Rich Young Woman Mocks Poor Old Man, Two Days Later Karma Strikes

A wealthy young woman makes fun of the janitor at her father’s company, and he decides to teach her a lesson she will never forget.

Danielle Grobber had always gotten what she wanted. She was pretty, smart, talented, and very, very rich. At least, her father was very rich, and she always thought his money belonged to her.

Danielle, or Danie, as her friends called her, was a bit spoiled, but she usually used her charm and bright smile to get out of trouble. Then she crossed a line, and her father gave her a lesson she would never forget.

Danielle was excited to go on a two-week vacation to the Caribbean. She had convinced her father to take her shopping, even though she didn’t really need anything; she just loved spending time with him.

Unfortunately, her dad had to skip their lunch to handle some urgent matters. So, Danielle wandered around until she found a famous fast food restaurant. She ordered a burger, fries, a large soda, and an apple pie.

After getting her food, she walked back to her dad’s building, which had a nice lawn with trees, benches, and fountains. She sat down to eat while texting her friends on her phone.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth, crumpled the napkin, and put on her lipstick. Then she got up and walked away, leaving the trash on the bench.

Source: Unsplash

A voice suddenly stopped her. “Excuse me, miss!” it said. “Please pick up your trash and throw it in the bin.”

Danie turned around and saw a thin old man in a janitor’s uniform who was sweeping the path. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you talking to ME?”

“Yes, young lady,” he replied. “This park is for everyone who works here, and it’s not fair to leave trash behind.”

Source: Unsplash

“I don’t clean up!” Danie said proudly. “People clean up for me. People like you—the servant class. Isn’t that your job? So just do it!”

The elderly man turned red. “Young lady,” he said. “My job is to keep this building and garden clean, but what you did is rude…”

Source: Unsplash

Danie interrupted him. “You work for my father, so you work for me! If I tell you to clean up, you clean up. If I tell you to lick my shoes, you do that too, or I’ll get you fired!”

Just then, Danie heard a loud voice: “DANIELLE!” She turned to see her father looking very angry. “Who do you think you are?” Jack Grobber asked. “How dare you treat this man poorly? He has worked for me for over 20 years, and he has a family!”

Source: Unsplash

“Daddy?” Danie said in her sweetest voice. “Please don’t be mad! I’m so sorry!” But her father saw a hint of mockery in her smile. Danie thought she would get away with it, just like always.

“Apologize to Mr. Terence, Danielle,” Jack ordered. He watched as she turned to the janitor, trying to act charming, but he knew it was fake.

Jack thought, “It’s my fault. I have to fix this!” But how could he change a lifetime of being spoiled and teach her about respect and responsibility?

Source: Unsplash

Then he had a great idea. “Mr. Terence, you look tired!” he said. “I think you need a vacation!”

Mr. Terence smiled and shook his head. “My wife says the same, Mr. Grobber, but I’m saving my vacation days for Christmas with the grandkids!”

“That’s okay, Mr. Terence,” Jack said. “I’m giving you two weeks off and an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas for you and your wife!”

Mr. Terence was shocked. “Sir? The Bahamas? But who will do my job?”

Source: Unsplash

“Don’t worry, Mr. Terence,” Jack said with a smile. “My daughter Danielle will be happy to do your job while you’re away to make up for how she treated you.”

“WHAT?” screamed Danie. “Are you crazy, Dad? I’m going on vacation!”

“Not anymore,” Jack said. “Mr. and Mrs. Terence will go instead, and you will take his place while he is away.”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Danie yelled. “I’m not a janitor! Cleaning toilets? Sweeping? Picking up trash? I won’t do it!”

“Yes, you will,” her father said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll cut off your allowance and take away your convertible…”

Source: Unsplash

“It’s MY car!” Danie cried.

“No, Danielle,” Jack said softly. “It’s MY car. I pay for it all. Everything you have is because of me. It’s time you learn how hard people work for every dollar.”

Danie knew her father well, and she could see in his eyes that she had crossed a line. He would not change his mind!

“You start on Monday,” Jack told her. Then he turned to Mr. Terence. “You should go home and pack! Enjoy your trip!”

On Monday morning, Danie showed up in her uniform, ready to clean and sweep. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, her pretty nails were ruined, and her soft hands were sore.

When Mr. Terence returned from the Bahamas with a nice tan, he told Mr. Grobber that Danielle had done a great job keeping everything clean—no trash in the garden!

From then on, Danie never disrespected anyone who worked hard because she understood how tough that job really was!

Danielle was excited to go on a two-week vacation to the Caribbean. She had convinced her father to take her shopping, even though she didn’t really need anything; she just loved spending time with him.

Unfortunately, her dad had to skip their lunch to handle some urgent matters. So, Danielle wandered around until she found a famous fast food restaurant. She ordered a burger, fries, a large soda, and an apple pie.

Source: Unsplash

After getting her food, she walked back to her dad’s building, which had a nice lawn with trees, benches, and fountains. She sat down to eat while texting her friends on her phone.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth, crumpled the napkin, and put on her lipstick. Then she got up and walked away, leaving the trash on the bench.

Source: Unsplash

A voice suddenly stopped her. “Excuse me, miss!” it said. “Please pick up your trash and throw it in the bin.”

Danie turned around and saw a thin old man in a janitor’s uniform who was sweeping the path. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you talking to ME?”

“Yes, young lady,” he replied. “This park is for everyone who works here, and it’s not fair to leave trash behind.”

Source: Unsplash

“I don’t clean up!” Danie said proudly. “People clean up for me. People like you—the servant class. Isn’t that your job? So just do it!”

