Children made fun of a poorly dressed girl they’d ride the school bus with, teasing her that she stunk. They were surprised to see her on TV one day, which changed how they saw her entirely.
Nikki was not like everybody else in the first grade. She was a lot shorter than her classmates and was frail and fragile.
Everybody in her class knew that Nikki only had her mother living with her and that they lived a poor life. Unfortunately, one day, things went from bad to worse.
Nikki would take the bus home every day as her mother worked two jobs to raise her. The bus driver, Mrs. Evans, was already used to Nikki riding the bus by herself and would expect her every day.
Nikki would walk to the bus stop alone every day, and no one knew why. | Source: Pexels
One day, Mrs. Evans noticed that Nikki looked very sad as she waited for the bus. She was dressed in old clothes filled with holes, runs, and stains.
“Good morning, Nikki!” Mrs. Evans greeted. “Are you alright?”
Nikki looked up at Mrs. Evans and smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Evans. Yes, I’m fine,” she said, getting on the bus. She was glad that someone spoke to her, as she was used to everybody else ignoring her.
As she boarded the bus, there were already several children inside. One girl, Martha Reeves, was a spoiled rich girl from the second grade. She spotted Nikki immediately and laughed at her clothes.
“Oh my gosh!” the young girl exclaimed. “Look at that scarecrow!” she said, pointing at Nikki.
Nikki was embarrassed that the girls in the school bus decided to make fun of her. | Source: Pexels
Nikki looked down, ashamed at the sudden attention being placed on her. She quietly sat on her seat on the last row of the bus and cried.
“Where did you find these clothes? In the garbage?” Martha asked, going closer to Nikki’s seat to tease her. As she got closer, she suddenly pinched her nose.
“Ew! You stink like a garbage bag!” she told Nikki. Martha’s friends chimed in, pinching their noses as well.
“Do you bathe or even brush your teeth?” one said, laughing.
“You can’t be serious. You can’t go to school looking and smelling like this,” Martha said, pulling Nikki from her seat. “Come on, go home! Get out of the bus and return to your filthy home,” she said, tugging at her arm.
Kids would make fun of Nikki for how she looked every day. | Source: Pexels
Nikki was in pain, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she quietly sobbed as the girls picked on her and tried to kick her off the school bus.
Then, suddenly, the girls jumped at a scream. “That’s enough! Stop torturing this poor girl,” she said.
Mrs. Evans heard everything and decided to stop the bus to stand up for Nikki. She walked towards the back as soon as she yelled and asked Nikki to sit in front, right behind the driver’s seat.
After they were dropped off at school, Mrs. Evans could not stop thinking about the incident on the bus. She decided to find out why Nikki would show up to school in dirty-looking clothes.
So, after work, she dropped by Nikki’s house. She learned the whole truth and was surprised at what she saw there. Mrs. Evans’ daughter worked in a media company. She called her daughter and immediately told her Nikki’s story.
Nikki would sit quietly at school everyday because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. | Source: Pexels
The following week, Nikki showed up at the bus stop in ragged clothes. Martha and her friends covered their noses and whispered amongst themselves. Mrs. Evans shook her head, but she was glad that the girls no longer said anything mean to Nikki’s face.
A couple of days later, there was a meeting at school for teachers, children, and their parents. Nikki and her mother did not show up. Mrs. Evans walked into the classroom and turned on the TV in the middle of the meeting.
One of the most-watched TV channels was airing a story about Nikki. It was shot by Mrs. Evans’ daughter and picked up by the station.
A famous TV station decided to cover Nikki’s story to inspire others. | Source: Pexels
When Mrs. Evans learned about Nikki’s story, she realized that the whole country could learn a thing or two about how she lived. Despite being a small and frail girl, she had a powerful character that inspired the bus driver.
Nikki grew up without a father and had learned the value of independence. Nikki’s mother fell ill, and insurance decided not to cover the treatment. So, as Nikki’s mom was bedridden, she could no longer take Nikki to school, cook her meals, or clean the house.
Nikki took on the responsibilities of taking care of herself and her mother while her mom was sick. She cleaned the house, took out the garbage, cooked food for her and her mom, washed her own clothes, and fed her mom medicine.
After watching the show, Martha and Nikki’s other classmates realized why Nikki’s clothes were always tattered and dirty – she had been taking on responsibilities even before going to school.
The TV news glorified the small yet brave and strong Nikki. Mrs. Evans revealed the real reason why she decided to turn on the TV, addressing the parents in the room.
