Rachel reluctantly agrees to buy a $2,000 watch for their boss after her colleague Emily promises to split the cost. But when Emily refuses to pay her share, Rachel is left struggling with the unexpected financial burden. Determined to teach Emily a lesson, Rachel devises a clever plan to expose her deceit. But will she succeed in bringing Emily’s dishonesty to light?
“That’s a lot of money, Emily,” I sighed, stirring my coffee slowly.
A person stirring coffee | Source: Pexels
“Oh, come on, Rachel,” she said, sitting across from me. “Think about it! A $1,600 watch for Mr. Johnson’s birthday would show our dedication. Plus, I’m sure he’ll love the customized engraving. Oh, and with that, the total would be $2,000.”
I took a sip of my coffee, trying to buy some time. “It’s just… that’s a huge expense. Are you sure about this?” I asked.
A woman sipping coffee | Source: Pexels
“Absolutely!” she replied, nodding eagerly. “Trust me, Rachel. It will be perfect. And don’t worry about the cost. We’ll split it, and I promise to pay my half as soon as possible.”
I felt a knot forming in my stomach. I liked Emily, despite her reputation for sucking up to management. She’s always the one staying late, bringing coffee, and organizing events. But this whole watch idea seemed too much, even for her.
A man wearing a watch | Source: Unsplash
“Emily, I don’t know. I have bills to pay, and $2,000 is a lot for me right now,” I said, hoping she’d understand.
“Rachel, this is an investment in our future here,” she insisted, trying to convince me. “Imagine the impression we’ll make! Mr. Johnson will remember this forever, and it could really boost our standing in the company.”
A smiling woman chatting with her colleague | Source: Pexels
I sighed again. Emily always had a way of making things sound so simple and beneficial.
“Alright,” I said reluctantly, finally giving in. “Let’s get the watch. But please don’t forget what you’ve promised.”
“Of course, Rachel,” she said. “He’ll love the gift!”
A man in a suit with his arms folded | Source: Pexels
Soon, Mr. Johnson’s birthday arrived.
Emily had everything meticulously planned.
She walked into his office first, and I followed, holding my breath.
A man holding a pen and pointing at a monitor | Source: Pexels
“Mr. Johnson!” she exclaimed, standing beside his desk. “We have a special surprise for you!”
Mr. Johnson looked up from his paperwork, clearly curious.
Emily handed him the elegantly wrapped box, her eyes shining with pride. “This was our idea,” she said, “but I really pushed for it because I knew it was perfect for you.”
A person holding a gift in their hands | Source: Unsplash
I stood there, smiling awkwardly. Emily opened the box to reveal the watch, and Mr. Johnson’s eyes widened in surprise.
“This is incredible. You really didn’t need to!” he said, examining the watch. “Thank you so much. This is really thoughtful.”
A watch on a man’s wrist | Source: Unsplash
Emily beamed, soaking in his praise. I forced a smile, feeling a pang of regret. I had hoped this gift would be a gesture of teamwork, but it quickly became Emily’s solo performance.
She kept talking about how she had put extra effort into getting the gift for him, which made me realize I had spent a thousand dollars for nothing more than a front-row seat to Emily’s self-promotion.
A young woman talking to an older man | Source: Midjourney
“This is wonderful, Emily. Thank you again,” Mr. Johnson said.
Emily turned to me with a triumphant grin. “See, Rachel? I told you he’d love it.”
I managed a weak smile. “Yeah, he really does,” I said.
A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney
A week passed, but I didn’t hear anything from Emily about her share.
One day, I found her in the break room, chatting away with another colleague. I waited until she was alone before approaching her.
“Hey, Emily,” I started calmly. “I… I just wanted to remind you about your share of the cost of Mr. Johnson’s watch. I have some expenses, and I really need that money right now.”
Two women chatting at workplace | Source: Freepik
Emily looked up at me with a condescending smile. “Oh, sweetie, I thought you were just helping out. I never intended to pay. Besides, you earn more than I do, don’t you? Consider it a charitable act.”
“WHAT?” I stared at her, stunned. “What do you mean? You… weren’t you supposed to pay your share?”
A smiling woman talking to her co-worker | Source: Freepik
“Look, life isn’t fair, Rachel,” she shrugged. “You wanted to make a good impression, and we did. Didn’t you see how happy Mr. Johnson was? Isn’t that worth it?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Her selfishness was astounding. “That’s not the point, Emily,” I said, my voice rising. “You promised to pay your half!”
