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This is a question Little Victories

I recently received a £2 voucher from a supermarket after complaining vociferously about the poor quality of their own-brand Rich Tea biscuits, which I spent on more tasty, tasty biscuits. Tell us about your trivial victories that have made life a tiny bit better.

(, Thu 10 Feb 2011, 12:07)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Roasted two of them yesterday for a bunch of friends. I won the wishbone on both. 24 hours on this is still making me smile.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 16:50, 1 reply)
Small 1890's Conservatives

(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 16:39, 2 replies)
Miraclefish's excellent post reminded me...
The day dawned when the city parking system changed completely. No longer did we have Traffic Wardens; we had Community Parking Officers, or somesuch. No obvious difference, except the uniforms were now trimmed in green rather than yellow. And they'd promised us a kinder, gentler approach to issuing enormous parking fines.

Didn't pay much attention myself, as I rode a motorbike. I parked between two cars, who were parked in metered bays but had left a wide gap between themselves. I checked that I hadn't made it difficult for either of them to get out, then wandered off.

Up ahead, I saw two shiny new Parking Assistance Operatives, or whatever they were called. I reasoned that they might be hyper-keen, this being the first day and all, so I greeted them with a cheery smile, and enquired whether my parking was up to snuff. Might as well find out the attitude to bikers that I'd have to deal with from now on, in case it was unexpectedly draconian.

"Don't tell anyone," said the becapped ticket-sensei, "But we're not allowed to touch motorcycles. You can park where you like, it's not worth the hassle for us."

And from that day on, I did!
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 16:21, 6 replies)
"You can't park your motorbike there, you idiot!"
Just last night I rocked up to Tesco to buy some food. I parked right by the shop, stepped off the bike and started taking my helmet and gloves off.

At which point I was accosted by a very irate man. "WHATTHEHELLDOYOUTHINKYOUREDOING?"
"Damn right you should be sorry! You can't park there, it's bloody dangerous, you're on the path! And what makes you so special? Why don't you park in the car park like everyone else?"
"Come on? What have you got to say for yourself?"

At which point I pointed at the floor. To the words 'Motorcycle Parking'. In two-foot high letters.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 15:41, 7 replies)
When we were invited to play the Witchfest one year, my friend remarked that there's nothing like the feeling of playing outdoors, and how right he was.
It was a beautifully warm summer evening, and we were the headline act.

After the first couple of songs, we cracked into a tribal, dance-y number, and the five or six people at the front starting having a jig, which was nice.

Then the lighting crew flicked the lights onto the whole field - and it turned out everyone was having some.

There is nothing - NOTHING - like seeing people dance to the beat you're playing.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 15:14, 3 replies)
The Jobcentre
I was unemployed for 9 months last year and so had the joy of signing on. I overheard some pretty shocking 'advice' being given out, such as 'Your problem is you're over-qualified. Try leaving bits out of your cv'(I kid you not).
My particular pet was this guy that told me, 'Well, you see, you're looking for this salary but most of the jobs these days are about £10,000 less than that.' When I eventually found my new job I made sure I saw that guy to sign off, as part of the signing off paperwork asked for my new salary. When he looked at it he said, 'That's more than I earn' so I said 'I know.'
It felt kind of nice.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:48, 15 replies)
Train door ..
The national Danish rail company is currently "upgrading" their train sets to new ones made by some Italian company. In accordance with EU regulations, these were the cheapest solution offered -- ignoring the budget overruns, missed deadlines, and technical child diseases. Still, the trains are cheap in the respect that the Italian company probably couldn't have picked a cheaper grade of plastic for the interior ..

Anyway, I had the mixed pleasure of commuting home with one of these trains on a Friday a few months back. All went well until we reached my destination, a small station. The train came to a halt, waited for a minute or two, then departed for the next station. All the while I was hammering like a lunatic to make the Italian plastic button open the Italian plastic door like it was supposed to. The train was unmanned, apparently.

When we arrived at the next station, located in a larger town, I had located both the emergency brake and the handle for emergency opening of the door. Alas, a bit too late, but useful knowledge for the next time that the machinery fails.

In spite of both complaints and expletives, they wouldn't give me a taxi back to my town. Instead I had to spend half an hour waiting for the train back.

