Entitled Brat Mocks School Custodian, Gets Taught a Priceless Lesson in the Best Way Possible

Entitled Brat Mocks School Custodian, Gets Taught a Priceless Lesson in the Best Way Possible

Entitled teen Emma thought the world revolved around her and she mocked people based on their appearance. One day, the girl took her mockery too far and brutally insulted Mrs. Johnson, a poor older custodian. But karma was about to deliver a priceless lesson this entitled brat wouldn’t soon forget.

Alright, lovely people of the internet! Ever witnessed a high schooler throw some serious shade at someone who totally didn’t deserve it?

Because what I’m about to tell you involves a major brat who ruthlessly mocked a poor old custodian and got a life lesson delivered in the most epic way possible…

A schoolgirl in a hallway | Source: Midjourney

A schoolgirl in a hallway | Source: Midjourney

So here’s this rich girl named Emma in my sophomore English class, who basically waltzed around like she owned the place.

Think designer everything, a posse of giggling followers, and the permanent sneer of someone utterly convinced the world was her personal runway.

Her favorite target? Our sweet custodian, Mrs. Johnson, a hardworking older lady in her late 60s. Think soft-spoken, kind, and always cheerful – that’s Mrs. Johnson for you.

A custodian mopping the floor | Source: Midjourney

A custodian mopping the floor | Source: Midjourney

This sweet custodian in our school, bless her heart, was magic. Always had a smile, even when mopping up cafeteria mystery spills that defied identification.

Emma, though? She’d make snide remarks about Mrs. Johnson’s cleaning cart, calling it a “janitor chariot” in that grating, nasally voice.

A teen girl laughing | Source: Midjourney

A teen girl laughing | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, I caught Emma dumping her half-eaten lunch on the floor by the water fountain, then sauntering away like it was nothing. Mrs. Johnson patiently approached the mess with a sigh.

“Emma, honey,” she called out gently, “did you drop this?”

A burger on the floor | Source: Midjourney

A burger on the floor | Source: Midjourney

Emma whipped around, highlighter poised like a weapon. “Ugh, whatever, Mrs. J. Just clean it up, that’s your job, right?” The look on Mrs. Johnson’s face… well, let’s just say the sunshine usually radiating from her seemed to dim a bit.

A girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

A girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

Ugh, you know those moments where you just want the earth to swallow you whole? Well, that’s exactly how I felt witnessing Emma’s latest tirade.

This girl, with her designer everything and attitude, seemed to take a particular pleasure in tormenting Mrs. Johnson.

An older woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

An older woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

One lunch period, I rounded the corner by the cafeteria to find Emma holding court near the overflowing trash cans. Mrs. Johnson was pushing her cleaning cart past them, mop leaving a clean streak in its wake.

A girl teasing someone | Source: Midjourney

A girl teasing someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma, with a smirk that could curdle milk, decided to unleash a verbal grenade at the poor woman who never meant harm to anyone.

“HEY, MRS. JOHNSON,” the girl barked with a chuckle, “MAYBE IF YOU HAD STUDIED HARDER, YOU WOULDN’T BE STUCK CLEANING UP AFTER US!”

A sad woman's eyes | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

The worst part? Her disciples as in the little gang that followed her like a puppy burst out laughing. Mrs. Johnson stopped pushing her cart, the rhythmic squeak of the wheels falling silent.

Her shoulders slumped a fraction, and for a horrible moment, I thought I saw a flicker of tears welling up in her kind eyes.

An upset woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

Then, Emma doubled down, leaning in with a malicious glint.

“Seriously, do you even know how to read? Or did you just skip school altogether?”

Mrs. Johnson’s silence was deafening. The hurt flickered in her eyes like a dying flame, and I knew I couldn’t be a bystander any longer. Emma needed a lesson, and detention wouldn’t cut it.

A sad woman on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

Fast forward to chemistry class later that week, our chemistry teacher Ms. Thompson droned on about the periodic table.

Suddenly, she cleared her throat, the sound sharp enough to pierce Emma’s bubble. “Alright class,” she announced, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, “we have a special guest lecturer today. A former university professor with a wealth of knowledge to share.”

