a child, I was physically beaten up by my hammered uncles, and not like spanked or anything like that; they would punch and KO me and kick me while I was down. I almost bled out once, I was lucky that my mom came back from work and stopped the bleeding. We were very poor, so a doctor was out of the question.
By the time I was 10, I knew how to defend myself, and knew all the spots to hurt an adult; had to since my uncles weren’t the only adults that would beat the snot out of me. I was not allowed to play with any kids my age because my mom was afraid I would hurt them, and it would cost money to pay their parents. That bully had no idea about my background, and after so long, I just exploded. I never thought I would have hurt him so badly since he was so big and strong.
I don’t have that aggression anymore. I train in mixed martial arts, and I love it. Cheers.”
“She Was Very Frightened”
“I was a volunteer probation officer representing my community in a Restorative Justice program. Our objective was to intervene with teenagers with minor offenses, interview them, and determine if they should serve community service, life skills classes etc, in exchange for their record being cleansed.
Because I understood Spanish, I dealt primarily with Mexican-American kids in our local high school. Some were children of Mexican National agricultural workers but attended our high school. Our assignment that night was a 14 year old Mexican girl who spoke broken Eenglish. She had been charged with assault of a male classmate. She was very frightened and embarrassed when I interviewed her, so I asked my colleague, a woman, to interview her and I left the room.
The story was that the ‘victim’ was an older teenage male Mexican national who was usually accompanied by his two male friends. The ‘victim’ on several occasions had grabbed the chest of my arrested 14 year old. It had happened several times. Each time, the girl reported it to the principal, and each time the boy denied it, and produced his two buddies as witnesses that she was clearly lying because they saw no such thing.
So either the third or fourth time it happened, my innocent, bashful, 14 year old girl grabbed the bully by his member as tightly as she could, and twisted him and held on for dear life as he screamed. His screams attracted attention and the police came. This time they considered it serious enough they brought the police department. His buddies of course saw this attack ,despite never having seen the earlier groping. Apparently, I was told by my colleague, this grabbing and twisting of the member is a huge insult to their male pride in their culture. We decided she had suffered enough and the charges were dropped.”
“You Do This To Your Mom?”
“So, I’m Asian. As is my dad. He’s been an entrepreneur all his life, kind of forced to since he had immigrated to Canada…as there was no recognition of his certificates and licences. When he and mom were in their 60s, they purchased a bar in a small northern Ontario town. As with any place, there’s always some yahoos who think they are all that and a bag of chips. In this case they were two power lineman who came in while my mom was helping close (2:00 a.m.).
They went into the men’s room. I assume they used the facilities, but then proceeded to destroy the newly installed toilet stalls and rip the brand new doors from the stalls that had literally been installed the weekend before. According to one of the waitresses, Mom went into investigate. Shouting ensued and she stumbled backwards out of the doorway of the men’s bathroom, landing on her butt. I assume my mom had been pushed out.
The waitress told me that one of the guys had grabbed her by the face and shoved her out of the way, and told to ‘shut the eff up.’ The doorman was nowhere to be seen, and the bartender called my dad, who happened to be working in the back office. He came running out and saw my mom holding her face and crying. He was quickly told what happened. In the meantime the two guys had exited via another door.
I saw my dad come running out of the bar as I was driving over to see if I could help close the place. I heard him yelling at the two guys who towered over him (5′ 5″ and 150 lbs). They stopped and turned around. I slammed on the brakes and parked, almost in the middle of the road. The exchange went something like this in a matter of less than a minute…
Dad: ‘You guys just come out of my bar?’
Two guys: ‘Yeah, what’s it to you?’
Dad: ‘You push my wife?’
Two guys: ‘Yeah, forget you.’
Dad: (Physical action: three to five rapid slaps to their faces, so fast that I couldn’t see other than he slapped them, but I did hear them…. I was about five feet away at this point.)
My dad then grabbed them both by the ears and started pulling them back to the bar, saying: ‘My wife is old enough to be your mother, you do this to your mom?’
Silence.
He marched them back into the bar, and he made them apologize to my mom. I suggested calling the police and laying charges but he said no. However, he told them to come back in the evening for the next five days and fix the doors.
They did.”
“I Want You To Take My Card”
“Years ago, back in the late 70s, my father was doing business and skiing in Italy. Just before he left, he went to a really good restaurant in Rome. My father, ever the great conversationalist, noticed a very distinguished man at the table next to him. The two of them started chatting about drinks and food…then skiing, philosophy, children, family and the history of Italy. My father was a great amateur historian and knew all about Italy and spoke a smattering of Italian. Although he was not Italian, he deeply admired the country. He and the old man, who was from Sicily and owned a farm there, it seemed, as well as other ‘interests,’ stayed up fairly late drinking, laughing and finally singing together.