A stern-looking woman | Source: Pexels
She laughed. “Oh, Rachel, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Let it go,” she said and walked away.
I stared at her, anger and frustration bubbling up inside me. Clearly, she had no intention of paying and didn’t care about the impact on me.
So I made up my mind. It was time for some payback.
A confident woman | Source: Pexels
Two days later, I looked into Emily’s schedule and discovered she had a big presentation for the upcoming quarterly meeting. This was crucial for her, and I saw an opportunity.
I began subtly mentioning to a few trusted colleagues that Emily might need ‘help’ with her presentation.
A woman giving a presentation | Source: Pexels
Word spread quickly, and soon everyone offered her ‘suggestions’ and ‘feedback.’ The result? The conflicting advice overwhelmed her, and I could see her becoming more stressed. She did manage to give the presentation, but it was a huge mess.
I wasn’t done yet, though.
A sad-looking young woman | Source: Midjourney
One day, while having lunch in the break room, I overheard Emily bragging about a meeting with a potential big client. She sat at the table, surrounded by a few colleagues, her voice full of confidence.
“This client is huge,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “If I close this deal, I’m sure to get a promotion. Mr. Johnson will be so impressed.”
Co-workers around a table | Source: Pexels
I listened quietly, my mind already plotting. After lunch, I returned to my desk and found the client’s contact information.
I crafted an anonymous email, attaching screenshots of Emily’s rude social media comments.
A person using their laptop | Source: Unsplash
“I felt it was important to inform you about some unethical behavior by Ms. Richards who is scheduled to meet with you,” I wrote in the mail to the client. “Please see the attached screenshots of her social media posts, which include rude and unprofessional comments.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Individual.”
A Gmail screen | Source: Unsplash
A few days later, Emily’s face was pale as she entered the office.
“The client canceled the meeting,” she told a colleague. “They said it was due to ‘unforeseen circumstances.’ I don’t know what went wrong!”
A stressed woman | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry to hear that, Emily,” the colleague replied. “That must be tough.”
Emily sighed and walked away, clearly distressed. Only I knew how hard it was to contain my laugh. But even after going through so much, Emily wouldn’t mend her ways.
A laughing woman at workplace | Source: Unsplash
She started spreading rumors that she had single-handedly bought the watch for Mr. Johnson. Had she guessed I was behind her canceled meeting and failed presentation? I didn’t know. But I wouldn’t let her succeed.
So, I printed out our email exchange where she promised to pay her half and placed copies on the desks of key people in our department, including HR. The next day, whispers filled the office as people read the emails.
A woman using a printer | Source: Pexels
“Can you believe this?” one colleague said, showing the email to another. “Emily promised to pay her half for the watch.”
“Unbelievable,” the other replied. “She’s been taking all the credit.”
Emily’s popularity plummeted, and she looked more stressed than ever. I decided to take it one step further.
A stressed woman at work | Source: Pexels
Creating a fake online persona as a headhunter from a prestigious company, I sent Emily a message.
“To: [email protected]
Subject: Exciting Job Opportunity
Dear Ms. Richards,” I typed.
A person typing on their laptop | Source: Unsplash
“We have been following your impressive work and would love to discuss a potential job opportunity with you at our prestigious firm. We believe you would be a perfect fit for our team. Please let us know if you are available for an interview this Thursday at 10 AM.
Best regards,
Linda J.
Executive Recruiter, El.T.Search.”
An excited female employee | Source: Midjourney
Emily’s eyes lit up as she read the email. She ran over to the desk beside me, her excitement barely contained.
“You won’t believe this! I just got an email from a top headhunter. They want to interview me for a high-level position!”
“That’s amazing, Emily!” Stacey, my co-worker, said. “You should definitely go for it.”
A smiling woman chatting with her co-worker | Source: Freepik
Emily called in sick on the day of the fake interview, completely convinced it was real. She dressed in her best business attire and left the house early to be there on time.
The next day, she returned to the office and I overheard her talking to Stacey. “There was no interview,” she said sadly. “I showed up, and no one knew who I was.”
A sad woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s so strange, Emily. Maybe it was some sort of mistake?”
Emily nodded slowly, still in shock. “Maybe…”
Hardly had she finished talking when Mr. Johnson approached her.
“Emily, we need to talk. Please come into my office,” he said sternly.
