Ever met someone who always thinks they're right and refuses to see someone else's point of view? These people can be incredibly annoying to deal with. Although, there is one good thing about them; seeing somebody shut them down and put them in their place.

People on Quora share the time they wiped the smirk off of someone's face. Content has been edited for clarity.

That's A Hefty Goal
That's A Hefty Goal

"In my early employment days in the late 70s, I worked for two years at a fast-food restaurant characterized by a large yellow M. I had left that job for a better one contracting with the auto industry. As things were tough for those jobs, I was laid off and got a job with another fast-food chain, this one using the founder’s daughter for the name. Naturally, my application mentioned the previous place and they liked to compare themselves.

One day after the lunch rush, they were extraordinarily pleased with themselves, as we had reached their goal for sales during the 12–1 o’clock hour. $500.

'How does $500 compare with your other job?' they asked, snidely.

I said, 'That’s great! In the time I was there at lunch hour, we never quite made our goal. We were always $20 to $40 short.'

'What was the goal?'


They stopped comparing themselves after that."

"Subject Never Came Up Again"
"Subject Never Came Up Again"

"My then-husband was bragging too often on his education: he graduated from St Mary University and was quite proud of that fact. I hadn't heard of it, but I'm hardly an expert on colleges. Being a transplant to Denver, I had always been a little vague about my college experience, mentioning a few East Coast schools where I had taken various undergrad and graduate-level classes.

He spoke of his athletic accomplishments. He was an alternate on the US Olympic swim team in Mexico City, which I thought was an amazing achievement. He was an expert skier, and I praised the skill that I could see clearly for myself. But somehow the conversation always returned to his alma mater.

The last time he threw in my face that he had attended the school they called 'The Harvard of the South,' I responded that I had attended the school they called 'Harvard.'

And the subject never came up again."

Looks Can Be Deceiving
Looks Can Be Deceiving

"A friend of mine persuaded me to go with her and her family to a 'Renaissance Fair’, where you can experience life as it was in the 14th–17th century through various presentations and activities.

One of the presentations was fencing. Yes, the old-fashioned kind with which brave knights settled their disagreements. People gathered around the roped-off perimeters of the ring, and the skilled presenter would challenge the male visitors to a 'game of fencing.' As soon as the potential competitor walked into the ring, the presenter would give him a sword (epee), and would verbally ridicule him as the helpless competitor was being forced off the ring by the presenter’s skillful moves in a two-minute losing game.

This was a sad situation for the unsuspecting yet brave visitors.

Against my friend’s advice, I decided to enter the ring. The presenter seeing that a woman was entering the ring, turned up his ridiculing shtick to the max. He had the audience laughing in no time.

Wearing sandals and a ruffled blouse, I looked more like a hippie than a formidable fencing opponent.

The game started and with my skills, I forced the presenter off the ring in less than 30 seconds. The applause, thumbs up, and bows of respect from the audience for me were worth more than the trophy I won.

You see, what the presenter didn’t know was that I had just completed six months of lessons with an Olympic Gold medalist in fencing.

And that’s how I wiped a smirk off of his face.

And I refused to accept the measly trophy that he tried to give me."

"That Put A Smile On Everyone's Face"
"That Put A Smile On Everyone's Face"

"It was a hilarious occurrence that happened in a Walmart when my son was six years old. We were in line waiting to check out, and there was a guy right behind us who had a shaved head and beard with a big inappropriate tattoo on his shoulder, as well as several on his body. He was about six feet tall and heavily muscled. I have kept my head shaved for several years after I started going bald and I also have a beard. I was in pretty good shape back then myself. I had just shaved my son’s head before we went to Walmart, and he has bright blue eyes.

There were several people who were very uncomfortable with this guy's presence, and he seemed to enjoy that they were intimidated by him. He came up to my son and put his hand on my son's head and rubbed it, nothing to hurt him, just rubbing his head.

He looked at me and said, 'That’s a fine-looking young man you’ve got there, all he needs is a couple of good tattoos like mine.'

He smirked at the cashier who wasn’t smiling at all.

I said, 'No, actually he likes his hair long, but he came home from school today with head lice, I shaved his head and then came to buy this medication to make sure we get rid of them.'

I smiled and said, 'You really should go wash your hands because those little guys can be all over you before you know it.' The smirk was gone, and so was he, straight to the bathroom to wash his hands, I guess.