The one thing about this very well dressed, little old man, was that the waiters were VERY subservient to him and ignored all the other customers when he snapped his fingers. It also was clear that there was at least one very large fellow sitting at the bar making sure the old man was looked after.
Anyway, when the meal was finally over, my father pulled out his wallet to pay his end of it and the kindly old man laughed, shook his head, and said, ‘You can put your money away. You are my guest, of course. It has been a magnificent evening!’
My father tried a few times to help pay but the man old man wouldn’t hear of it. And my father also noticed that no bill came to the table…at all. For either of them. The waiters seemed to think that it was very amusing that he would offer to pay. The old man then said this to my father, just before he left.
‘I want you to take my card. This is my personal card and I only give it to only a few people whom I really like. Now, you are going back to America and I have friends there. If you are ever in trouble with the wrong people there, or you need help, show them this card. It may be useful,’ he said.
My father pulled out his own card in exchange and the man just laughed again, highly amused.
‘Now, you listen. I am being very serious,’ he said. ‘Just keep my card. It may come in handy. You never know.’
The old man found his way out of the restaurant, helped along by bowing waiters and his bodyguard. My father put the card in his wallet and promptly forgot about it.
Fast forward to about a year later. Dad was in New York, and had arranged a very nice lunch with his business associates at an extremely well known Italian restaurant in Manhattan. He came early to make sure things were ready only to find that the restaurant had given his table away to a group of very tough looking, well-dressed men. My father was furious and asked why the exact table he wanted, which he had carefully reserved, had been given to these other customers. The table the restaurant wanted to give him was near the bathrooms and much too small, and there was no time to rearrange things and go to a new restaurant. His guests would be there in only a few minutes. The waiters simply said the men at the table were men he wanted were regular customers, and they were very sorry but there had been a ‘mixup.’ To make matters worse, the table my dad had been given instead was still full and he would have to wait at the bar. My father sat down in a huff, and the bartender offered him a free glass of bubbly.
The bartender also said, quietly, ‘Sir, please don’t complain anymore about this. The men at that table are very powerful here in New York. They are very connected men, if you know what I mean. You don’t want any trouble with them, OK?’
Dad got the message, downed the bubbly, and then remembered the business card he had in his wallet. He figured now would be as good as any a time to see if this very tenuous connection to Sicily might help.
He showed it to the helpful bartender and said, ‘Would it help if I was a friend of this man on the card?’
The bartender smiled, and glanced at the card, and then snatched it from him.
‘Where did you get this?’ he demanded.
My father told him that he travels to Italy often and this was somebody he admired greatly.
The waiter nodded, pale. He took the card to the manager, and the two of them conferred. Then they brought the card to the table of these menacing men in expensive suits, and it was quietly presented to the leader of the group.
Instantly all the men at that table stood up, sputtering in Italian and Sicilian. The very meek manager pointed over at the bar where my father was sitting, and the men approached him, and asked his name. The top guy made a major show of apologizing profusely, bowing and scraping, and yelling at the manager for making this ‘monumental mess up’ and telling him to clear his table for my father and his friends, he and his associates would take the little table near the bathrooms, no problem at all. And if my father were ever to speak again to the man whose name was on the card, they hoped he would not mention this unfortunate event. Oh, and of course the lunch would be on them, and please take a bottle with it. Take two.
All the men hugged my father and one actually kissed his cheek.
My father greatly enjoyed the lunch with his friends.”
“This Should Have Been A Red Flag”
“I am female, and at the time of the incident, I was 19, five feet tall, and about 150 pounds, I was a student, I worked as a waitress, lived off campus with a roommate, paid my own bills and I know how to throw a punch. And this happened in broad daylight.
I had been dating a guy I’ll call ‘Dave.’ Dave lived in Worcester, Massachusetts and I lived about two and a half hours away in Connecticut. We’d been dating for about two months. Dave told me he wanted to introduce me to his parents, who lived in another country, but they were coming to Boston. Dave said I could stay with him and his parents in Boston for the weekend, and his parents would pay for my hotel stay, meals, etc. Dave’s parents were rich, he was in school, had his own apartment, his parents paid for everything. He even had his own Amex card, and he was only 21. So I believed him.