Mrs. Evans attended the parent-teacher conference to share Nikki’s story. | Source: Pexels
“Your children mock Nikki on the bus every day. Kids, I hope the show taught you how important it is to be kind to everyone we meet every day. Everybody is fighting a battle not everyone knows about, and it’s best to be kind no matter the situation,” she told them.
Since that day, nobody mocked Nikki ever again. The kids would always say hi first and treat her with kindness by offering her snacks and drinks on the way to school.
Martha and her friends also gifted Nikki with some of their dresses so that she could wear clean clothes to school every day. Their parents also pooled money so Nikki’s mom could undergo surgery.
Soon after, the woman was able to return home from the hospital and begin working again. As they got home, they were surprised to see the director of the TV station waiting for them with a check.
“These are donations from the TV viewers moved by your story. We hope you use this to secure Nikki’s future and better your living situation,” the director said as she handed the check.
With the money, Nikki and her mom could secure her college tuition. They were also able to buy themselves a small new house and live comfortably.
What can we learn from this story?
- A Scottish proverb once said: “do not judge by appearances; a rich heart may be under a poor coat.” The children were quick to judge Nikki for how she looked, without realizing that she had been struggling to take care of herself while her mother was sick. It’s important not to judge others quickly, as we never know what they’re going through.
Share this story with your loved ones. It might inspire them and make their day.
If you liked this story, you might like this one about a school bus driver who found out one of the students riding his bus did not get off at the last stop for the reason that taught him a valuable lesson.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
An arrogant customer threw fresh juice at me – but I’m not someone to be walked over, so I gave her a lesson she’ll remember.
When an entitled customer humiliated me and hurled her drink at my face in front of everyone, she thought I’d take it lying down. What happened next was a lesson in why one should never underestimate someone in an apron.
The moment I stepped into the health food store that morning, the scent of fresh produce and herbal teas hit me like a wave. I breathed it in, savoring the familiar aroma that had become a part of my daily routine over the past year. As I tied my apron around my waist, I couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be different somehow…
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another exciting day of juice-making?” My coworker, Ally, called out from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know it! Gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But as I said those words, a knot formed in my stomach. There was one customer in particular who always seemed to go out of her way to make our lives miserable.
We called her “Miss Pompous” behind her back, a fitting name for someone who acted like she owned the place every time she walked through the door.
I tried to push thoughts of her aside as I started my shift. I needed this job, not just for me, but for my family.
My widowed mother’s medical bills weren’t going to pay themselves, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with her college expenses. This job was my lifeline, and I couldn’t afford to lose it.
As I wiped down the juice bar, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot. Brace yourself.”
My heart sank. “Great! Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to disaster.
Miss Pompous strutted up to the counter, her nose so high in the air I was surprised she could see where she was going. Without so much as a “hello,” she barked her order at me.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I bit my tongue, forcing a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I started juicing the carrots, I could feel her eyes boring into me, watching my every move like a hawk. The pressure was so intense that my hands started to shake slightly as I worked.
Finally, I handed her the freshly made juice. “Here you go, ma’am. Enjoy your drink!”
She snatched it from my hand and took one sip. Her eyes widened in disgust and her mouth curled into a sneer.
“Uh-oh, looks like someone’s about to unleash their inner drama llama!” I thought.
Before I could even react, Miss Pompous THREW the entire contents of the cup directly AT MY FACE.
The cold liquid splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin and soaking into my apron. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.
“What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched, her voice echoing through the store. “Are you trying to poison me?”
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “I… I don’t understand. It’s the same recipe we always use.”
“It’s disgusting! Make it again, and this time, use your brain!”
My cheeks burned with humiliation as I felt the eyes of every customer in the store on me. Tears threatened to spill over, but I refused to let her see me cry.
“Is there a problem here?” My manager, Mr. Weatherbee, suddenly appeared beside me, his brows furrowed in concern, though I couldn’t tell if it was for me or for the prospect of losing a customer.
Miss Pompous turned her venom on him. “Your incompetent employee can’t even make a simple juice correctly! I demand a refund and a free replacement!”
To my horror, Mr. Weatherbee immediately began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. Of course, we’ll remake your juice right away, free of charge.”
He then turned to me. “Grace, please be more careful next time. We can’t afford to upset our valued customers.”
My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
He cut me off with a sharp look. “Just get the carrots from the fridge, Grace, and help me remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. In that moment, I felt smaller than the carrot peelings in the compost bin.
For a split second, I contemplated ripping off my apron and storming out, never to return.