After he was gone I told the cashier loud enough for the other people to hear that my son really didn’t have head lice, he just wanted his head shaved because mine was. And the medication I was buying was flea and tick killer for our cat. That put a smile on everyone's face and we went home to treat our cat."

A Future Lawyer In The Making
A Future Lawyer In The Making

"Way back when in high school, the late 80’s, I had an honors English class that decided to hold a lesson on newspaper article writing and then mock trials.

The lesson was for each student to write an article about someone else in the class, favorable or unfavorable. The student who was the subject of the article then could bask in the praise or sue for defamation. Being the lazy genius I was, I skipped writing anything about the other students; most I had contempt for and couldn’t wait until graduation so I’d never have to see them again.

Anyway, a lovely girl decided to write about me, very unfavorably. I had no idea why. We also shared a class in French and maybe a few others, hard to tell as honors students tended to have the same class load at this school and we were separated from lesser gifted students most of the time…yeah, it really was annoying to see the same faces over and over and over again, year after year. So maybe she had something against me or maybe even a crush she didn’t want to admit, who knows.

After the article was read, I applied to sue for defamation.

Mock trials were simple. Present the case and then do your best to support your side. We were instructed to select a jury and we were told not to talk about the case outside of class.

The trial date rolls about and I rip her a new one. She had a lawyer represent her (a fellow student), and I chose to represent myself. The case rolled over class time and we were to follow up the next day. So, no speaking about the case.

Next class, most of the students were all abuzz about what was going on but were speaking quietly about it. I felt that despite my ability to represent my fellow students (jury) were mostly kids who disliked me so, I whipped everyone up into a great debate about the case…outside the court…in the hopes that it would be tossed out and I could start afresh. I was also approached by a friend who said he also felt the case would go against me. He said he felt a kinship with my plight and would aid me if I put him on the jury. Hey, I’m all for a rigged case that’s in my favor, so I went with it.

The next day, the teacher in charge was a bit upset and ruled that the case would start afresh. So we worked to select a new jury and I got my friend on it. I also worked to get people who were either friendly or neutral towards me. But, with me being nerdy and the girl being a bit cute and friends with popular kids, it was hard to tell where loyalties of high school kids laid.

The day after we resumed the case.

Surprise of all surprises she had a, you guessed it, surprise witness.

Our French teacher.

So, she and her lawyer marched him in. He sat down with a smug smile on his face and as her witness answered all of her questions favorably to her position. Then, it was my time to question the witness.

'So, you’re a teacher?' I began.

‘Yes.’ he responds.

'Aren’t all teachers supposed to be impartial and unbiased in the treatment and review of students?' I innocently asked.

The look on his face as he was outed as a biased and partial teacher in front of the honor's student body, a fellow teacher, and that everyone would be talking about this for a long, long time…worth every moment suffered in that miserable school.

He didn’t have much of a response because we all knew the answer was ‘yes’.

'I have no further questions of this witness,' I stated as I went to take my seat.

And yes, for the remainder of my time at that school (a year and a half) I had made my mark. I overheard the teachers speaking about me many times, particularly at lunch.

When I graduated, my honors English teacher gave me a unique award ‘Most able to defend himself’.

As for the outcome of the case, it was rigged, duh.

I won."

"That Smirk Didn't Come Back For A Long Time"
"That Smirk Didn't Come Back For A Long Time"

"I had a party for my daughter at our house. There were live bands performing in the backyard. I verified with the city (a small city in NJ) that everything was legal and, a week before the party, had my daughter distribute flyers to the neighbors explaining what was going to occur.

To make a long story short, a cop showed up as soon as the music started and tried to shut the party down. He also falsely reported that I threatened him, resulting in the rest of the police force arriving with lights and sirens. I ended up with a citation, which I intended to fight.

So, the prosecutor calls, asking if I still intended to fight the ticket. The way he was talking led me to believe the aforementioned smirk was firmly planted on his face. I told him that, yes I did intend to fight the ticket, to which he replied, 'It’s your word against the police.'

I replied, that aside from the fact that he falsely claimed I threatened him, a fact established by a senior officer, I have a videotape of the entire incident. I also discovered he wrote in his report he asked the band to turn down the music and, instead the band turned it up. In fact, the band stopped playing altogether as soon as the cop showed up. Another fact established by the video. Several long seconds of silence as I figuratively wiped the smirk off his face.

'Well, I guess, this small matter isn’t worth pursuing,' he finally said.