A chemistry teacher in class | Source: Midjourney

A chemistry teacher in class | Source: Midjourney

A hush fell over the room as the door creaked open. A woman in a crisp cap and gown strode in, a stack of papers clutched confidently in her hand. Her gaze swept the classroom, lingering for a beat on Emma, who finally looked up from her phone.

You should have seen Emma’s white-as-a-ghost face when she saw the guest lecturer. You see, this wasn’t some stuffy professor flown in from a distant college. No, this woman, radiating quiet authority, was none other than Mrs. Johnson!

A shocked girl | Source: Midjourney

A shocked girl | Source: Midjourney

“Good afternoon, class,” Mrs. Johnson greeted. “Today, we’ll be discussing the fascinating world of…” She paused, letting the silence build. “Perhaps, Ms. Emma,” she continued, her eyes locking with Emma’s, “you can tell me the difference between a hypothesis and a theory.”

The classroom held its breath. Emma’s mouth gaped open like a landed fish. This was only the beginning, and the best part? She had no idea what was about to hit her.

A woman staring intensely at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring intensely at someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s jaw dropped, and her face turned as red as a tomato. Mrs. Johnson proceeded to give the most engaging lecture on organic chemistry I had ever witnessed.

She explained complex concepts with ease and answered every question thrown at her with the expertise of someone who had spent years in the field.

“So, who can tell me why carbon forms four bonds?” Mrs. Johnson’s eyes scanned the room.

An annoyed girl | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed girl | Source: Midjourney

“Isn’t it because of its four valence electrons?” a boy named Jake piped up, a bit unsure.

“Exactly! And how does that affect its ability to form complex molecules?” Her voice was encouraging, drawing the class in.

“It means… it can bond with many different elements?” a student named Sarah hesitated.

A boy raising his hand in class | Source: Midjourney

A boy raising his hand in class | Source: Midjourney

“Precisely! And that’s why carbon is the backbone of organic chemistry. It’s versatile,” Mrs. Johnson beamed.

Emma, still red-faced, mumbled, “I didn’t know a janitor could know so much.”

A girl lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

A girl lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson paused, looking directly at Emma. “You know, knowledge isn’t confined to titles. It’s about passion and curiosity.”

The class was silent, absorbing her words while some giggled at Emma.

“Any more questions?” Mrs. Johnson asked, turning back to the board.

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

Emma was so embarrassed and furious that she sat frozen in her seat. Her eyeballs darted around, tracking Mrs. Johnson like a predator stalking its prey.

After the lecture, Mrs. Johnson removed her academic cap and looked directly at Emma.

“Maybe if you study harder, you won’t end up making assumptions about people based on their jobs, girl!” she said calmly.

A woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

The entire class erupted in applause while Emma sat there, stunned and embarrassed.

You should’ve seen the girl’s face. She was seething. She wasn’t the type to let this slide.

The next thing we knew, Emma stormed out of the classroom, her footsteps echoing down the hall. But my mind was still on this entitled brat. What was she planning?

A girl leaving a classroom | Source: Midjourney

A girl leaving a classroom | Source: Midjourney

Of course, Emma, being the firecracker she was, couldn’t take her public humiliation lying down. The rumor mill went into overdrive, churning out a story so outlandish it almost made me laugh.

Apparently, The girl started spreading rumors that Mrs. Johnson had borrowed the professorial garb from a friend (who?) and simply read the lecture off a script (written by whom?).

Funny, right?

A girl in the school cafeteria | Source: Midjourney

A girl in the school cafeteria | Source: Midjourney

The rumor spread like wildfire. Even some normally level-headed students started giving Mrs. Johnson the side-eye. It was infuriating! But Mrs. Johnson, bless her heart, remained calm. No dramatics, no tearful outbursts. She simply… waited.

The opportunity for a counter-strike arrived with the much-dreaded parent-teacher conference the next week. Parents flooded the school, armed with questions and concerns.

People at a doorway | Source: Midjourney

People at a doorway | Source: Midjourney

Among them were Emma’s parents, both prominent figures in the community with a reputation for being… well, let’s just say they wielded their influence like a well-worn scepter.

As I finished my conference with a concerned parent, I spotted Mrs. Johnson standing by the refreshments table.

