Have you ever had the past unexpectedly crash into your present? That’s exactly what happened to me while wiping tables at the restaurant I own.
It was an ordinary day, and I was covering for a pregnant waitress who wasn’t feeling well. As I worked, laughter rang out—sharp and familiar. I froze, recognizing it instantly. Heather Parker, my high school bully, had just walked in with her entourage.
Her smirk and mocking tone dragged me back to the hallways of my teenage years. “Still wiping tables? Guess that’s all you ever amounted to,” she jeered. I kept calm, refusing to rise to her bait, but her taunts escalated until my sous-chef, Jack, stepped in.
“You don’t talk to her like that,” he said, his tone steady but firm. Our team rallied behind me, showing her we wouldn’t tolerate disrespect.
Heather scoffed, threatening to “speak to the manager.” That’s when I smiled and said, “You already have. I own this place.”
Her confidence crumbled as the room erupted into cheers. Defeated, she and her friends hurried out, leaving the restaurant lighter and brighter.
“Karma,” I said with a grin, “served with a side of justice.”
