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

I’d never talk like that to someone working so hard. People who treat others badly must be really lonely inside.”

The words hung in the air like church bells after service — soft, but impossible to ignore.

The woman in red stiffened. Her head turned slowly toward the sound.

I watched as the color drained from her face, leaving behind a strained sort of blankness. She looked at the boy as if she couldn’t quite process what she was seeing — a child, steady and unafraid.

He stood tall, despite his too-big green jacket and the cereal box clutched to his chest. His voice hadn’t cracked.

He hadn’t looked for approval. He just… spoke, with the grace some adults will never learn.

His mother — Sara, I would later learn — rested a hand on his shoulder but said nothing, though you could feel the pride in her stillness.

The room shifted then, and something inside it softened.

Someone near the self-checkout gave a low whistle. A woman behind me murmured, “That sweet boy is going places.”

Even the teenager with the headphones gave a slow nod.

The woman in red blinked hard. Her fingers fumbled with the card machine.

When she tapped her payment, it didn’t go through at first. She tried again, quicker this time.

“That was rude,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed her bags and turned sharply.

Her heel snagged on the corner of the mat, and she stumbled, just enough to break the last of her composure.

Continue reading…