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by Josh Board, Rancho Peñasquitos
I used to work on a morning show for Magic 102, a former classic rock station here in San Diego. I usually got to work before the other DJs, and I’d spend a few minutes talking to the overnight jock. One morning he was asking me questions about a DJ that worked with us. I thought it was a little unusual because we’d never talked about this person before. We usually just talked about basketball or the weirdos that call in at 2:00 a.m. requesting things we’ve never heard of. Usually songs from local bands they’re in or some obscure live Deep Purple tune that was only released in Guam.

Well, when I went to my mailbox, I saw a personal note from this DJ he had just asked me about. I thought it was a weird coincidence, but then it hit me. Here’s a DJ that works overnight, the one time nobody else is around. Maybe he was playing Zeppelin’s “Moby Dick,” and during the ten-minute drum solo, he went looking through other people’s boxes reading their notes. So I asked him if he looked at the stuff in my box, and he said no. But he hesitated just long enough to make me realize he actually had. So I pressed him a little, and he admitted it, giving some lame excuse about thinking my box was his. I really didn’t mind that much, until I realized — nobody really has privacy from this guy.

We had a boss who typed memos all the time, so I decided to get revenge by typing a fake memo — complete with a bogus signature of my boss. It basically said, “We are going to fire ‘Jerry’ next week, but we would prefer he quit on his own. I know that you’re usually the first person to see him in the morning, so why don’t you tell him to send résumés out because there isn’t much job security in radio. Make sure you’re very subtle…”

After I typed the memo, I put it in my own box. I figured, if he didn’t look in my box, he wouldn’t see it, and no harm done. If he is nosy again, he’ll be s*%#ing bricks. When I came in the next morning, I made the usual small talk and went to see the messages in my box. After I re-read my bogus memo, I started tearing it up in front of the trash can. Jerry said, very innocently, “What’s that?” I acted nervous, purposely, saying, “Oh, that. It was nothing.” I walked into another studio, and he followed me. He said, “So, anything interesting going on?” At this point, I assumed he had looked in my box again. I was ready to gut him. I said, “I’ve been thinking about sending out some résumés. Have you ever thought about…” Before I could finish my sentence, he said, “No. Why should I? Do you know something I don’t?” I replied, “No, but it’s always a good idea to see what jobs are out there.”

All morning I felt like the mission was accomplished. I figured I’d let him go a few days being scared, and then I’d let him off the hook. Well, when my boss got there in the morning, he yelled, “JOSH!” I walked into his office, and he was holding a copy of this fake memo, with a note from Jerry that said, “If you don’t want me to work here, tell me yourself.” My boss asked me to explain, which I did. He laughed, although I don’t think he cared for my forging his signature. Jerry never admitted to looking in my box this second time and tried to say some other DJ must have made the copy. So for the next few months, I’d occasionally leave notes in my box that said, “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you?”

by Marcelle Lige, University Heights
In 1988 I got involved with a man who was only out to use me. I cared for him so much, I was blind to the game he and his mother and family played on me. He acted like he cared for me, and his mother and other family members really acted like they cared and accepted me. He used me for everything. I gave him anything I could. His mother lied to me, saying she was receiving a large lawsuit settlement very soon and she would repay everything I did for my boyfriend, and her, and her family, plus more, because “I was like family.”

No settlement ever came, and as I got broke he no longer wanted me, and the mother had no need to be involved. I found there was no settlement ever, and this wasn’t anything unusual for them…so…I faked being pregnant. I also took them to small claims court during this faked pregnancy. I won in court, but they didn’t pay. During this fake pregnancy they kept in touch because they wanted my “baby.” I moved to Phoenix during this time. My best friend in Phoenix really was pregnant and had the baby around the time I would have been due. So I used her baby, who fit perfect because her baby was half white and half black, which would have been what ours would have been if it was real. So he and his family believed I had his son, as I would use my godson and bring him with me to San Diego, and they really believed the baby was mine. I was able to get money, and lots of baby clothes, etc., for him.

I did this for a little over a year and recovered all my money plus more and kept my godson in gifts. The money they sent was for the support of the baby, not my credit cards. They thought I was going to let them have the baby after he was a year old, then they could draw welfare…they thought! After that I thanked them for repaying my money and asked them how it felt to be lied to and used!! They didn’t like it! A family member advised me her family had done this to several trusting people before, especially using the “settlement con,” to get people to do things for them. And my ex-boyfriend only used women anyway.

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PistolPete Dec. 16, 2009 @ 12:47 p.m.

Awesome stories! I have a bit of military humor tattoed on my upper left arm that the doughboys in WWI used to get:F 'Em All But Six. Basically, in a nutshell, what that means is simple-be careful who you f over...you never know who your pallbearers are going to be. It can also be construed as a type of karmic retribution as well. You can't exactly be a dick to everyone in your life because you never know who your pallbearers are going to be.


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