A serious-looking man in a suit | Source: Pexels
Emily’s confidence visibly shook. She followed him, her face pale. I stayed at my desk, straining to hear the conversation from behind my computer.
“Emily, I’ve received some concerning information,” Mr. Johnson began, his tone firm. “Can you explain why our client canceled their meeting with you?”
An older man in professional attire | Source: Midjourney
“I-I don’t know, sir. They said it was due to unforeseen circumstances.”
Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Unforeseen circumstances? Or could it be because they received an email with screenshots of your unprofessional social media comments?”
A female employee talking to her boss | Source: Midjourney
Emily gasped. “What? No, I… I didn’t think… I mean, those were private posts!” she gasped, staring at a tablet screen. Maybe Mr. Johnson was showing her the mail.
“They may have been, but they reflect poorly on you and this company,” Mr. Johnson said sharply. “And there’s more. I’ve been hearing rumors that you claimed to have bought the watch for me single-handedly. Is that true?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Emily’s face turned pale. Her silence said it was true.
“Emily, this behavior is unacceptable. You’ve been manipulating situations and lying to your colleagues. This ends now. You are being demoted, effective immediately. One more misstep and you will be terminated!” Mr. Johnson declared.
A box labelled “FIRED” | Source: Pexels
Emily emerged from the office, looking defeated. That same day, in a team meeting, Mr. Johnson took off the expensive watch and held it up for everyone to see.
“This gift was meant to symbolize teamwork and appreciation,” he began, “but given the circumstances, I think it’s only fair to return it.”
A happy boss and employee | Source: Midjourney
He then walked over to me and handed me the watch. “I believe this was more of your contribution. Please, you keep it,” he said.
Emily turned beet red as everyone watched. Her scheme had backfired spectacularly, and my efforts to expose her had paid off.
And that was how I got my ultimate petty revenge on a two-faced colleague.
A smiling woman | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
My Neighbor Poured Cement over My Flower Garden Because the Bees Annoyed Him—He Never Expected Payback from the ‘Sweet Old Lady’ Next Door
Mark moved in with a scowl and a lawnmower that ran with military precision. His neighbor offered him honey and a chance at neighborly peace, but he responded with silence, contempt, and eventually, cement. This is a story about resilience, revenge, and the sting of underestimating kind people.
Neighbors come in all kinds. If you’re lucky, they’re warm or at least quietly distant. But when you’re not, they slice through your happiness, flatten your joy, and shrink the world around you—one complaint, one glare, one tightly coiled burst of anger at a time.
I’m 70 years old, and a mother of two, a son, David, and, a daughter, Sarah. I am also a grandmother of five and the proud owner of a home I’ve loved for the past twenty-five years.
A grandmother’s home and her neighbor’s separated with a flower gardens | Source: Midjourney
Back then when I moved in, the yards blended into each other, no fences, no fuss. Just lavender, lazy bees, and the occasional borrowed rake. We used to wave from porches and share zucchini we didn’t ask to grow.
I raised my two kids here. Planted every rose bush with my bare hands and named the sunflowers. I have also watched the birds build their clumsy nests and leave peanuts out for the squirrels I pretended not to like.
A grandmother tending to a flower garden | Source: Midjourney
Then last year, my haven turned into a nightmare because he moved in. His name is Mark, a 40-something who wore sunglasses even on cloudy days and mowed his lawn in dead-straight rows as if preparing for a military inspection.
He came with his twin sons, Caleb and Jonah, 15. The boys were kind and jovial, quick with a wave, and always polite, but they were rarely around. Mark shared custody with their mother, Rhoda, and the boys spent most of their time at her place — a quieter, warmer home, I imagined.
A man with his twin sons stand infront of their house | Source: Midjourney
I tried to see if Mark had the same warmth, but he didn’t. He didn’t wave, didn’t smile, and seemed to hate everything that breathed, something I learned during one of our first confrontations.
“Those bees are a nuisance. You shouldn’t be attracting pests like that,” he would snap from across the fence while mowing his lawn, his voice laced with disdain.
Bees buzzing on a grandmother’s flower garden | Source: Midjourney
I tried to be kind, so I asked if he had an allergy. He looked at me, actually looked through me, and said, “No, but I don’t need to have an allergy to hate those little parasites.”
That was the moment I knew that this wasn’t about bees. This man simply hated life, especially when it came in colors, and moved without asking permission.
