When my 16-year-old son offered to spend the summer taking care of his disabled grandmother, I thought he’d finally turned a corner. But one night, a terrifying call from my mother shattered that hope.
“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered through the phone, barely a breath.
A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Her words were sharp with fear, a tone I’d never heard from her. My stomach knotted. Before I could respond, the line went dead.
I stared at my phone, disbelief mixing with shock. My strong, fiercely independent mother was scared. And I knew exactly who “him” was.
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
My son had always been a handful, but lately, he’d crossed new lines. At sixteen, he was testing every boundary he could find. Rebellious, headstrong, a walking storm of attitude and defiance.
I remembered him coming home from school, slinging his backpack down with a certain grin that I didn’t recognize. “I was thinking about going to Grandma’s this summer,” he’d said. “I mean, you’re always saying she could use more company. I could keep an eye on her.”
A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels
My first reaction was surprise and a little pride. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, becoming responsible. But looking back now, as I sped down the darkening highway, his words nagged at me in a way they hadn’t before.
I blinked in surprise. “You… want to go stay with Grandma? You usually can’t wait to get out of there.”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I’ll help take care of her,” he said. “You could even let the caregiver go, Mom. Save some money, you know?”
The more I drove, the more pieces of our recent conversations slipped into place in my mind, forming a picture I didn’t like.
“People change,” he’d shrugged with a strange smile. Then he looked up at me with a half-smile. “I mean, I’m almost a man now, right?”
A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels
I brushed it off then, thinking maybe he was finally growing up. But now, that smile felt… off. Not warm or genuine, but like he was playing a part.
As I drove, I remembered other details, things I’d dismissed at the time. A week into his stay, I called, wanting to check on my mother directly. He’d answer, cheerful but too fast, like he was steering the call. “Hey, Mom! Grandma’s asleep. She said she’s too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll tell her you called.”
A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik
Why didn’t I push harder?
My mind raced back to how it all began. It had been just the two of us since his father left when he was two. I’d tried to give him what he needed to stay grounded. But since he hit his teenage years, the small cracks had started widening.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
The only person who seemed to get through to him now and then was my mother. She had a way of disarming him, though even she admitted he was “testing her patience.”
I dialed my mother’s number again, willing her to pick up. My thumb tapped the screen anxiously, but still, nothing.
The sky darkened as the houses became sparse, her rural neighborhood just up ahead. With every mile, my mind replayed his too-smooth excuses, his charming act.
A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik
As I pulled up to my mother’s house, a chill ran through me. I could hear music blasting from two blocks away. Her lawn, once so tidy, was now overgrown, weeds tangling around the porch steps. The shutters had peeling paint, and the lights were off, as though no one had been home in weeks.
I stepped out of the car, feeling disbelief twisting into a sick anger. Beer bottles and crushed soda cans littered the porch. I could even smell cigarette smoke drifting out through the open window.
A littered porch | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I reached for the door, pushing it open.
And there, right in front of me, was chaos.
Strangers filled the living room laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. Half of them looked old enough to be college kids, others barely looked out of high school. My heart twisted, a mixture of fury and heartache flooding through me.
A furious woman | Source: Pexels
“Where is he?” I whispered, scanning the crowd, disbelief giving way to a focused rage. I shouldered through people, calling his name. “Excuse me! Move!”
A girl sprawled on the couch glanced up at me, blinking lazily. “Hey, lady, chill out. We’re just having fun,” she slurred, waving a bottle in my direction.
“Where’s my mother?” I snapped, barely able to hold back the edge in my voice.
A shouting woman | Source: Pexels
The girl just shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Haven’t seen any old lady here.”
Ignoring her, I continued through the packed room, shouting my son’s name over the blaring music. I looked from face to face, my heart pounding faster with every step. Every second that passed made the house feel more like a stranger’s, more like a place my mother would never allow, let alone live in.
Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” I called, my voice desperate as I reached the end of the hall, near her bedroom door. It was closed, the handle faintly scratched, as though it’d been opened and closed a hundred times in the last hour alone.
I knocked hard, heart racing. “Mom? Are you in there? It’s me!”
A weak, trembling voice replied, barely audible over the noise. “I’m here. Please—just get me out.”
A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney
I felt a wave of relief and horror as I fumbled with the handle and threw the door open. There she was, sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed, and I could see dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, Mom…” I crossed the room in a heartbeat, falling to my knees beside her and wrapping my arms around her.
An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik
Her hand, frail but steady, clutched mine. “He started with just a few friends,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I told him to stop, he got angry. He… he said I was just getting in the way.” Her voice wavered. “He started locking me in here. Said I was… ruining his fun.”
A sickening wave of anger surged through me. I’d been blind, foolish enough to believe my son’s promise to “help out.” I took a shaky breath, stroking her hand. “I’m going to fix this, Mom. I swear.”
An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik
She nodded, gripping my hand, her own fingers cold and trembling. “You have to.”