A woman looking to her side | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking to her side | Source: Midjourney

During the conference, she requested to speak. She calmly walked to the front of the room, pulled out a folder, and began distributing copies of her Ph.D. diploma, letters of recommendation from her previous university, and published research papers.

The parents and teachers were stunned. Even me.

Certificates on a table | Source: Midjourney

Certificates on a table | Source: Midjourney

“As you can see,” Mrs. Johnson declared, “I have the qualifications necessary to teach chemistry.” She paused, letting the evidence sink in. “I’ve heard rumors suggesting otherwise, and I want to address them directly.”

Emma’s parents, visibly uncomfortable, exchanged worried glances. Mrs. Johnson turned her gaze to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I’m aware your daughter has been spreading these rumors.”

A startled couple | Source: Midjourney

A startled couple | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s mother started to speak, but Mrs. Johnson raised a hand gently. “Please, let me finish.”

She took a deep breath. “I took this custodial job not because I lacked education or ambition, but because I needed the extra money to care for my ill husband. My choices were driven by love and responsibility, not by a lack of intelligence or effort.”

A woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

A hush fell over the room. Parents looked at each other, some nodding in understanding, others shifting uncomfortably.

“My husband passed away last year,” Mrs. Johnson continued, tears welling up in her eyes. “But I stayed on as a custodian because this school and these students mean the world to me.”

A woman's teary eyes | Source: Midjourney

A woman’s teary eyes | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s face went completely pale at this point. Mrs. Johnson stepped back from the podium, and said, “I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. I’m here to educate and support your children, no matter my title. I might be a custodian who washes toilets and scrubs floors… but I’m still human.”

Emma’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.

Anxious girl biting her nails | Source: Midjourney

Anxious girl biting her nails | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s parents were mortified. They apologized profusely to Mrs. Johnson and promised to deal with their daughter.

Emma was grounded for months and had to do community service as part of her punishment. One of her tasks? Helping Mrs. Johnson with her custodial duties after school.

A young girl on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

A young girl on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

I watched Emma begrudgingly pick up a mop and start cleaning the hallway. Mrs. Johnson worked alongside her, showing her the ropes. At first, Emma was sullen and silent, but over time, I noticed a change.

One afternoon, as I passed by, I heard Emma ask Mrs. Johnson, “Why did you stay on as a custodian after your husband passed?”

A girl standing in a school hallway | Source: Midjourney

A girl standing in a school hallway | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson paused, wiping her hands on a rag. “This school became my second home. And the kids here, well, they needed someone who cared.”

Emma frowned. “But you could have done something else, right?”

Mrs. Johnson smiled gently. “Sure, but sometimes, it’s not about what you can do, but where you feel you can make the most impact.”

A girl talking to someone | Source: Midjourney

A girl talking to someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s eyes softened. “I never thought about it that way.”

As the weeks went by, Emma’s demeanor shifted. She began to show up early, ready to work, and started to ask Mrs. Johnson more about her life. They shared stories, and slowly, Emma developed a grudging respect for her.

An older woman's compassionate eyes | Source: Midjourney

An older woman’s compassionate eyes | Source: Midjourney

The girl was ashamed of herself and even apologized to Mrs. Johnson. How cool was that?!

Mrs. Johnson, ever the kind soul, forgave Emma and used the opportunity to mentor her. Eventually, Emma’s grades improved, and she became more considerate towards others.

By the time she graduated, she had completely transformed from the entitled brat she once was.

A cheerful young girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

A cheerful young girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, Emma approached Mrs. Johnson after finishing her custodial duties. I was there, talking to the sweet old lady. I thought Emma would hesitate or feel shy to talk to the custodian in front of me.

But the girl proved me wrong. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m really sorry for everything. I was awful to you,” she said and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

A woman smiling at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling at someone | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson smiled gently and replied, “Emma, we all make mistakes. What’s important is that you learn and grow from them.”

Emma nodded, her eyes sincere. “I have, thanks to you.”

Ah, it was such a heartwarming sight, you know! The mentorship deepened, with Mrs. Johnson helping Emma with her studies and offering life advice. Emma’s grades soared, and her attitude shift was noticeable to everyone.

