The office I work at has a program where, if an employee wants to bring in a piece of art to display (either something they worked on themself, or just something they enjoy), they can work with the facilities team to find a place to display it. This works out well, as it makes the office look better, and facilities don’t have to spend as much on artwork and such, rather than things like ergonomic chairs and desks. A couple of my coworkers are actually artists on the side, and they have been allowed to post QR codes linking to their shops next to their pieces, which has helped their businesses.

A new hire heard about this program, and he brought in a small art piece that took the form of a coffee mug that, through the use of cleverly positioned wires, was caught in the middle of being smashed by a rubber ball hitting it. It was very well done and ended up displayed on a small side table in one of the break rooms.

Then, a few days later, his sculpture was found on the floor of the break room, smashed. There wasn’t a camera in the break room itself, but there was one in the corridor outside, so that camera was checked, and they found an older lady who actually worked on a different floor walking into the break room the previous evening and then hurrying out right afterwards.

She was called in, and, when asked, didn’t even bother trying to deny that she’d broken the sculpture. Instead, she launched into a loud rant about how the sculpture was ‘mocking her’.

It turns out, she was going through a divorce, and one of the reasons her ex-husband was leaving her was due to her having a habit of throwing things at him and their kids, particularly dishes, whenever she got upset.

So, she had heard about the sculpture from some others in the building and had concluded that it was a deliberate ‘taunt’ against her, mocking her for losing her marriage, and so she decided to track it down to break it.

When she was told that she’d need to pay the cost of repairing/replacing it, she chose to quit on the spot instead. So, now she gets to go job hunting while also going through a divorce.

As for the sculpture, the guy who made it was able to fix it up with more wires and some glue. And then, as a final change, he carved the words “Didn’t Get The Joke” into the rubber ball that was striking the mug.

I’m a server at a fine dining restaurant that’s pretty popular in my city. One evening, a couple, who we later found out were visiting from Texas (we think), came in for dinner. At the start of the meal, they seemed like a great couple: super friendly and really excited to be there. They opted for one of our tasting menus with the optional wine pairing and an added course. Altogether, their tab came to around $800 before tip.

The evening goes by, they’re enjoying everything, and everything is going great. They love the food, they love the sommelier, and they seem to love me. At one point in the evening, I get a little busy, so I don’t notice right away that the husband has gotten up from the table. When I check on their second-to-last course, I notice he’s not at the table. I stop by to check in with the wife to see if he stepped away for a call or something.

Me: “Did he step out to take a call?”

Wife: “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Normally, I’m good at keeping my shock in check, but in almost ten years in the industry, this is the first time that’s ever happened to me. Trying to keep the mood light and salvage this lady’s evening without getting overly personal, I try to make a joke:

Me: “So… do we hate him now or what?”

Wife: “Well, he’s my husband, so that’s not really an option.”

Folks, my jaw hit the floor. At this point, the wine pairing has started to hit her, and she’s clearly panicking. To her credit, she keeps it together enough that if you weren’t right next to the table, you wouldn’t notice. She even goes through the rest of the tasting solo; major props to her.

After she finishes the meal, we try to do everything we can to turn the night around. We even offer to pay for her Uber since her husband ditched her, but she refuses since their hotel is an hour away from the restaurant. She decides to sit at the bar while waiting for her car. She asks for a shot of tequila, and we’re more than happy to oblige because all of us are still flabbergasted.

Then, as she’s waiting, her husband finally calls her to say he’s cut the vacation short and is on his way to the airport. Her car pulls up right as she’s telling us this, and the last thing we hear from her is:

Wife: “Well, now I have to go figure my life out.”

For the rest of the night, this is all any of us can talk about. We’re collectively trying to Nancy Drew our way into figuring out what happened at that table to cause this. All at once it hits us: we probably just witnessed the initiation of a divorce.

And one final note: the lady paid the whole $800 tab and still tipped over 20%. Absolute bada**.

I work for a bank in their call centre, handling general telephone banking queries and transactions. I am on a call with a gentleman in his fifties.

Caller: “My fiancée and I have been going through my banking over the years, and I’m sure I had accounts with you. I want to close them as I don’t use them.”

We manage to complete security:

Me: “I can see here that we have two accounts, one individual and another in joint names.”

Caller: “Close them both and send me the cheques.”

Me: “Unfortunately, the joint account requires two signatures to complete any transaction at all; you would have to contact the other account holder, and both go to the branch either separately or together to request the closure.”

Caller: “That’s ridiculous! This is my money; I want it now!”

Why people think that this will make us change our minds and break the rules is beyond me

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, this is the only way. Are you still in contact with this account holder?”

Caller: “Of course not! That was another wife and another life!”