I confirmed everything with Dave the night before. He didn’t want me to come stay with him the night before and ride to Boston with him, he said he had to work on a term paper. This should have been a red flag, but I ignored it. So the day came, I gassed up my car for the long drive to Boston. Since Dave told me his parents would pay for everything, and I was poor, I only brought enough money for gas, parking, and a little extra.
Dave and I had agreed to meet in Boston Common, down by the swan boats, because that was a central area and we could go to the hotel from there. This was 26 years ago, so no GPS, and no cell phones. I arrived at our meet up spot at the time we agreed on, sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, as I was about to go find a payphone to call the hotel, Dave shows up. He tells me to sit down, he has something to tell me….
He broke up with me. I don’t remember what exactly he said, but it ended with a ‘Well, I hope you have a nice time in Boston!’
I was dumbfounded. I took time off of work (which I did not get paid time off) , used some of my very little savings for what I thought would be a nice weekend in Boston all to be dumped by a guy who could have saved me the trouble by just dumping me over the phone the night before.
So he left me there, on the park bench, upset. When I had calmed down, I started to around the park a little to clear my head before driving home. It was a bright clear day out, there were a lot of people out. It was a rather nice day.
All of a sudden, someone grabbed my arm hard and I felt something cold and small in the lower back. A male voice said, ‘Give me your money and jewelry or I will shoot you.’
I didn’t think, I just reacted. I whipped around and punched him in the face. His head snapped back, he let go of my arm, and I punched him in the gut, sending him sprawling on the pavement. Then I literally SAT on him and yelled for help.
The cops came, he was arrested. The look on their faces when they saw me sitting on him was priceless. He was a big dude. Probably a good three inches taller than me and at least 250 pounds. His eye was swelling shut where I had hit him when they got there, one of the cops asked him if I had done that, and he just muttered yes. The cop let out a laugh and said well looks like you deserved it.
The cops are arrested him, and after I gave a statement, I left to go home.
I got a flat tire on the way home.
It was just not my day. But that mugger definitely picked the wrong girl to mess with that day.”
“Throw Over Here”
“My father, who was in his early 50’s at the time, was a police Captain in my suburban city near St. Paul, Minnesota. After a tour in Vietnam, he had been a St. Paul police officer for 20 years, then ‘retired’ and took a leadership/administrative role in the suburbs.
There was a football game at the high school, and those are usually ‘all hands on deck’ situations, where regardless of position most of the department is working in uniform. So the ‘old man’ cop was on the field after the game keeping the teenagers from rushing the field.
He was standing on the opposite side of a five foot fence, and a couple of 15–16 year old kids started to climb over. He told them to stop, and not come over the fence. They ignored the warning and continued climbing over. He told them again, don’t come over the fence. They again didn’t listen and finished climbing over.
At that point as they were now on the same side of the fence as my dad. So, he grabbed each of them by the scruff of their necks, one in each hand, and threw them back over the 5′ fence, and said ‘I told you not to come over the fence.’
Later their parents complained to the police department, and since he was in charge of complaints, he wrote himself a letter of reprimand and gave himself a one day suspension without pay.
When he retired for good a year or so later, he was presented with a little chunk of chain-link fence that had a sign saying ‘throw over here.'”
“The Guy Looked Totally Freaked Out”
“Back in high school, I had a friend who worked at a local coffee shop frequented by the alternative kids in town (punks, skaters, geeks, etc.). One day I was sitting and chatting with her at the bar of the cafe. The cafe was full of people reading, chatting and playing chess. A young lesbian couple was sitting at a table by the wall. At another table were three guys I had never seen before. While I was chatting, the guys get up to leave. Then one of the guys goes over to the table with the lesbians. I can’t hear all of what he’s saying, but he’s hitting on one of the girls. She politely tells him she’s not interested. Well, to save face for being rejected in front of his friends, he dumps her glass of water on her.
My friend yells at him and tells him to get the heck out of the cafe. He asks her what she’s going to do about it. That’s when it happened. Every person in the cafe stood up as if on cue. My friend picked up the baseball bat she had behind the bar and the led the entire crowd as they backed him towards the door.
The guy looked totally freaked out. He quickly joined his friends crossing the street. The whole cafe was now standing on the sidewalk outside. Again to save some face the guy, yells back calling the girl a frigid person. To which she replies,
‘Well, that’s as close as you’ll ever come to making a girl wet!’
The whole crowd erupted in laughter and cheers. The three guys slunk off and were never seen there again.”