'To the contrary,' I explained. 'You have a cop who illegally acted to break up a party and lied in an official police report. Now if he is going to do this for such a minor incident, how could you possibly rely on him to tell the truth in a serious matter?'

I’m sure that smirk I had heard didn’t come back for a long time."

She Was Finally Put In Her Place
She Was Finally Put In Her Place

"I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, because I couldn’t afford to dress like all those pampered pets. So, needless to say, some of them taunted, teased, and actually insulted me. When two of the precious girls learned that I had flown (by myself) to New Orleans and vacationed with my mom’s best friend for two months, and they’d never been out of our 'Yankee state,' they decided to one-up me by talking about their upcoming trip to Paris (Tthey didn’t mention, it was Paris, New York. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t impressed even if was France).

One day, after PE class, when we were all in the locker room, in our assigned changing area, one of the cattier witches called me over to her. I don’t even remember what her insulting remarks were, only that when she was finished spewing her hate, she said, with a very dismissive attitude, 'Well, you don’t have to stand here looking at everybody.'

And where it came from, I’ll never know, but without missing a beat and never taking my eyes from her face, I responded with, 'I’m not looking at everybody. I’m looking at you and YOU’RE nobody.'

Then I turned and walked away.

Instantly, the locker room filled with cheers, chuckles, and even some of her own catty clique, including the 'Paris duo,' were fighting to hold back the laughter. For the remainder of my time there, I was very popular and she never said another word to me."

"She's Actually Shaking, She's So Convinced"
"She's Actually Shaking, She's So Convinced"

"Back when I was in college, there was a spate of petty thefts in my dorm at Massive State University (MSU). There were various little signs up in the dorm, detailing items stolen and asking for their return on a sliding scale of niceness. One was for a fancy-schmancy TI-84 calculator.

One Saturday afternoon, I decided to move my calculus homework into the lounge. It was brighter than my room and I could spread out. I put my TI-84 in my left hand, and commenced writing out work with my right.

Soon after, another woman from my floor came in to use the fridge. She spots me and my calculator.

She zooms in, asking, 'Is that a TI-84?'

Well, it’s emblazoned 'TI-84,' so it probably is. I don’t reply. I don’t even know her name. And I don’t want to be interrupted.

'You know,' she continues in an accusatory tone, 'one of my friends here had one of those stolen.'

'Well,' I retort. 'She should be more careful of her stuff.' I know what she’s implying.

She doesn’t reply and leaves the room.

I continue working. I’m busy. The work is difficult and doesn’t come naturally to me, so I’m concentrating.

Suddenly, the door bangs open and some girl I’ve never seen comes barging in, wild-eyed and red-cheeked. She’s got the head of the dorm with her.

'Lisa,' she orders, 'I want that calculator.'

I keep working. You see, I know it’s my calculator, and I don’t feel the need to prove that.

'My TI-84 was stolen, and I want to look at that,' the girl claimed.

Keep in mind that the TI-84 is not only a common calculator but required by nearly every MSU mathematics or engineering professor on campus. I’m not exaggerating when I say there are probably thousands of them on campus, although admittedly not in our dorm.

'No,' I reply. 'You’re not going to take my calculator and declare it’s yours.' I keep working.

She has an enormous manic grin on her face. Triumphantly, she says, 'I know the serial number of my calculator. Flip that over!'

'No,' I reply evenly, as I keep writing. 'I’m not going flip this calculator over and have you claim that’s your serial number.'

She whips a piece of paper out of her pocket. 'I have it right here,' she crows, 'now flip that calculator over so I can check it.'

I really don’t see where she has any authority to search me, and I’m not really afraid of the dorm administrator either, but I know I’m right.

'Well then, start reading it off,' I say, looking up at her for the first time since she’s come in. I pull the slip of paper out of her hand to make sure something is written there. 'Out loud.' And I flip my calculator.

The first five numbers match, and she’s actually shaking she’s so convinced she’s going to catch the thief and get her calculator back.

Then she reads off the next number. No match.

She reads off the next few numbers out of sheer momentum before her voice falls off. Then her face falls. I give her a big toothy grin.

She stands there, dumbfounded. Why her friend down the hall has told her that her calculator is up in the lounge, and it isn’t.

She’s paralyzed. I give her an eyebrow raise and a head tilt. She gets redder. The dorm admin, who still hasn’t spoken, pulls her arm. She goes out much more quietly than she came in.

