I am a single mom of three kids and work as a cashier at the grocery store to make ends meet. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and allows me to support my family. Yesterday, during my shift, a well-dressed mother with two teenage children came through my line. They were all decked out in expensive designer clothes, clearly showing off their wealth.

As I started scanning her groceries, the woman looked at me and said with a sneer, “What’s with the face, dear? Why aren’t you smiling at a customer?”

I had been working all day and apparently hadn’t noticed that my expression had become a bit grim. “I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile.
But she wasn’t satisfied. She laughed loudly and said, “I’d have that face too if I worked as a cashier. Your face looks mean because you earn so little, loser.”
Her words stung, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. All the other customers in line looked shocked, their eyes darting between us. I could feel their pity, and it made me want to disappear. I swallowed my pride and continued ringing up her items, trying to ignore the humiliation.

Just as I handed her the last bag, karma took swift revenge for me. The woman’s expensive handbag, which she had carelessly placed on the counter, tipped over, and the contents spilled out. Among the scattered items was a packet of luxury face cream that wasn’t on her bill.

“Ma’am, I think you dropped something,” I said, pointing to the cream.

She glanced down, her face turning pale. “Oh, um, that must have slipped in by mistake,” she stammered, hurriedly trying to gather her things.

One of the other customers, an older gentleman who had been watching the whole scene, spoke up. “That’s an expensive item. Looks like she was trying to steal it.”

The woman’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “How dare you accuse me! I don’t need to steal!”

The manager, alerted by the commotion, came over and asked what was going on. I explained what had happened, and the manager looked sternly at the woman. “Ma’am, we take theft very seriously here. I’ll need to see your receipt and all the items in your bags.”

The woman, now completely flustered, handed over the receipt and allowed the manager to check her bags. Sure enough, the luxury face cream wasn’t on the list. The manager made a note of it and asked her to pay for the item or leave it behind.

She angrily paid for the cream, her face red with embarrassment, and stormed out of the store with her children in tow. The other customers in line gave me sympathetic smiles and a few words of encouragement.

“That was uncalled for,” said the older gentleman. “You’re doing a great job. Don’t let people like that get you down.”

I smiled, genuinely this time. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

As I continued my shift, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of justice. The woman’s attempt to belittle me had backfired spectacularly. In the end, karma had taken its revenge, reminding her that respect and decency are far more valuable than wealth and designer clothes.