A grandmother and man arguing by a flower garden | Source: Midjourney
I still tried, though. One day, I walked over to his door with the jar of honey in hand and said, “Hey, I thought you might like some of this. I can also cut back the flowers near the property line if they’re bothering you.”
Before I could even finish my sentence, he shut the door in my face. No words, just a quick slam.
So, when I opened my back door one morning and saw my entire flower bed, my sanctuary, drowned under a slab of wet, setting cement, I didn’t scream. I just stood there in my slippers, coffee cooling in my hand, the air thick with the bitter, dusty stink of cement and spite.
Flower bed drowned under a slab of wet, setting cement | Source: Midjourney
After calming down, I called out “Mark, what did you do to my garden?”
He looked me up and down, sizing me up with that all-too-familiar smirk as he’d already decided I was nothing more than a nuisance. “I’ve complained about the bees enough. Thought I’d finally do something about it,” he shot back.
I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of his dismissal, the nerve of it all. “You really think I’m just going to cry and let this slide?” I asked, letting the challenge hang in the air.
An angry grandmother | Source: Midjourney
He shrugged, his sunglasses hiding whatever amusement he felt. “You’re old, soft, harmless. What’s a few bees and flowers to someone like you who won’t be here much longer?”
I turned and walked back to my house without another word, letting him believe he had won the battle. But as I stepped inside, I knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Here’s the thing Mark didn’t know: I’ve survived childbirth, menopause, and three decades of PTA meetings. I know how to play the long game.
A grandmother plotting revenge | Source: Freepik
First, I went to the police, who confirmed that what he did was a crime, a clear case of property damage, and that if handled by the book, he could be charged.
Then came the quiet satisfaction of reporting his oversized, permitless shed to the city authorities. The one he built right on the property line, bragging to Kyle next door about “skipping the red tape.”
Well, the inspector didn’t skip as he measured, and guess what? The shed was two feet over, on my side. He had thirty days to tear it down and he ignored it but then came the fines.
A shed in a garden | Source: Midjourney
Eventually, a city crew in bright vests showed up with a slow but deliberate swing of sledgehammers against the wood. It was methodical, almost poetic as the shed came down. And the bill? Let’s just say karma came with interest. But I wasn’t finished.
I filed in small claims court, armed with a binder so thick and organized it could’ve earned its own library card as it contained photos, receipts, and even dated notes on the garden’s progress.
Well-arranged documents | Source: Freepik
I wasn’t just angry; I was prepared. When the court day came, he showed up empty-handed and scowling. I, on the other hand, had evidence and righteous fury.
The judge ruled in my favor. Naturally. He was ordered to undo the damage: jackhammer out the cement slab, haul in fresh soil, and replant every last flower — roses, sunflowers, lavender — exactly as they had been.
A man working in a flower garden | Source: Midjourney
Watching him fulfill that sentence was a kind of justice no gavel could match. July sun blazing, shirt soaked in sweat, dirt streaking his arms, and a court-appointed monitor standing by, clipboard in hand, checking his work like a hawk.
I didn’t lift a finger. Just watched from my porch, lemonade in hand, while karma did its slow, gritty work.
A grandmother enjoying her lemonade | Source: Midjourney
Then the bees came back. And not just a few — the local beekeeping association was thrilled to support a pollinator haven. They helped install two bustling hives in my yard, and the city even chipped in a grant to support it.
By mid-July, the yard was alive again, buzzing, blooming, and vibrant. Sunflowers leaned over the fence like curious neighbors, petals whispering secrets. And those bees? They took a particular interest in Mark’s yard, drawn to the sugary soda cans and garbage he always forgot to cover.
Bees buzzing in a sunflower garden | Source: Midjourney A grandmother working in her sunflower garden | Source: Midjourney
Every time he came out, swatting and muttering, the bees swarmed just close enough to remind him. I’d watch from my rocking chair, all innocence and smiles.
Just a sweet old lady, right? The kind who plants flowers, tends to bees, and doesn’t forget.
A grandmother working in her sunflower garden | Source: Midjourney
What can you learn from Mark on how not to treat your neighbors?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you.
After her divorce, Hayley pours her heart into the perfect lawn, until her entitled neighbor starts driving over it like it’s a shortcut to nowhere. What begins as a petty turf war turns into something deeper: a fierce, funny, and satisfying reclamation of boundaries, dignity, and self-worth.
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