When an entitled customer threw her drink in my face, humiliating me in front of everyone, she assumed I’d just take it quietly. Little did she know, she was in for a surprise—and a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
That morning, I stepped into the health food store, the familiar scent of fresh produce and herbal teas greeting me. It was the start of another day at work, where I’d been earning a living for the past year. As I tied my apron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different today.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another thrilling day of juice-making?” my coworker Ally joked from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep, gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise. There was one customer who made our jobs miserable every time she came in.
We had dubbed her “Miss Pompous,” and it was a fitting name. She walked in like she owned the place, treating us like we were beneath her.
As I began my shift, I tried to put her out of my mind. I needed this job. It wasn’t just about me—it was about my family. My mom’s medical bills were piling up, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with college expenses. Quitting wasn’t an option.
A few minutes later, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot.”
My stomach dropped. “Great,” I muttered. “Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking like a countdown to disaster. Without even acknowledging me, she strutted up to the counter and barked her order.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My hands began to shake under the pressure. Finally, I handed her the juice.
She took one sip and her face twisted in disgust. “What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched. Before I could react, she hurled the entire drink at my face.
The cold juice splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I stood there, stunned, as she continued to rant. “Are you trying to poison me?” she demanded.
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “It’s the same recipe we always use,” I stammered.
“Make it again,” she snapped. “And this time, use your brain.”
My face burned with humiliation as everyone in the store turned to watch. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let her see me cry.
Just then, my manager, Mr. Weatherbee, appeared. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, though his concern seemed more for the loss of a customer than for me.
Miss Pompous turned on him. “Your employee can’t even make a simple juice! I demand a refund and a replacement.”
To my disbelief, Mr. Weatherbee began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll remake your juice immediately, free of charge.” Then he turned to me. “Grace, be more careful next time.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
“Just get the carrots, Grace,” he interrupted, “and remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I felt a surge of anger. For a split second, I wanted to throw my apron down and walk out. But then I thought of my mom and sister—I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
So, I took a deep breath and made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her win.
I met Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She thought she could buy respect with her money, that she could trample over people without consequences. Well, not this time.
As Mr. Weatherbee walked away, I reached into the fridge, bypassing the usual carrots. Instead, I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest one I could find. It was tough and unwieldy, perfect for what I had in mind.
“Just a moment,” I said, sweetly, as I fed the oversized carrot into the juicer. The machine groaned in protest before spraying juice everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and best of all, onto Miss Pompous’s designer handbag.
She shrieked, snatching her bag and frantically trying to wipe off the bright orange juice. “My bag!” she cried. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned beet red. “You ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I want your manager!”
Trying not to laugh, I gestured vaguely toward the store. “I think he’s helping a customer over there.”
As she stomped off in search of Mr. Weatherbee, I ducked into the stockroom to hide my smile. From my hiding spot, I watched as she stormed out, still clutching her dripping bag, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
I thought it was over, but I knew Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let things go.
Sure enough, the next morning, she burst into the store, demanding to see the owner. When Mr. Larson, the kind, older man who owned the store, came out, she launched into a tirade, insisting I be fired and demanding compensation for her ruined purse.
Calmly, Mr. Larson replied, “Let’s check the security footage.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about the cameras.
We gathered around the monitor as the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and the “accident” with her purse. The room fell silent.
Mr. Larson turned to her. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an assault on my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous sputtered in disbelief. “But… my purse!”
“I suggest you leave,” Mr. Larson said firmly. “And don’t come back.”
With one final glare, Miss Pompous stormed out.
Once she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “That was just an accident, right, Grace?”
“Of course, sir,” I said with a grin. “Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?”
He chuckled and walked away. Ally gave me a high five. “You stood up to her, Grace! You showed her who’s boss.”
That night, as I shared the story with my mom and sister, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just put Miss Pompous in her place—it reminded me of my own worth.
Have you ever had to deal with someone like Miss Pompous? Share your stories in the comments. Together, we can take on the “Karens” of the world!
Cashier Learns She Owns a $3.8M Business after Finding Will in Her Name — Story of the Day
An unusual letter provides the catalyst for one woman to uncover a secret kept from her for years, and receive unexpected wealth.
Gregory locked the door to the small corner shop where he’d worked as a cashier for the last twenty years. His coat was too old and thin to keep the chill from his bones as he walked home, but he smiled nonetheless. It had been another great day at work.
Gregory’s wife had never understood how he found satisfaction in what she called a low-level job. She’d left him because she felt he lacked ambition, but he still had his daughter.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Linda was standing in the foyer of the apartment block where she and Gregory lived when he entered the building. She had also recently started working as a cashier and still wore her uniform. In one hand, she held a letter.
“What have you got there, Linda?” Gregory asked as he approached her.
Linda looked up, startled. “You tell me, Dad. I’m too scared to open it.”
Gregory frowned and took the letter from his daughter. The name of a legal practice was printed on the envelope.
“Why would a lawyer be contacting me?”
