One morning at my juice bar job, an entitled customer, Miss Pompous, threw her drink at my face after I made her a juice she didn’t like. Her humiliation wasn’t enough to break me, though.
I’d been working at the health food store for a while, needing the job to support my family—my mom’s medical bills and my sister’s college expenses. But I knew Miss Pompous would be trouble. She strutted in, barked her order, and I made her carrot juice, only for her to throw it at me, claiming it was awful. She demanded a refund, and my boss apologized, blaming me.
Humiliated, I almost walked out, but my family’s needs kept me grounded. Instead, I devised a plan. I grabbed the biggest, ugliest carrot, juiced it, and made a mess, splashing juice on her expensive purse. Her shriek was worth it. She stormed out, furious.
The next day, Miss Pompous returned, demanding I be fired. But when the security footage was reviewed, it showed her throwing juice at me first. The owner sided with me, telling her to leave. As she left, my coworker Ally high-fived me. Justice was served, and I learned to stand up for myself—sometimes, karma works in unexpected ways.
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