'You owe me an apology,' I holler after her. She turns, looks me directly in the eye, and defiantly turns her back and walks out. Big enough to make accusations, not big enough to admit she was wrong."

There Were Some Plot Holes With Her Story
There Were Some Plot Holes With Her Story

"We had recently moved into a new neighborhood and were getting to know the neighborhood. The woman across the street came over as I had invited her in for coffee. This was after we had been in the neighborhood a little over a year, though we frequently chatted outside. She actually chatted up my husband more since he spent more time outside than I did.

So she sits down and started telling me stories of how she had a lot of legal problems, and how the laws work, and how the Castle Doctrine works. She was schooling me on how the criminal laws of the State of Florida work. I don’t even know how we had gotten on the subject and the more she talked, the more I realized she was not in touch with reality.

So I started to say, 'Wait, no that can’t be right….'

And she’d cut me off, with great confidence, to tell me about criminal law. I think she had a record, I don’t know. She certainly had been in some trouble but things she was saying didn’t make sense.

For example, she said she was gardening one day and her 80-year-old neighbor came over and punched her. She called the police and they arrested HER! I asked if she had a history with this guy, if she fought back, etc. there were several more stories like that. Just not making any sense at all.

Anyway, I let her go on and on. She was so sure she was right, she had that knowing smirk that says, 'Oh yes, I know all about this.'

I took a deep breath and said 'Well, this is news to me. But we can ask my husband when he gets home. He’s been a Criminal Defense Attorney for over three decades. I’m a certified paralegal specializing in criminal law, soooooo……'

Her face was priceless. Priceless! Remember, we had been living there for over a year by then so I guess it never occurred to her that she was talking to an expert in a field she thought she knew so much about.

She couldn’t look me in the eye for months after that. It was all just very strange."

"Could Hear A Pin Drop"
"Could Hear A Pin Drop"

"Back in 1988, I took a job delivering wholesale ice in the Washington, DC area. Despite the frigid temps one winter, we were very busy with commercial orders for the local sports arenas for the Capitals, Redskins, Bullets, Hoyas, etc. We would also occasionally get orders from the larger hotels and convention centers when their own ice machines couldn’t keep up with the demand for certain events.

One freezing Sunday morning, I was awakened early at home by a frantic general manager whose ice machine had failed overnight when the pipes froze. He pleaded with me to rush a pallet of crushed ice to his hotel by 10 AM for a huge political charity event (the kind where the participants pay $25,000 per plate to hob-nob with celebrities and such). I agreed and hurried out there.

While waiting to get paid after unloading, I noticed the kitchen staff all laughing and smirking behind my back. When the chef returned with my check I asked him, 'What’s so funny? Am I missing something?'

He replied, 'No offense, but you must be the dumbest person on the planet, driving around in 10° weather with three feet of snow on the ground in the middle of winter trying to sell ice.'

As I took the check, I said, 'Nah, I’m not the one buying it.'

One could hear a pin drop. As I left I heard everyone bust out laughing even harder, and the chef yelling at them all to shut the heck up."

She Had Nothing To Say
She Had Nothing To Say

"My beloved great aunt was dying. She was holding on in her misery for her grandson to arrive. He was a standout in medical school and her pride and joy. All day, she kept asking for him. He finally arrived and she was so glad to see him. I was tremendously relieved, as I did not see how she could continue her vigil for him. She was in great pain.

The problem was this: auntie lived in a beach community that was quite popular with college kids. Her grandson brought this obnoxious fellow medical student with him. She was the one who made him so late — it was almost evening by now. She insisted on spending the day at the beach, and being the sweet guy he was, he didn’t disappoint her. They had been playing in the waves all day. Clearly, she was there to enjoy the resort, not to be part of a family death watch. My solemn attitude at the deathbed of someone I dearly loved, was clearly not in her agenda. She scoffed at me.

I made it clear that my great aunt had been waiting all day to see her grandson. She had been quite anxious about it. The girl did not take the hint and was sitting sullenly in the hospital room, tapping her foot, ready to be entertained at dinner and the bars.

I asked her to follow me out of the hospital room, saying my auntie needed some privacy with her grandson. I noted that she had intimated that she had some things she wanted to share with him. I almost pulled her by the arm to get her out of the room.

She was furious. She said, 'Well, you don’t understand. We are going to be doctors and death just isn’t a big deal for us. We are used to it.'

I replied, 'That may be the case, but I feel certain that death is a unique experience for Danny’s grandmother.'

She just sputtered at me. No comeback."