A Rich Customer Mocked Me, Calling Me a ‘Poor Cashier’ – But Karma Came for Her Moments Later

“I’m glad someone saw you today,” she said softly.

“I think a lot of people did,” I replied.

The next afternoon, just as I was finishing my shift, Nathan and Sara came back. They didn’t buy anything this time. Nathan had a small paper bag in his hands, crinkled at the top where he’d rolled it closed.

“It’s for you,” he said, offering it up like it was something precious.

“Just a little thank you.”

Inside was a cherry red travel mug, simple but beautiful. A sticker on the side read, “You Matter.”

I swallowed hard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, looking from him to his mother.

“We wanted to,” Sara smiled. “You handled yesterday with more grace than most people ever could.

And he wanted you to know your work isn’t invisible. My father was a janitor at Nathan’s school until he finally retired recently. My son isn’t a stranger to horrible humans and how they belittle others.

I’ve spent a long time showing him that people matter.”

I blinked fast, nodded once, and thanked them both.

I didn’t cry right away. I waited until my break, when I was alone in the back room with the steady hum of the walk-in fridge in my ears. I wrapped both hands around that mug and let the tears fall quietly into my lap.

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