Gregory shrugged. He tore the envelope open and studied the papers inside. His jaw dropped, and his fingers began shaking as he read.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s… strange. According to this letter, somebody has left you a business comprising three restaurants, and it’s worth nearly four million dollars.”
“What!” Linda snatched the letter from Gregory’s hands. “It’s got to be a scam.”
“I did this to find out whether you’re a good person.”
“There’s an easy way to find out.” Gregory leaned over to indicate the lawyer’s phone number on the letterhead.
Linda called the lawyer and arranged a meeting for the next day. Gregory accompanied her.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“This has got to be a mistake,” Linda told the lawyer when they entered his office.
“I don’t know anyone who would leave me a business.”
The lawyer shook his head. “There’s no mistake, Miss. My client, Matthew Markham, was very particular in his instructions.”
Gregory felt as though he’d been electrocuted. “Please, say that name again.”
“Matthew Markham.”
Gregory understood everything then. He hung his head and burst into tears.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
A few months earlier…
Matthew shivered with anxiety as he approached the cashier. He set down the packet of gum and stared at the man who rang it up. The nametag on his chest said ‘Gregory.’ He was the right man.
“Sir? Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Matthew realized he’d zoned out and handed the cashier a five-dollar bill. “But I do need to talk to you. It’s about Linda.”
The man looked up sharply at the customer who had just uttered his little daughter’s name. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”
Matthew shook his head. “Do you have a few minutes, please?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Matthew and Gregory arranged to meet at a diner nearby during Gregory’s lunch break. While Matthew waited, he thought over the revelations that had brought him to this point.
A few days earlier, he’d been discussing his terminal illness with a close friend, Jeremy, and lamenting that he had no heirs to whom he could leave his restaurant business.
Then Jeremy dropped a bombshell on him: Matthew had a daughter he didn’t know about. His ex-girlfriend had died in childbirth, and the baby was placed up for adoption.
Matthew immediately hired a detective to track her down. Days later, he was finally sitting down with Gregory, the man who’d adopted his daughter.
Matthew explained to Gregory that he was Linda’s biological father and then asked the question that was foremost in his mind:
“Does Linda know she was adopted?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“No, and you can’t tell her, sir.” Gregory looked at him pleadingly. “My wife left me a couple of months back, and I can’t lose Linda too. Please, don’t take her from me.”
Matthew was torn. He wanted to know his daughter but didn’t want to cause problems for the man who’d raised her. He also didn’t want to upset his daughter’s life by introducing himself when he only had a few months more to live.
“What is she like?” Matthew asked. “Is she a good person?”
Gregory smiled. “She’s an amazing person. She’s kind and treats everyone equally.”
Matthew nodded. He was starting to get an idea.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The next day, Matthew disguised himself as a poor man and went to the store where Linda worked as a cashier. He took a few essential food items to her checkout and waited while she rang them up.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said once she told him the cost.
“I can’t afford all of that. I’ve only got ten dollars.”
“Don’t worry about it, sir.” Linda smiled at him. “I’ll cover the rest.”
Matthew left the store and returned a week later. This time, he wore his finest suit. He chose several of the most expensive items in the store and again went to Linda’s checkout.
“Get out of the way,” Matthew shouted as he pushed his way to the front of the queue. “I’m in a hurry and need to be served fast.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
He set his purchases down in front of Linda and waved his hands at her. “Hurry up, girl, I’ve got an important meeting to attend.”
“Then you’ll have to tell them you’re going to be delayed.” Linda pushed his purchases aside and gestured to the woman behind him. “You’re next, ma’am.”
“I need to be served first!” Matthew exclaimed.
“That’s too bad, sir. I don’t allow anyone to push to the front of the queue, no matter how important you think you are.”
Matthew grinned from ear to ear. “I’m glad you said that.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He reached for a bouquet of yellow lilies and placed the cash to pay for them on the counter. “These are for you, Linda. My name is Matthew, and I did this to find out whether you’re a good person.”
“Do me one favor, please, and remember my name when you see these lilies.”
Present day…
“Matthew is the name of your biological father, Linda,” Gregory said. “You’re adopted.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel bad about it. Then your mother left, and I was afraid you’d leave me too if you knew I wasn’t your real father.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Linda hugged him. “I’d never do that, dad.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “As I was saying, my client bequeathed his three restaurants to you, his sole heir, when he passed away a month ago. These restaurants are each worth over a million dollars.”
“Mr. Markham also had a special request. He wanted me to give you something.”
The lawyer left the room and soon returned with a bouquet of yellow lilies, which he presented to Linda.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Linda cradled the flowers in her arms. “I understand now.” She turned to Gregory. “He came into my shop once and asked that I remember his name when I see yellow lilies.”
Gregory placed a hand on Linda’s shoulder. “I’m sure he was very proud of you, Linda, and will continue to be proud of you from heaven.”
What can we learn from this story?
Treat people equally, and you will be rewarded. Matthew was encouraged to leave his business to Linda when he saw that she was a good person.
One can find happiness in a simple life. Gregory and Linda were both happy to work as cashiers and earn an honest living.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who discovers the house she’s been cleaning for the past ten years belongs to her.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Leave a Reply