My petty revenge? I used the emergency opening to force open the door at my station. As far as I could tell, I delayed the train by at least five minutes. Ha! :^)
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:36, 9 replies)
Evening Rush Hour
Heading out of Barcelona in the evening is rarely a quick trip, and this particular day was no exception. "They" had recently dropped the limit from 120kmph to 80kmph to "reduce accidents and drop emissions (and piss you all off)". was banging along in lane 3 at a reasonable lick and not taking the piss, but not hanging around either. From behind there comes much light flashing and horn blowing. There's traffic in front of me and in lane 2, so nowhere to go. As soon as there is space, I move right into lane 2, let the arrogant fuck behind me put his foot down and speed off, and get flashed by the speed camera that I knew about and he presumably didn't

Length? However long a Merc C class is
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:34, Reply)
This is more of a potential little victory. But if quantum physics is right, then it's both a victory and not a victory until observed
Many pubs and such have a requirement that if you're paying by card it needs to be above a certain amount. Unfortunately, this flies in the face of the Merchant Agreement that they sign in order to have access to Visa/ Mastercard network.

Being as I do enjoy not having a phlegm filled pint I'm keeping this factoid in reserve until I get really shoddy service in a pub - at which point I'm going to request a solitary pack of nuts and act like a hissy bint when they won't take my card - showing off the screengrab of the merchant agreement on my phone to whatever non-caring bartype is serving me.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:22, 14 replies)
I have a collection of ships in bottles
Oddly enough, a large proportion of them are replicas of Lord Nelson's flagship from the Battle of Trafalgar.

The punchline to this isn't even worth typing.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:12, 4 replies)
This guy messed with me this one time
So I like totally pwnd him.

It was awesome.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 14:09, 3 replies)
My maths teacher
had it in for me big time. Every lesson he would drag me out into the corridor for not doing homework etc. He said I would never amount to anything. Ha... fast forward two years and one saturday afternoon the same teacher was in Mcdonalds with his kids for lunch. I wonder if he noticed the 'extra dressing' on his big mac.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 11:03, 14 replies)
erm...like one of those mastercard ads:
Magistrate court's fine for dodging train fares for over a year: £90
Money saved due to dodging train fares: approx £2000
Swindling a coin eyed, profiteering, shit cunt of a train franchise - who in a sane world wouldn't be allowed to run a kiddies playground let alone a vital part of our country's transport infrastructure- and finishing £1910 UP: fucking PRICELESS

I obviously wouldn't do it again though your honour
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 10:00, 28 replies)
I think it qualifies as a small victory.
Not really my last laff per se.
Broke up with my "Queen of The Harpies" gf - "Painya" (you know that 1 truly fucked up relationship you have to have to understand that it was a truly fucked relationship) and the small group of (male) friends who chose her over me including my ex-business partner Dick (couple even fucked her - mmmm... slops, but already knowing what a fucked up bitch she could be my only question is "Why?").
A jizz-monkey - "Dumpster" moved in with me (gotta pay the rent... or not as was the case) who then did a runner aided by Dick.
My besty Ron-as-in-Later (that was his nom de plume) then took it upon himself to nick Dick's massive pot plant as revenge for seeing his mate so royally fucked over. He then slowly sold me large bags of that stuff over several months for a very small financial outlay (I'm talking silver coins - asked no questions, he told me no lies). Ron only told me that a few years ago. He died last Dec. I miss you mate.
So - Dick I enjoyed smoking all your pot you wanker. Cheers fuck-knuckle. I hope to god you still have the misfortune of being Pianya's friend/wanna-be fuck buddy (she never liked the fatties btw).
Names changed cause I put a shit-load of sugar in Dumpster's bike tank & happily watch the business I'd built up (without a lot of Dick's help)crumble to not-very much AFTER he'd bought me out.

WOW! That was so puerile. Nice & cathartic.
(, Mon 14 Feb 2011, 1:34, 14 replies)
I found a squashed fly in a small packet of Sesame Snaps. I sent them back expecting nothing but a note, but within a week a massive box of about 48 packs arrived at my house. A lovely gesture, but when you still have the vision of a honey-covered fly corpse in your head, it rather puts you off. I gave them away, so it was kind of a little victory...
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 23:54, Reply)
When I was a n00b.
When I started my job working for The Bank™, the guy responsible for looking after us when we first started taking calls was an arrogant twat. I soon learnt from other people in the call centre that he had said to his boss that my group should all be sacked as we "weren't up to [his] high standards". I promptly spent the next six months kicking his arse on sales, productivity and quality figures, until he moved to another department. I've now been promoted to a grade above him, and have had assurances that he's unlikely to be running a team any time soon.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 23:12, Reply)
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 22:23, 28 replies)
Sweet Transvestite
My school had a "sponsored walk" thing every year to help raise money and stuff for stuff that probably wouldn't be bought until the kids who raised money for it had left (i.e. ME). We were encouraged to do the walk in fancy dress for the hell of it, which made it more bearable.