“I Could Take You”
“One summer during college, I went cross country with a friend who was one of the most physically powerful people I ever met. He was six feet of pure muscle, a collegiate east coast heavyweight wrestling champion, and was the captain and a defensive lineman of our college’s football team. He was about 265 pounds when we went cross-country, and there was not an ounce of fat on him. His biceps were twice as big as my thighs and his chest was so big if you hollowed it out you could probably take a nap in it.
He used to tell me how random people would try to pick fights with him. He was a gentle giant, smart and accomplished (he won a few academic awards from our school and became a surgeon). The last thing he wanted to do was fight.
We stopped in New Orleans. We were sitting at a bar, minding our own business. A guy walked up to my friend out of nowhere, tapped him on the shoulder. The guy was maybe five feet, and pretty average looking.
When my friend turned the guy said ‘You know, I could take you.’
My friend replied ‘I am sure you can,’ and turned back to talk to me.
The guy felt dismissed (which he was), so he took my friend’s shoulder and turned him slightly around, and said ‘Let’s step outside. I want to show you I can kick your butt.’
I was sitting there incredulous, but now I believed all my friend’s stories.
My friend said ‘No need to go outside. I already said I believe you can take me.’
Now people were watching from all around us. The guy was stuck. He said ‘You are just saying that. You don’t believe me. I want to show you! Or are you afraid?’
My friend got up – he towers over the guy and looked like he could squash him like a bug – and he said to the people sitting around us: ‘Hey everybody? You see this guy? He says he can take me. I told him I was sure he can. He doesn’t believe I am sincere. So I tell you all sincerely’ – and here he jabs his finger in the air at the guy – ‘this guy’ -and then he points to himself – ‘can take me.’ And then my friend turns his back on the guy and sits back down, turns to me, and starts chatting.
The guy is standing there and everyone is looking at him like he is an idiot. Because of the just-on-the-edge-of-sarcasm way my friend said it, everyone in the place knew what he was doing. The guy though, had no idea what to do next. Finally, he slinks away.
It was masterful. He defeated the guy utterly without laying a finger on him. He was secure in his ego and did not need to prove anything. My admiration for my friend grew a lot that evening.”
“It Was Fast And Effective”
“When parent gets arrested, children end up in custody too.
A doll looking girl had arrived the previous night at the Center. She was so skinny. She had long straight blonde hair and was placed in the 9–13 years old group despite being eight. No space in her ‘age-group.’ She cried softly in her bed most of the night. Those places are called Emergency Centers. You’re there until they figure out what to do with you. So, kids come in, or go out at any hours of the day. Any kind of kids. Some are new to the system, others not so much.
This place was a big one. Girls only. Probably a school before. I could see a school yard in the back through the windows and meals were taken in a real cafeteria downstairs.
It happened during a meal. Her first meal there. We were sitting in one of those fold up long table that comes with benches attached. In order to remove yourself from those, you need to ask the person sitting next to you to leave a space for you in order to pull your leg out one by one. She was extremely small in stature and her greenish blue eyes were the type that people stare at, even if they didn’t want to. The fact that she was malnourished just accentuated that trait.
She hadn’t spoke to anyone yet, and nobody had spoken to her. Not a surprising demeanor considering our age and the trauma we were put through. But of course, nature oblige, somebody had to bully somebody.
That morning, the skinny girl was sitting across a not so nice big girl. That big girl proceeded to ask her why she was so skinny. ‘Skinny’ didn’t respond. By this time, everybody sitting at our table had stopped small talking, were paying attention and, actually, wanted to know why she was so skinny.
Skinny seemed re-organizing her tray and was very absorb by the food in front of her. She was smelling and tasting everything while totally ignoring the big girl. ‘Big Bully’ knew everybody was paying attention. She wasn’t going to let it go. She then, extended her hand, very slowly, across the table to reach something on Skinny’s tray while staring at her reaction.
That’s when it happened and it happened real fast. When it comes to successful aggression, well, size doesn’t matter.
By the time Skinny’s fork had pierced Bully’s hand, Skinny’s feet were already on top of the bench, adding force to impact. Skinny wasn’t ‘squished’ by her meal mates like Bully was.
One would think that the next thing to happen would be a long scream from Bully and a brawl. Well no, because at the same time Skinny picked up a glass of morning healthy juice and splashed it into Bully’s, opened but yet not screaming, mouth which got her to choke and fall backward. It was fast and effective.
By the time the adults in charge were all around us, trying to figure out what just happened to the bleeding big girl laying in the between of the cafeteria tables, well Skinny was sitting back in her spot and had finished everything in her tray. She also had pocketed an extra granola bar taken from the Bully.”