A girl in a classroom | Source: Midjourney

A girl in a classroom | Source: Midjourney

Graduation day arrived, and Emma, now the valedictorian, stood at the podium. She took a deep breath, scanning the audience until her eyes landed on Mrs. Johnson.

“I want to thank someone very special,” she began, “Mrs. Johnson, our school’s custodian and my mentor, taught me the most valuable lesson of all: never judge a book by its cover.”

A young girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

A young girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

The crowd murmured, and Mrs. Johnson looked surprised and touched. We teachers, along with the principal himself, were equally moved. I even spotted him discreetly wiping a stray tear from his eye.

Emma continued, “Her kindness, wisdom, and support changed my life. Because of her, I’m standing here today, ready to face the future.”

As the applause erupted, the girl stepped down and hugged Mrs. Johnson tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for everything. For opening my eyes.”

A girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

A girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson’s eyes were misty and all she could do was pull Emma into a tight hug. The room erupted in applause, and even some of us teachers found ourselves wiping away tears.

Lesson learned: never underestimate someone by their appearance!

Mrs. Johnson, the custodian, just dropped some serious knowledge (and a Ph.D.!). Anyone else ever been surprised by someone’s hidden depths? Let’s hear about it!

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

My Neighbor Didn’t Pay Me the $250 We Agreed on for Cleaning Her House — So I Gave Her a Fair Lesson

They say neighbors can either become friends or foes, but I never imagined mine would turn into both overnight. What started as a simple favor turned into a bitter feud and a twist that left us both reeling.

When my husband, Silas, walked out of our lives six years ago, I never imagined I’d be standing in my kitchen, scrubbing the same countertop for the third time, wondering how I’d become this version of myself.

I’m Prudence, 48, a mother of two, trying to make ends meet while working remotely for a call center. Life didn’t exactly turn out as I’d hoped.

Silas and I used to talk about our dreams, you know? The kind of life we wanted to build together. But somewhere along the way, those dreams shattered, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone.

He walked out one evening, saying he needed “space to find himself,” leaving me with our then eight-year-old son Damien and just a few months old daughter Connie. I guess he found more than space because he never came back.

“Mom, can I have some cereal?” Connie’s small voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Her wide brown eyes, so full of innocence, stared up at me from the kitchen table.

“Sure, honey. Just give me a second.” I forced a smile, grabbing the cereal box from the top shelf.

Damien, now 14, shuffled into the kitchen, earbuds plugged in as usual. He barely looked up from his phone. “I’m heading out to meet up with Jake, okay?” he mumbled.

“Don’t stay out too late. And remember, homework first when you get back,” I called after him as he stormed out the door, not waiting for my reply.

It was just another day in the life I’d been patching together since Silas left. Balancing the responsibilities of raising two kids alone while trying to keep a roof over our heads wasn’t easy.

My work at the call center helped, but it wasn’t exactly my dream job. It was a job, though, and in times like these, that’s all that mattered.

That’s when Emery, the new neighbor in her early 30s, knocked on my door. I opened it to see her, eyes red-rimmed, looking like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Hey, Prudence, can I ask you for a huge favor?” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

I nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “Sure, Emery. What’s going on?”

She sighed, sinking into the couch like she was about to collapse. “I had this crazy party last night, and then I got called out of town for work. The place is a disaster, and I don’t have time to clean it up. Could you, um, help me out? I’ll pay you, of course.”

I hesitated, glancing at the clock. My shift was due to start in a couple of hours, but the idea of earning some extra cash was tempting. Lord knows we could use it.

“How much are we talking about?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” she said quickly. “I just really need the help, Prudence. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“Alright,” I agreed after a moment. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” Emery hugged me quickly before rushing out, leaving me to wonder what I’d just signed up for.

Emery’s house was a wreck, and that’s putting it mildly. It looked like a tornado had blown through it, with empty bottles, plates with half-eaten food, and trash strewn everywhere.

I stood in the middle of her living room, hands on my hips, trying to figure out where to even begin.

Two days. It took me two solid days of scrubbing, sweeping, and hauling garbage out of that house. By the time I was done, my back ached, and my hands were raw. But I kept reminding myself of that $250 Emery promised. That money would go a long way for us.