About a week before said sponsored walk, one of my best friends decided to come out as gay (Last weeks of Year 11 and all that) and got mocked to shit by the tards you'd probably expect. Various insults pertaining to cross-dressing and being a "Batty" were thrown about, and he was the shyest person I've ever met (Took me nearly a month to get a complete sentence out of him) - the bullies just thought they could get away with it because he'd never say anything to the teachers due to his almost non-existent self confidence.

Me and a few other friends had an idea that would be A) Funny as fuck and B) Good to try and get back at the bullies in our typical passive-aggressive way, misfits that we were.

Day of the sponsored walk, the five of us turned up to school in full Rocky Horror gear. Magenta and Riff-Raff (Me) in those weird space suit outfits from the end of the film, along with Rocky, Columbia and Frank-N-Furter (My gay friend) to be precise.

The looks (and cheers) we got were fantastic, and Frank-N-Furter flirted with the bullies from afar for a laugh at first, because they hadn't realised it was a guy in that corset. So when they happily sauntered over thinking it was one of the various bints in our year, my friend screamed "SURPRISE!" in their faces as he pulled off the wig to their looks of absolute horror at what they had just done. In front of about 30 other people in the school. The rumours spread like wildfire.

I guess giving them a taste of their own harassing medicine may not be much of a victory, but it was the most fun I'd had up until then.

Note: An undisclosed amount of alcohol may have been ingested prior to leaving "Frank's" house in our get-ups, mostly in the cases of Rocky and Frank, who wanted a bit of liquid confidence. Probably explains why we were so loud that day. "Frank" is no longer as shy as he was, and his 18th a few weeks ago raised him to new levels of courage (and loudness). Good for him, I say.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 17:44, 16 replies)
For them anyway.
I posted an answer to QOTW, being very very unprofessional.

Someone called me on it so I deleted it.

0 - 1
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 17:16, 9 replies)
When I moved into my first house
Had a phone call asking for someone-or-other who didn't live there. Wrong number, but I noted the number they called from anyway. Don't ask why, I can't remember.

Fast forward a few months and a letter addressed to previous tenant drops through the door. Turns out they'd bought a washing machine on tick and given their old address (easily done, all you need are the recent utility bills as proof). Quick check with the landlord finds the new address... phone number is the "wrong number" one from a few months before!

New address details (and a mention of the phone call) straight to the out-of-pocket company, job done :-)
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 14:14, 2 replies)
The Reverse Lottery - playing for free
Select six numbers that you would have put on the Lottery had you believed in magic. Just write them down, don't buy a ticket. Then watch the live draw and feel the adrenalin as you flirt with the slim chance you could be missing out on thousands or millions! Oh no, 18, I had that! Oh shit, 24, another one like this and I could have had ten quid! You get all the excitement of the "it could be be me" without the bothersome spending of perfectly good Kit Kat money on useless bits of paper.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 13:44, 5 replies)
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 13:10, 40 replies)
Phone companies
About 6 years ago me and the Ex moved into our own place and promptly took up a phone and internet deal with UselessTwunts*. All was fine for a year or so, then out of the blue I get a bill for ~£1200.

Something is not right here.

Get straight on the phone, and explain that the bill has jumped up from ~£20 to something that is quite obviously not right. A few 'Oh, yes thats not right' from the call center guys, and I think its all sorted.

No such luck.

I get another bill saying that we are still in debt and need to pay imediatly. Call them back, and the explain that the bill is from ringing sex chat lines. WTF. Now, I know it wasnt me, and I was fairly sure my missus hadn't been chatting to some cunning linguist.

Rang the number that we had apparently been ringing - silent. Nothing. Not a sound. I explain this to UselessTwunts* and they dont budge.

Why would I ring a sex chat line with nobody there?!

So cancel, and tell them to shove the bill - Im not paying it.

Anywhooooo, cut to end of last year and I figure that it's still sitting on my credit report, im doing better now so lets just pay the damn thing off.

Now, last month I get a letter from UselessTwunts* informing me that I have overpaid by £364 and to ring to claim my refund. I do so, and the lady on the other end tells me "We will be sending your refund of £1456.80 within 30 days"

Me: "....sorry, what was that again?"
Her: "£1456.80 within 30 days"
Me: "Excellent, have a nice day." (trying to hide the growing smile on my face)

Maybe they finally realised that I didn't make sex calls to silent lines.

* Im not naming names until I see that cheque!
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 12:15, 7 replies)
I've been wracking my brain since thursday
and literally the one and only time I can ever remember coming out on top of a situation is "one time I farted on a train". How completely tragic.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 12:09, 3 replies)
Fat wanker
A few years ago I was visiting Ye Olde London Towne to see one of my friends, who had recently bought a new flat.