But then, like a snapshot, my mom’s tired smile and my sister’s hopeful eyes flashed through my mind. I needed this job. I couldn’t let them down, not when they were counting on me.
So, with a heart hardening like steel, I stood my ground.
I forced myself to meet Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to buckle under the weight of her contempt. This entitled woman thought she could buy someone’s dignity with her money, that she could stamp out someone’s self-worth just because she was rich.
Well, not this time.
I wasn’t going to let it slide anymore. I wasn’t a doormat, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my dignity be trampled on without consequence.
You know how they say you fight fire with fire? Well, this was it. A plan began to brew in my mind, bold and risky… but oh so satisfying!
As Mr. Weatherbee turned his back to the juicer and stepped away, answering a call on his cell phone, I made my move.
I casually reached into the fridge behind the counter, my fingers bypassing the neat, uniform carrots until they closed around the biggest, ugliest carrot I could find.
It was gnarled and tough… exactly what I needed.
I locked eyes with Miss Pompous, making sure she was watching.
“One moment, please,” I said, my voice sickly sweet. “I’ll make sure this juice is “perfect” for you.”
Miss Pompous watched with narrowed eyes as I fed it into the juicer.
The machine groaned and sputtered, struggling with the oversized vegetable. Juice began to spray everywhere across the counter, onto the floor, and most satisfyingly, all over Miss Pompous’s designer purse that she’d carelessly left too close to the danger zone.
Her shriek of horror was music to my ears.
“My bag!” she wailed, snatching it up and futilely trying to wipe away the orange stains. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, ma’am. It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned an impressive shade of purple. “Accident? You deliberately ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I demand compensation! Where the heck is your manager?”
I could feel laughter bubbling up inside me, threatening to burst out. Struggling to keep a straight face, I gestured vaguely towards a group of customers browsing the aisles.
“I think I saw him helping someone over there,” I said, my voice wavering slightly with suppressed mirth.
As Miss Pompous turned to look, I took the opportunity to slip away, ducking behind the stockroom door.
From my hiding spot, I watched as she gave up waiting and stormed out of the store, clutching her dripping bag close to her chest, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
The bell above the door jangled violently as she slammed it behind her.
I let out a sigh of relief, but the knot in my stomach told me this wasn’t over. Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let something like this go. I knew she’d be back, and next time, she’d be out for blood.
The next morning, I arrived at work with a swirl of dread churning in my stomach.
Barely an hour into my shift, Miss Pompous burst through the door like a storm cloud, making a beeline for the counter.
“Where is the owner?”
Before I could answer, Mr. Weatherbee emerged from the back room, his face pale. “Mrs. Johnson? Is there a problem?”
“I want to speak to the owner. Now!” she snapped.
As if on cue, the owner, Mr. Larson, appeared. He was a kind-faced man in his sixties.
“I’m the owner,” he said calmly. “What seems to be the problem?”
Miss Pompous launched into a tirade, her voice growing shriller with each word. “Your incompetent employee ruined my expensive purse yesterday! I demand she be fired immediately, and I expect full compensation for my loss!”
Mr. Larson listened patiently. When she finally ran out of steam, he simply said, “I see. Well, let’s take a look at the security footage, shall we?”
My heart skipped a beat. I’d forgotten about the cameras. Oh no.
We all gathered around the small monitor in Mr. Larson’s office. As the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and my subsequent “accident” with her purse, the room fell silent.
Finally, Mr. Larson turned to Miss Pompous. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an unfortunate accident that occurred after you assaulted my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous’s jaw dropped. “But… but my purse!”
“I suggest you leave now, Mrs. Johnson. And please don’t return to this establishment. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone who mistreats our staff.”
With a final glare of pure hatred in my direction, Miss Pompous stormed out, the bell over the door clanging violently in her wake.
As soon as she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “Well, Grace, I hope it was just an accident.”
“Yes, sir. It was! Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?” I lied.
Mr. Larson nodded and walked away. As I hurried back to the juice bar, Ally gave me a high five. “Way to go, Grace! You stood up to the wicked witch!”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in months. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Well, that was justice served, with a side of carrot juice! Sometimes, what goes around comes around in the most unexpected ways. And let me tell you, it tastes pretty sweet.
That night, as I recounted the story to my mom and sister over dinner, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just taught Miss Pompous a lesson, it had reminded me of my own worth.
So, have you ever dealt with entitled people like Miss Pompous? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments. After all, we’ve all got to stick together against the “Karens” of the world, right?
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