When Emery finally got back, I marched over to her place, ready to collect.

“Emery, it’s done. Your house is spotless,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “So, about the payment…”

She blinked at me like I was speaking another language. “Payment? What payment?”

I frowned, my heart sinking a little. “The $250 you promised for cleaning up your house. Remember?”

Emery’s expression shifted into one of confusion, then annoyance. “Prudence, I never agreed to pay you anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For a moment, I just stood there, dumbfounded. “You… what? You said you’d pay me! We had an agreement.”

“No, we didn’t,” she snapped. “Look, I’m late for work, and I really don’t have time for this.” She pushed past me, heading towards her car.

“Emery, this isn’t right!” I called after her, but she was already backing out of her driveway, not giving me a second glance.

As I watched Emery’s car disappear down the street, I stood there, fuming. How could she just walk away like that?

Two days of back-breaking work, and she had the nerve to pretend like we never made a deal. I could feel my anger bubbling up, but I knew better than to act on impulse.

I went back to my house, slammed the door behind me, and paced the living room, trying to think. Connie was playing with her dolls on the floor, and Damien was still out with his friends. I didn’t want to drag my kids into this mess, but I also wasn’t about to let Emery get away with it.

“Alright, Prudence, you’ve got to be smart about this,” I muttered to myself. I looked out the window at Emery’s house and an idea started to form in my mind. It was risky, but I was beyond caring at that point. If she wanted to play dirty, I could get down in the mud too.

Twenty minutes later, I was at the local garbage dump, pulling on a pair of old gloves I kept in the car. I wasn’t proud of what I was about to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I loaded up my trunk with as many garbage bags as I could fit, the stench nearly making me gag. But I gritted my teeth and kept going.

On the drive back, I kept replaying our conversation in my head, her dismissive tone, her refusal to acknowledge what she’d promised. The more I thought about it, the more justified I felt.

She didn’t even have the decency to respect the hard work I’d put into cleaning her filthy house. Well, she was about to see just how dirty things could get.

When I pulled up in front of Emery’s house, the street was quiet. No one was around to see me pop the trunk and start hauling the garbage bags to her front door. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me as I worked quickly.

It was then I realized something: Emery had forgotten to take her house key back from me. She was in such a hurry when she left, she didn’t even think about it.

I hesitated for a moment. But then I thought of the look on her face when she told me there was no agreement, the way she dismissed me like I was nothing. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was still spotless, just as I’d left it, but that was about to change. One by one, I tore open the garbage bags, dumping the contents all over her floors, her counters, and even her bed. Rotten food, old newspapers, dirty diapers: everything mixed in a disgusting heap.

“This is what you get, Emery,” I muttered under my breath as I emptied the last bag. “You wanted to play games, well, game on.”

I closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it, and slipped the key under her welcome mat. As I walked back to my car, I felt a strange surge of satisfaction and guilt. But I shook it off. Emery had brought this on herself.

That evening, just as I was putting Connie to bed, I heard furious banging on my front door. I knew who it was before I even opened it.

“Prudence! What the hell did you do to my house?!” Emery screamed, her face red with anger.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, playing it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emery. How could I have gotten into your house? We never had any agreement, remember? So, I never had the keys to your house.”

She stared at me, speechless for a moment, before her face twisted in rage. “You—you’re lying! I’m calling the police! You’re going to pay for this!”

I shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Go ahead and call them. But how are you going to explain how I got in? You can’t because according to you, I never had the key.”

Emery opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. She looked like she was about to explode, but all she could do was turn on her heel and storm off, muttering something under her breath.

I watched her go, my heart still pounding, but this time it wasn’t just from anger. There was a sense of justice, of balance restored.

I didn’t know if she’d call the police, but I wasn’t worried. Emery had learned a valuable lesson that day: don’t mess with Prudence.

As I closed the door, I let out a long breath, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. I knew I’d crossed a line, but in that moment, it felt like the only way to make things right.

Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means getting your hands dirty. And as for Emery? Well, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be asking me for any more favors anytime soon.

Do you think I handled things well? What would you have done differently in my place?

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