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

People like that remind me I’m still useful.

That I still matter.

But last Saturday? That was something else.

It was just after 5:30 p.m., edging toward closing time. The store was quiet, just a few people wandering the aisles, the kind of hush that settles when the day is nearly done.

I had just rung up a sweet couple buying four cans of cat food, a lavender candle, and a cherry pie.

We laughed about how the cats ran the house.

And then she walked in.

She looked like money. Like the world moved out of her way. She wore a red designer coat, earrings that sparkled, and sharp nails gripping two eco-bags she tossed onto the counter without even looking at me.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, barely looking at me.

“You don’t even have imported truffles? Or Sicilian oranges? What kind of grocery store is this?”

I gave her the same smile I gave everyone — soft, practiced, and worn-in like an old cardigan.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.

We only carry a few imported products, but we have a lot of local produce. And the freshest produce at that.”

She laughed, but not kindly.

“Oh, please. I didn’t realize I’d wandered into a farmer’s market for peasants.

Although, looking at you, I probably should’ve guessed.”

Continue reading…