I walked back to the living room, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. And there was my son, leaning against the wall, laughing with a group of older kids.
When he looked up and saw me, his face went pale.
“Mom? What… what are you doing here?”
A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“What am I doing here?” I echoed, my voice steady with a calm I didn’t feel. “What are you doing here? Look around! Look at what you’ve done to your grandmother’s home!”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I saw his mask slipping. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to freak out.”
“Get everyone out of here. Now.” My voice was steel, and this time, it cut through the noise. The whole room seemed to freeze. “I’m calling the police if this house isn’t empty in the next two minutes.”
A furious woman | Source: Freepik
One by one, the partiers shuffled out, murmuring and stumbling toward the door. The house cleared out, leaving only broken furniture, empty bottles, and my son, who now stood alone in the wreckage he’d made.
When the last guest was gone, I turned to him. “I trusted you. Your grandmother trusted you. And this is how you repay her? This is what you thought ‘helping’ looked like?”
A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney
He shrugged, a defensive sneer twisting his face. “She didn’t need the space. You’re always on my case, Mom. I just wanted some freedom!”
“Freedom?” My voice shook with disbelief. “You’re going to learn what responsibility is.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of each word. “You’re going to a summer camp with strict rules, and I’m selling your electronics, everything valuable, to pay for the damage. You don’t get a single ‘freedom’ until you earn it.”
An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“What?” His bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “And if you don’t change, you’re out of the house when you turn eighteen. I’m done with excuses.”
The next day, I sent him off to camp. His protests, his anger all faded as the summer passed, and for the first time, he was forced to face the consequences.
A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels
As I repaired my mother’s house that summer, I felt the pieces of our family begin to mend. Bit by bit, room by room, I cleared the broken glass, patched up the walls, and held on to hope that my son would come home a different person.
After that summer, I saw my son start to change. He grew quieter, steadier, spending evenings studying instead of disappearing with friends.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels
Small acts like helping around the house, and apologizing without being prompted became routine. Each day, he seemed more aware, and more respectful, like he was finally becoming the man I’d hoped for.
Two years later, I watched him walk up my mother’s steps again, head bowed. He was about to graduate school with honors and enroll in a nice college. In his hand was a bouquet, his gaze sincere and soft in a way I’d never seen.
A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, his voice thick with regret. I held my breath, watching as the boy I’d fought to raise offered her a piece of his heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Father-in-Law Humiliated a Waiter, but Karma Struck When He Least Expected It
Greed led my father-in-law to cause a ruckus in a restaurant, leaving tension and strife in his wake. However, little did he know that his ego was about to be humbled when an unexpected twist arose from the karma of his actions. What started as a man trying to get his way turned into him learning a valuable life lesson that had continually eluded him.
At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I’ve always believed in karma. You know, the idea that what goes around, comes around. But never in my wildest dreams did I expect to witness it unfold so vividly and immediately as it did one evening with my father-in-law (FIL), Benjamin.
This man, bless his heart, operates under the assumption that the universe, with all its cosmic might, revolves around him and is essentially supposed to cater to all his needs and wants. And on this particular day, karma decided to give him a reality check.
Let me paint the picture: My husband, Sam, and I, Linda, were dining out with him at a local restaurant Benjamin claimed to be the “best in the state.” He’s the kind of guy who orders as if preparing for an impending food shortage—four burgers, fries, the works!
As our patient waiter returned to the kitchen after bringing us our food, my FIL discreetly set aside one burger, a minor detail that would later unravel into an epic tale of instant karma.
We watched in shock as Benjamin erupted like a volcano at the returning waiter, disbelief and indignation painting his face upon realizing there was a “missing” burger. “I ordered four burgers. Why are there only three?!” he bellowed across the table, attracting unwanted attention.
The waiter, a paragon of patience, politely assured him, “I made sure I put them all in the bag, sir.”
“Are you blind?! This is only three!” His voice, dripping with condescension, cut through the hum of restaurant chatter.
At this point, I was ready to say something to defend this poor woman who was just trying to do her job, but my husband knew his father would just turn his fake rage on me and make a bigger scene. So, knowing I couldn’t stand for anyone being mistreated, he grabbed my hand lightly to urge me not to say anything.
I trust Sam’s instincts, especially when it comes to his father, so I pulled back and settled into my chair, watching the drama unfold.
Seeing that Benjamin was one of those unreasonable consumers who believed they were always right, the waiter apologized. She said, “Sorry, Sir. I’ll get you another one,” even though it was clear from her reaction that she was quite certain she’d brought all four.
The innocent woman walked away to get a fifth burger for my greedy FIL, and we sat looking at him with disgust but chose to say nothing to avoid inflaming the situation further. The waiter’s solution seemed to satisfy Benjamin momentarily, his smirk spreading across his face like a dark cloud.
Little did he know, the universe was about to serve him a HUGE slice of humble pie!