Said flat was somewhere in the sticks, so once I had suitably "oohed" and "aahed" at her interior decorating we decided to hop on the tube and wander around central London for a bit.

Unfortunately, there was some kind of football match going on, meaning the trains were crammed with supporters of the bald head/fat beer belly kind. Pretty sure they were wearing blue - so perhaps Chelsea? Either way I fucking hate football - sorry. Mostly because of twats like these.

So - we squeezed ourselves in right by the doors, we didn't take up much room being relatively small ladies among a sea of straining lard, who were all loudly swearing/singing/being general cunts to the rest of the commuters. Not one person dared say anything to them, despite the spilling of beer over people's clothes and the various borderline racist/sexist/homophobic things they were saying.

Being right by the doors meant that every time the train pulled into a stop we would have to press ourselves into the glass partition to let people on/off. Being extremely polite it involved lots of "oof, sorry, terribly sorry, oh that's ok, no problem" etc etc, despite being elbowed, shoved and crushed by the football supporters.

Finally, the train stopped at the destination at which most of these neanderthals decided they wanted to depart. They all heaved their heavy, sweaty frames past us, stomachs straining under their poorly fitting polyester.

I felt a sharp pain in my side as one of them, a particularly lovely specimen in his 50s with a bunch of his mates, caught me with his fleshy elbow. He barely looked at me as he said:

"Sorry lahv"

I grimaced in response, and was astounded to then hear him say in a particularly smug tone (as he stepped off the train with the rest of them):

"But you might wanna wait until everyone's off before you try getting on the train, alright lahv?".

I HATE being called "love", especially by utter fucktards like this. I also double-hated the fact that he had admonished me for something which I hadn't actually been guilty of, and I triple-hated the fact that this was after a nightmare journey with a train full of bell-ends like him.

I watched him start to saunter away with his fat friends and the rest of the fuckers. I looked at the rest of the commuters breathing a sigh of relief that they had all gone. The rage rose within me.

"ACTUALLY" - I shouted after him (my face turning red to match my sundress - this was how girly I looked that day):

"We were ALREADY on the train........YOU FAT. FUCKING. PRICK!"

The look on his face as he turned around was absolutely priceless, as was the laughter of his friends and most of the football crowd. The other commuters also started sniggering.

His face turned purple as the train doors started to close, and I gave him my girliest of waves followed by the middle finger as the train started to pull away.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 11:15, 9 replies)
Is it 5 years I've been lurking here, or more?

Anyway, for my first post, my dad died just before xmas. While we were sorting through his things we found an unpaid utility bill. I sent a grumpy letter to the power company to explain the situation and quoted their customer charter back at them. A week or so later they replied and said that they were going to write off the bill, and also that they weren't previously aware that my dad's last two addresses were part of sheltered housing accommodation complexes. They are now. Power companies are required by law to make special provision for vulnerable customers, such as older people who may only have small pensions to live off. This was too late for my dad but hopefully it'll make a difference to the 40 - 50 other people living there.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 3:21, 4 replies)
I'm spending my time doing more than trolling the B3ta QOTW message board
You know who you are and not naming you is my little victory.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 0:50, 12 replies)
My boss is a twunt of the highest order.
She's one of those in management who seemingly possesses no qualifications for her job, aside from being rather fit. She's also the type who doesn't even make an effort to do her job at all, to the point where if your job depends on her doing something, you'd better ask her while at least three other people are present to witness it. Everyone has had an idiot for a boss at some point.

The thing that makes it a little better is that she can no longer have any pictures of herself in arm's reach in our building as people (from my department, other departments, corporate visitors, and customers) who dislike her have made a habit of putting sharp, pointy object through her face in them if they can get at the picture. Push pins, sewing needles, cutlery, and so on.

I have to put up with her shit still, but there is a small bit of joy to had knowing that I'm not the only one sick of her shit. Happily, I suspect she'll soon be gone, considering the employee complaints to corporate, the customers who've told corporate they'll no longer do business with us until she's gone, and the pending harassment law suit.
(, Sun 13 Feb 2011, 0:31, 1 reply)
Sandettie reminds me of how we settle arguments Chez Quar.
If one of us thinks the other in danger of winning, we just grab the nearest object and taser the other with it. End of discussion.

TV doofers, phones, torches, computer mice, bars of chocolate, rolled-up socks - they are all valid tasers.
If we're out he will sometimes mutter 'dzzzz' under his breath to suggest the taser. If I laugh, he's won - no need even for an argument first.

I can hear him now. DZZZZZZZZZZZ.
(, Sat 12 Feb 2011, 23:20, 7 replies)

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