Yes, they really were his exact words!

Me: “Would you be able to contact them?”

Caller: “I don’t even know who it is!”

He then proceeded to reel off the names of five different women that he’d been married to. When I confirmed he’d finally gotten the correct name:

Caller: “Oh, forget it, no amount of money is worth talking to that b*** again after what I did  to her!” *Click.*

Top tip, if you’re going to get divorced, please sort out your joint accounts whilst still speaking!

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Cruelty (No injuries, happy ending!)

I worked in a veterinary clinic when I was in high school. This story is a mix of heartbreaking and wholesome.

A woman came in with two perfectly healthy cats that she wanted euthanized. The story goes that she was getting divorced, and they couldn’t agree on who got the cats. So, the woman decided the best thing for the cats was to put them down because she couldn’t let them live without her, nor could she let her soon-to-be-ex-husband be happy with the furballs.

The vet accepted the cats and made her pay in advance for the euthanasia. She walked out immediately after paying, having no intention of even staying with them in their last moments. She, of course, didn’t love them. They were objects to dispose of, just to hurt her ex.

Unfortunately, we had no way of knowing who her husband was as she wasn’t a client of ours. Though we put the word out to animal shelters everywhere we could think of, the poor man was probably told that they were put down. He wouldn’t think to check shelters for news of his babies. Since we never heard back from the shelters, we could only hope that the man destroyed his horrible ex in court during the divorce.

Vet: *To the staff* “So, that’s the story. The cats will have to be euthanized at a somewhat later date, as my schedule is full. In a completely unrelated story, we have two cats who are available for adoption, effective immediately. The owner left a pretty generous donation to their new owners to help them restart their lives in their new home. Tell everyone you know.”

The stories of the — *ahem* — four completely unrelated cats spread through the staff quite quickly.

One of our pet groomers liked the two cats that were available for immediate adoption. The very same day the groomer took them in, both of the cats who were due to be euthanized went missing.

Darn, they must have gotten out! The little Houdinis were probably causing mischief somewhere! A very strange coincidence indeed!

Thankfully, the “donation” did help those two completely unrelated cats get a lovely cat tree and proper supplies, so I guess this story has a happy ending.

However, I still feel terrible for the ex-husband, as I’m sure his heart is still broken.

I have decided to share the final straw in my marriage with my ex-husband, which happened when the two of us went to [Famous Theme Park] with my eight-year-old son.

I happen to use a wheelchair, and navigating through crowded places can be very dangerous. For those who have never experienced it, just imagine that my head is at the level where people’s backpacks and bags can hit me. Some people try to cut in front of me instead of waiting for a second or two for me to pass, assuming I can just stop on a dime. I have collided with people’s legs and nearly had them fall on top of me several times.

My ex-husband is an impatient man who stands 6’2″ tall, so his strides are long and allow him to cover ground quickly. If I couldn’t keep up, he would just zoom off ahead, leaving me to struggle in his wake. He refused to slow down for me, so we would never go anywhere together. He would go ahead and then have to wait for me to catch up. Naturally, our son also couldn’t keep up, so he had to wait for both of us at the park. He saw no reason to travel at a pace that we all could maintain; he would just snap at us to stop being so slow.

We were there for ourselves, but mostly for our son, as it was his first trip. My son wanted to go on one ride, but my ex-husband wanted to go on a different one. Since we were there for my son’s enjoyment, I cast my vote in his favor, and I even tried reasoning with my ex-husband that we could go on the ride he wanted afterward.

Instead, my ex furiously stormed off to get in line for his ride, leaving us behind. He yelled over his shoulder that we could catch up when we were done being selfish.

Son: “You know what? Let him go off and be by himself.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Son: “Dad doesn’t want to lead or protect you, Mom. It’s my turn. We don’t need him.”

I was feeling a mix of sadness and pride all at once, when it suddenly hit me. My elementary-school-aged son was a better man than the one I was married to.

Instead of allowing my ex to belittle and disrespect us, we chose to go our own way. At 8 years old, my son wasn’t that tall, but he made sure people kept their bags away from my head. We enjoyed rides and had fun together, walking at our own pace. It took my ex over three hours to find us again.

My ex and I divorced a few years after that trip; it was a lengthy process, as my ex made it difficult and dragged it out.

He remarked to my son as he finally left the house:

Ex: “You’re going to be the man of the house now. Think you’re able to do that?” 

Son: “I’ve been the man of this house since you failed to be, starting when I was eight. I think I’ve got this.”

My ex later told me that those were the harshest words anyone had ever said to him.

Now, my son is sixteen. He grew up to be an amazing young man, and I am blessed to have him.

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Inspirational-Stories-Of-2025 roundup!

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