Fast forward to our arrival home, and the smugness quickly faded into sheer panic. My FIL’s face turned white as a sheet when he realized his wallet was missing! The atmosphere thickened with tension as he frantically searched, his mind racing back to the restaurant.
My husband and I exchanged knowing glances, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.
In a twist of fate, my FIL, driven by desperation, called the restaurant, only to have the same waiter answer! The calm in her voice as she confirmed finding his wallet was almost palpable! But there was a major twist to the news he hadn’t expected…
The waiter informed him that the restaurant had a peculiar policy, one my FIL had always ridiculed on the walls and menus of the establishment, stating that any lost items unclaimed within an hour would be donated to charity
The realization hit him like a freight train! He quickly dropped the call and filled us in, “I think they gave away all my money, we need to go back!” I am not going to lie, seeing him all distressed and panicky left me feeling like justice was served, but it was only the beginning!
We rushed back to the restaurant, only to be met with the ultimate irony. The waiter, now wearing a grin of victory, handed him an envelope from the charity organization, thanking him for his “generous donation,” before pouring him a “complimentary drink.”
Inside were receipts detailing how the money from his wallet provided meals for several homeless individuals that evening!
Silence enveloped him, a rare moment of humility overtaking the usual pomp and bluster. My husband took this moment to gently address his father’s behavior, igniting a heartfelt discussion about respect, gratitude, and the ripple effect of our actions.
“Dad, you know what you did to that waiter was wrong, and it’s probably why you forgot your wallet at the restaurant,” he told him when we got to the safety of the car. “You always have this idea that you can do anything you want and there won’t be consequences,” Sam continued.
With tears in his eyes, he added, “You know that’s part of the reason why Mom isn’t with us today.”
What my husband was referring to was how Benjamin ended up living with us because his wife, Sam’s mother, divorced him and took everything. My FIL repeatedly cheated on Diana, a sweet and loving woman who would’ve given the world to Benjamin.
When she finally got tired of his entitlement, she took him to the cleaners in court, sharing a folder and footage of years of private investigations she’d done on her husband to prove his guilt. She’d known throughout his marriage about his infidelity but only confronted him once or twice, where he pompously told her
However, he definitely “answered” to her when she filed for divorce and won everything before selling it all and relocating to another country. Only Sam and I had contact with her via texts and sometimes video calls.
It was a painful yet cathartic experience for all, especially for my FIL, who had never acknowledged facing the consequences of his entitlement in such a direct and immediate way. The incident at the restaurant and Sam’s heartfelt confrontation marked a turning point, not just for my FIL but for our family as a whole.
The lesson from karma was a clear and profound one that led the man who once embodied entitlement and arrogance to vow to change. He began a journey of volunteering and connection with those he had overlooked—the homeless people who’d benefited from his loss.
Our family dinners, once tense affairs, transformed into sessions of meaningful conversation and laughter. My FIL, previously the source of strife, became the catalyst for unity, embodying the transformative power of kindness and empathy.
So, there it is: A story of how a misplaced wallet and a “missing” burger taught us all the invaluable lesson that no act of kindness, no matter how small, goes unnoticed by the universe. Karma, in its most poetic form, reminded us that humility and compassion pave the path to true fulfillment. And for my FIL, it was a lesson learned not a moment too late.
While Linda’s story about how karma finally knocked some sense into her FIL shows how sometimes it takes time for people to get the message, here’s another story that will make you halt before doing something stupid that you’ll regret later.
Sarah’s Story about Bad Karma against Her Dad That Will Make You Think Twice before Acting Out
In a classic tale of dinner drama turned karma jackpot, a Reddit user, let’s call him John, recounts a meal out with his then-fiancée, Sarah, and her less-than-stellar dad. Picture this: a cozy restaurant scene, our couple, and the dad who’s had a history of favoring his new family over Sarah.
As the night winds down, Dad offers to foot the bill, a gesture that seems nice until Sarah’s request for a to-go box for her leftovers sparks his snide remark about wasted fridge space. John, ever the knight in shining armor, steps in,
But, oh, does that ruffle Dad’s feathers! He throws a fit, tossing the bill at John and storming out with a dramatic “FINE!” Poor Sarah’s caught in the middle, upset at John for stirring the pot. Now, here’s where the universe decides to spice things up.
While waiting for the bill, tensions high and Dad lurking outside, the waiter reveals they’re in the middle of an “every bill’s a winner” contest. Usually, it’s a free drink or appetizer on the line, but not tonight. Tonight, John and Sarah hit the jackpot – a trip for four to sunny Florida, all because karma decided Dad’s departure was the perfect moment for a grand prize win!And so, our couple learns that sometimes, standing up for your loved ones not only brings you closer but might just land you a vacation in the process. As for Dad, well, let’s hope he’s learned something about kindness and maybe, just maybe, he’ll get a postcard from Florida. For those enjoying the swiftness of karma, there are four more stories like Sarah’s included here!
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