Entitled Brat Threw Trash in Front of Elderly Garbage Lady, Saying ‘Pick It Up, It’s Your Job’ – Karma Instantly Hits Back

Entitled Brat Threw Trash in Front of Elderly Garbage Lady, Saying ‘Pick It Up, It’s Your Job’ – Karma Instantly Hits Back

Colin here, ready to serve up a story so satisfying, it’ll make you believe in instant justice. Picture this: a young punk with an attitude messes with our neighborhood’s garbage guardian. Let’s just say, his trash talk went straight to the landfill. This tale has a pungent beginning, a hilarious middle, and a sweet, sweet ending you won’t want to miss.

A young man standing next to his car in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A young man standing next to his car in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

I’m a 35-year-old guy living in a quiet, friendly neighborhood. We’ve got this amazing elderly lady, Mrs. Johnson, who’s been our garbage woman for years. She’s in her 70s, sweet as pie, and always goes the extra mile to keep our streets clean. Everyone respects her… well, almost everyone.

Enter Jake. This entitled brat just moved into the area. He’s in his 20s, living off his parents’ money, and acts like he owns the place. You know the type. He’s blasting loud music at all hours, leaving his stuff everywhere, and just being a general nuisance.

A man walking his dog in the neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A man walking his dog in the neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

So, last week, I was out walking my dog, Max, when I saw something that made my blood boil. Mrs. Johnson was doing her rounds, picking up trash when Jake strutted out of his house with this big bag of garbage.

Instead of walking the few extra steps to the garbage truck, he threw the bag right in front of Mrs. Johnson. He sneered, “Pick it up. It’s your job.”

An elderly lady picking up trash in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

An elderly lady picking up trash in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

I could see Mrs. Johnson was hurt and a bit shaken, but she didn’t say anything. She just bent down to pick up the bag. That was it for me. I couldn’t let this slide. But just as I was about to step in, karma beat me to it in the most spectacular way.

Jake, feeling all high and mighty, turned to walk back to his house. But in his arrogance, he didn’t see a patch of wet leaves, and he went down hard, landing right in a puddle of mud. His fancy clothes were drenched and filthy in an instant.

A young man falls into a puddle of muddy water | Source: Midjourney

A young man falls into a puddle of muddy water | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t help but chuckle, but the real revenge was yet to come.

Seeing the opportunity, I grabbed my phone and quickly called a couple of neighbors who were part of our community watch. They arrived within minutes, and we all surrounded the guy, who was covered in mud and trying to clean himself off.

“Hey buddy,” I said, trying to keep a straight face, “looks like you had a little accident. Need a hand?”

An elderly man scolding a young man with muddied clothes | Source: Midjourney

An elderly man scolding a young man with muddied clothes | Source: Midjourney

He glared at me but didn’t say anything. One of the neighbors, Mr. Parker, who happened to be a retired police officer, stepped forward.

“You know,” he said, “Mrs. Johnson here is a respected member of our community. We don’t take kindly to people disrespecting her.”

The young guy’s face turned pale. He realized he was outnumbered and out of his league. Mrs. Johnson, bless her heart, walked over to him, still holding the trash bag he had thrown.

Garbage bags lying outside a house in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

Garbage bags lying outside a house in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

“I believe this is yours,” she said, handing it back to him with a sweet smile.

Humiliated, he took the bag and mumbled an apology. But we weren’t done yet.

Our retired officer neighbor, Mr. Daniels, suggested, “How about you spend the next hour helping Mrs. Johnson with her rounds as a way of making amends?”

Jake’s eyes widened in horror, but he knew he had no choice. He nodded reluctantly.

A young man in muddied clothes picking up trash in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A young man in muddied clothes picking up trash in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

“Great,” Mr. Daniels said. “Grab a pair of gloves from Mrs. Johnson’s truck. You’re on duty now.”

​​So, for the next hour, we all watched as this entitled brat followed Mrs. Johnson around, picking up trash and doing the job he had mocked her for. At first, Jake tried to keep his distance, barely touching the trash, but Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t have any of that.

“Come on now, you need to do it properly,” she said, pointing to a pile of leaves and litter. “Get in there and make sure it’s clean.”

A pile of fallen leaves and litter on the side of the road in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A pile of fallen leaves and litter on the side of the road in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

Jake sighed but bent down to pick up the trash. As time went on, he got sweatier and dirtier, his fancy clothes ruined. He was clearly out of his comfort zone, but he had no choice but to keep going.

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him struggle. Karma was working its magic.

At one point, Mrs. Johnson stopped to take a sip of water. “Are you doing alright, Jake?” she asked kindly.

An elderly garbage lady standing next to a garbage truck in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

An elderly garbage lady standing next to a garbage truck in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

Jake, panting and red-faced, just nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, clearly anything but.

The neighbors, including Mr. Parker and Mr. Daniels, watched with satisfaction. We all knew this was a lesson Jake needed to learn.

By the end of the hour, Jake was a mess. Sweaty, dirty, and thoroughly humbled, he trudged back to Mrs. Johnson’s truck to return the gloves. As he handed them over, he muttered another apology. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson.”

A young man in muddied clothes is talking to an elderly garbage lady in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A young man in muddied clothes is talking to an elderly garbage lady in a neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

She nodded graciously. “Remember, young man, respect is earned through actions, not words.”

He gave a small nod and walked back to his car, looking defeated. As he drove off, I had a feeling he’d think twice before disrespecting anyone again, especially someone as hardworking and kind as Mrs. Johnson.

