Customer Mocked Me Because I Work as a Cashier at the Grocery Store — Moments Later Karma Took Revenge for Me

When Erin’s husband’s infidelity is made public, her entire existence is altered. She unexpectedly loses her work and accepts a position as a cashier at the neighborhood supermarket. Erin has to maintain her composure and professionalism when a demanding customer enters the store.


A customer made fun of me because I work as a grocery store cashier, and shortly after, Karma exacted revenge.

At age 38, my life completely changed. Having three children, Emma (15), Jack (9), and Sophie (7), I used to work as a project manager at a mid-sized computer business, but now I work at a grocery store.

That is what took place.


Gradually, the first fractures appeared, all from my husband James.

“James, are you coming to bed?” One evening, as he sat on the couch staring at the TV without answering, I inquired.
He mumbled, “In a bit,” without opening his eyes. “Just need to finish this.”

“What do you finish? The television is off.”

With a sigh, he stroked his hair and then lay down flat.

“Erin, work stuff. Is there anything we can’t accomplish now?

“He mumbled, “In a bit,” without opening his eyes. “Just need to finish this.”

“What do you finish? The television is off.”

With a sigh, he stroked his hair and then lay down flat.

“Erin, work stuff. Is there anything we can’t accomplish now?”

I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it because of the craziness of work and family. Then, one heartbreaking night, I realized the reality. James was in a romantic relationship.

“How could you do this to us?” Tears were running down my face as I sobbed. “To the kids?”


James could not look up into my eyes.

“Erin, I apologize. I had no intention of it going this far.”

The already tremendous pressure at work was compounded by the stress of the divorce. The pressures of my career grew intolerable as I attempted to manage the emotional debris in my house.


My once-prideful focus and sharpness were eroding, and I was finding it difficult to keep up with the unrelenting speed of my work.

“Erin, please remember that I need those reports by the end of the day,” Lisa, my manager, said kindly. “I know things are tough right now, but we need to stay on track.”


“I’m trying, Lisa,” I murmured in a trembling voice. “It’s just… everything is falling apart.”

It all got to be too much. Even though Lisa understood my predicament, she was powerless to intervene when my output collapsed.

With grief in her eyes, Lisa replied, “Erin, we have to let you go.” “I wanted to hold on to you, but I was powerless over this one. I truly apologize.”

My job loss felt like the last straw in a never-ending string of bad luck. The emotional toll of my divorce was exacerbated by the financial pressure.


I realized that in order to provide for my kids, I needed to find a new work as soon as possible, but it was difficult to locate one that would accept my background and pay.

“Will we be okay?” One morning, when I was making toast for Emma and her siblings, she asked me.


I replied, “We will.” “We’ll be all right. I have an interview today, and I think we will be a good fit. I swear, sweetheart. Please stop worrying about us.

Emma cut into her toast and remarked, “But I am worried, Mom.” “I don’t want to live with Dad.”


My heart hurt. I could not disappoint them.

I applied for a job as a cashier at a nearby grocery store out of desperation.

“Erin, look, I know this isn’t what you’re used to,” Mr. Adams, the manager, said to me. However, this employment is steady. We are able to provide you with financial security.”


“I understand,” I replied. “It’s just that I have three children to care for, too.”

“I get it,” he replied. “In three months, we can consider a raise.”


Although the adjustment was challenging, it gave me the opportunity to support my kids in a manner that I wasn’t able to previously. My ability to attend school functions, assist with schoolwork, and put my children to bed each night was made possible by the regular hours.

Sophie exclaimed, “I like this, Mom,” as I put her to sleep. “You’re not always with your laptop.”


Jack murmured, “I agree,” from his corner of the space. “Mom’s always here now.”

However, even when things appeared to be going well, life would constantly throw me a curveball.

It was not like yesterday. A mother entered our grocery with two teenage children. She and her two kids were both dressed in high-end designer clothing.


I began automatically ringing up her purchases when she approached the register. I was worn out and ready for the day to be finished. My goal was to arrive home in time for my kids’ pizza night.

“Dear, what’s up with the face? Why do you not greet your customers with a smile? She tapped her long nails on the counter and asked me.

I had neglected to wear a smile during the entire day because I had been working.

I apologized to her while I was removing items from the trolley.


I gave her a smile and carried on with my work.

Naturally, though, things didn’t stop there.

If I were employed here, I too would have that face. You don’t make enough money, which is why your face looks mean. That explains your misery.

The other patrons in the queue appeared taken aback, and I flushed with shame.

My employment did not shame me; rather, I felt thankful for it. But I wanted to curl up into a ball because of her crude remark.


She let out a loud cry as soon as one of her children, who was still gripping his iPhone, fell into the cart. I was about to give her the last bag. With a loud thud, the cart overturned and all the items spilled onto the floor, smashing glass.

Expensive wine bottles were leaking onto our floor, soaking through the fine cheese and bread.


The woman was so mortified that her face lit up red as she yelled at her child.

“Hey, Michael! Be mindful of your actions! You awkward fool!” she yelled.

He murmured, “I’m sorry, Mom,” pocketed his phone, and glanced around.


Keeping my cool, I bowed down to assist in picking up the undamaged goods.

I mutely remarked, “It’s okay, accidents happen,” while the other patrons saw the incident.

As the mom and her kids hurried to grab their belongings, Mr. Adams came over.


“Ma’am,” he said courteously. You appear to be in need of assistance. The broken products can be replaced, but you will be responsible for their cost.

With a huff, the woman gave me her credit card, clearly upset now.

“There,” she murmured.

When I tried to swipe it, the transaction was rejected. I gave it another go, but the outcome was the same.


I tried to seem professional as I said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card has been declined,” but deep down I was kicking myself because I felt bad for the woman.

“That isn’t feasible,” she declared. This has to be an error. I’ll give someone a call to resolve this.”


She pressed the phone to her ear and dialed a number, but nobody answered. She kept trying, but the person on the other end remained silent.


Behind her, the expanding queue of patrons started to whisper and exchange glances; some shook their heads in shock, while others became agitated.

A regular customer, Mrs. Jenkins, moved ahead to take her place in line with her milk and bread.

She smirked and remarked, “Looks like karma has its own way of working things out.” “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before being so rude to others.”


The woman was made to wait at the store because she had no method to pay and no one was returning her calls.

Mr. Adams said, “I can get you a chair, ma’am.”

“Not at all. She was obviously ashamed, but she said stiffly at the end of my counter, “I’m fine.”

Her children were sitting glumly close by as she waited for a minimum of sixty minutes, and the shame was evident.


“Can’t we call a cab and go home?” The daughter complained. “My phone battery is about to die and I have things to do.”

The woman gave an eye roll.

“Alright, Gemma, enough.” “What you have to do doesn’t matter to me. We’ll hold out for your dad.


The father eventually appeared, looking dignified in his suit. He instantly became enraged with his children.

“How could you possibly be so reckless? His voice rang out, “Do you know how much this is going to cost?” “No allowances for you both.”


“And you,” he turned to face his spouse. “Is it so difficult for you to go shopping without making a scene? I instructed you to leave it to the cook for this reason.”

He chastised them as the whole store looked on. He nodded to me and handed me his card.


“Please, make it quick,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

He did not wait for his family to follow, grabbing the bags and storming out of the store when I was finished.


Mr. Adams praised Erin for the graceful way she handled it. “Go on, get your things and get home to your kids.”

I was going to; I had a pizza party to attend.


How would you have responded in that situation?

Here’s another story for you if you liked this one.


Samantha chooses to treat herself to an expensive pair of diamond earrings as a way to commemorate reaching a significant professional milestone. She just wants to make him look bad, though, while she and her husband go out with their friends and Ross gets all the praise. Is she going to do it? More importantly, will she look back and regret it?







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