We haven’t seen Jake since that day. Maybe he moved out, or maybe he’s just laying low. Either way, the neighborhood feels a bit more peaceful now.

A man smiling while standing in a quiet neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling while standing in a quiet neighborhood | Source: Midjourney

There you have it, folks. Proof that karma can be swift and satisfying. Remember, what goes around truly does come around. Thanks for reading, and perhaps take a moment to reflect on the power of karma in your own life.

Much like Colin witnessing Jake’s entitled behavior toward the respectable Mrs. Johnson, the woman in our next story observed something similar in a slightly different setting.

A woman told her daughter that her father had passed away – years later, the girl uncovered a heartbreaking truth

When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she walks into her home to see a cryptic message from her mother — telling her to watch a video. As Cassie presses play, her entire life changes. In the end, she’s left wondering which of her parents are worthy of forgiveness.

In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed him to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he ensured that he made enough time for me.

“You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he would say, bopping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”

My parents always went out of their way for me — ensuring that despite their busy schedules, we would have family dinner almost every night.

It was the one thing that kept me grounded while both of my friends from school were in the middle of their parents’ messy divorces.

“I think it’s trendy now,” I told my mother as she cut slices of banana bread for me after school one day.

“Cas, you cannot think that divorce is trendy,” she laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families actually keep things civil.”

“I’m just saying that it’s trendy because a lot of kids live between two homes,” I explained to her. “It’s one of those things we were talking about in class today.”

I was fourteen, and the world seemed more dramatic than it should have been.

But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed to be an incantation that settled over our home.

A few weeks after that conversation, my father went away on a business trip. A few hours after he had been gone, there was news of his passing.

“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” she replied. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”

“So what will we do next?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.

“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to have one?”

“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”

I couldn’t fathom why my mother would want to do that — but at the end of the day, she knew my father best. And the longer I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental a private ceremony at the beach felt.

“Don’t be difficult, Cassie,” my mother said when she saw me thinking about my next move.

“I’m not,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. It’s a great idea, Mom.”

I could have fought her for a send-off that I thought would have been more appropriate. But what use would it have been? At the end of the day, we had both lost him.

The months following the beach ceremony felt weighted, and I knew that I was becoming deeply depressed — my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.

But, with time, I learned to live with it.

Last week, I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a little family vacation. My son was adamant that camping was the new best thing, and I knew that despite the wonders of nature, I wasn’t going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.

Instead, I thought that a cabin would be the best option — my husband, Derek, could camp outside with Drew, our son, if he insisted on it.

We had a dog, therefore, I asked my mother to house-sit for the week so that we could be at peace, knowing that Romeo was taken care of.

A week away was more than enough to restore my mind — and eventually, when we went back home, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like she had never been there.

But there, on the coffee table, was a note beneath the TV remote.

Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom

I didn’t know what was in store for me, but while Derek got Drew into the bath, I put the TV on and began to watch whatever my mother had planned.

The TV flickered to life, and there he was, my father, his voice a long-lost melody, his image aged but still, unmistakably him.

Tears streamed down my face as the realization that he was still alive enveloped me in a mix of joy and disbelief.

The video message was nothing short of unpredictable.

My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m so sorry for the pain that you must have felt from my loss. But it was needed. I needed to be removed from your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her for the truth.

My health is on a steady decline, and I would love to see you and explain it all.

Love you, Dad.

Without telling Derek or Drew anything, I grabbed the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain.

“So, I bet you’ve got questions for me,” she said, opening the door.

“Explain it all,” I said.

“Cassie, it’s heavy. You look tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.

My mother made us some tea and took out some shortbread.

“Darling,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much about that time that I need to tell you.”

I sipped my tea, trying to figure out what my mother was about to tell me.

“I remember that you were telling me about your friend’s parents getting divorced. Do you remember that?” she asked.

I nodded. Of course, I did. It was the strangest thing, but it was so common when I was in school.

“Well, your father and I were not legally married. So when I told him about our conversation regarding divorce, he was actually relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“Then I found out that the real reason that we didn’t get married was because your father was already married to another woman.”

“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping my cup. “To who?”

“To a woman in the town where he always had his business trips.”

“You didn’t know?” I asked, unable to believe her words.

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “But when I pressed him about it, he decided to choose that family over us. So, I told him that the story was going to be his death.”

We were both silent for a moment.

Turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble in that way. And she refused to let him see me one more time.

“It was better for you to think that it was an accident,” my mother said. “It just made more sense.”

Now, I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.

“What did we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.

“Dust,” she replied with a straight face.

My mother had spoken to him twice over the years. The second time being a day ago.

During their meeting, my father confessed his imminent death due to illness and requested that she give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording all set for me to watch.

“I would have taken the secret to my grave,” she said. “But knowing that he was ill and wanted to see you just struck something in me.”

Compelled by a need to confront the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.

I spent a few weeks with my father — going in and out of hospitals, watching him take an array of different medication, and growing weaker by the day.

Sitting at his bedside, I listened to his stories, the regrets, the moments of joy, and the love he had for all his children — myself included.

When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly over with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I’d know that my son had met my father.

A few days later, my father died.

Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the lie of having a double life. I just know that when it came to it in the end — I wanted to spend time with him. I had shoved my feelings aside, hoping for memories that I could figure out later.

But now that the dust has settled, I’m trying to figure out if I should forgive my mother for lying.

What would you do?

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*