The elderly man turned red. “Young lady,” he said. “My job is to keep this building and garden clean, but what you did is rude…”

Source: Unsplash

Danie interrupted him. “You work for my father, so you work for me! If I tell you to clean up, you clean up. If I tell you to lick my shoes, you do that too, or I’ll get you fired!”

Just then, Danie heard a loud voice: “DANIELLE!” She turned to see her father looking very angry. “Who do you think you are?” Jack Grobber asked. “How dare you treat this man poorly? He has worked for me for over 20 years, and he has a family!”

Source: Unsplash

“Daddy?” Danie said in her sweetest voice. “Please don’t be mad! I’m so sorry!” But her father saw a hint of mockery in her smile. Danie thought she would get away with it, just like always.

“Apologize to Mr. Terence, Danielle,” Jack ordered. He watched as she turned to the janitor, trying to act charming, but he knew it was fake.

Jack thought, “It’s my fault. I have to fix this!” But how could he change a lifetime of being spoiled and teach her about respect and responsibility?

Source: Unsplash

Then he had a great idea. “Mr. Terence, you look tired!” he said. “I think you need a vacation!”

Mr. Terence smiled and shook his head. “My wife says the same, Mr. Grobber, but I’m saving my vacation days for Christmas with the grandkids!”

“That’s okay, Mr. Terence,” Jack said. “I’m giving you two weeks off and an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas for you and your wife!”

Mr. Terence was shocked. “Sir? The Bahamas? But who will do my job?”

Source: Unsplash

“Don’t worry, Mr. Terence,” Jack said with a smile. “My daughter Danielle will be happy to do your job while you’re away to make up for how she treated you.”

“WHAT?” screamed Danie. “Are you crazy, Dad? I’m going on vacation!”

“Not anymore,” Jack said. “Mr. and Mrs. Terence will go instead, and you will take his place while he is away.”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Danie yelled. “I’m not a janitor! Cleaning toilets? Sweeping? Picking up trash? I won’t do it!”

“Yes, you will,” her father said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll cut off your allowance and take away your convertible…”

Source: Unsplash

“It’s MY car!” Danie cried.

“No, Danielle,” Jack said softly. “It’s MY car. I pay for it all. Everything you have is because of me. It’s time you learn how hard people work for every dollar.”

Danie knew her father well, and she could see in his eyes that she had crossed a line. He would not change his mind!

“You start on Monday,” Jack told her. Then he turned to Mr. Terence. “You should go home and pack! Enjoy your trip!”

On Monday morning, Danie showed up in her uniform, ready to clean and sweep. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, her pretty nails were ruined, and her soft hands were sore.

When Mr. Terence returned from the Bahamas with a nice tan, he told Mr. Grobber that Danielle had done a great job keeping everything clean—no trash in the garden!

From then on, Danie never disrespected anyone who worked hard because she understood how tough that job really was!

I Returned Home from My Daughter’s Funeral to Find a Tent in My Backyard — I Went Pale at What I Found Inside

After burying her eight-year-old daughter, Lily, Ashley returns home, drowning in grief and exhaustion. But something unexpected awaits in her backyard, pulling her out of the numbness and forcing her to confront a mystery she never could have anticipated.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, even though I thought I was. They said it would be peaceful at the end, and maybe it was for Lily. But for me, the pain cut deeper than anything I could imagine. My little girl was gone, and I didn’t know how to make sense of a world without her in it.

A grieving woman | Source: Pexels

A grieving woman | Source: Pexels

It’s been a week since we laid her to rest. The days leading up to her death were a blur of hospital beds, whispered prayers, and the slow, cruel slipping away of her laughter. Today, we buried her, but it didn’t feel real. I moved through the funeral like a shadow of myself. Family and friends came, faces blurred by my tears.

“Ashley, I’m so sorry,” Aunt Ruth said, wrapping me in her arms. Her perfume was too strong. I didn’t want to be hugged. I just wanted Lily.

Two grieving women hugging | Source: Pexels

Two grieving women hugging | Source: Pexels

“She was such a light,” someone else added. I nodded, but I couldn’t really hear them.

All I could think of was Lily’s laugh. How her little giggle could fill a room. I’d never hear it again. That thought crushed me more than anything. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

A silent woman looking at a headstone | Source: Pexels

A silent woman looking at a headstone | Source: Pexels

As people filtered out, offering their condolences, I just kept staring at the empty chair where Lily should’ve been. My body felt heavy, like I was dragging myself through mud, and my mind kept wandering back to her final days.

“Let me know if you need anything,” a voice said as I walked out of the cemetery. I nodded but didn’t respond. What could anyone do?

A crying, grieving woman | Source: Pexels

A crying, grieving woman | Source: Pexels

The drive home was silent. I couldn’t turn on the radio—music felt wrong, somehow. I just wanted quiet. The kind of quiet where you can pretend the world stopped with your grief.

When I pulled into the driveway, I wasn’t even sure how I got there. I sat in the car for a minute, staring at the house, trying to gather the energy to go inside. I didn’t want to face that empty space. Not without her.

But something stopped me before I could get out.

A woman driving at night | Source: Pexels

A woman driving at night | Source: Pexels

There, in the backyard, was a tent.

A huge, brightly colored tent. The kind you’d see at a circus. Red and yellow stripes, with little flags fluttering at the top. It didn’t make sense. My heart jumped into my throat.

“What… is that?” I whispered to myself.

A bright tent | Source: Pexels

A bright tent | Source: Pexels

I blinked, rubbed my eyes. Maybe I was hallucinating. Grief does strange things to people, right? I was exhausted and emotionally drained. But no, the tent was still there. Bold, bright, and out of place. It was like a splash of color in a black-and-white world.

I got out of the car slowly, my legs feeling like they might give way at any second. Who would put a tent in my yard? And on today, of all days? My head spun with questions. Was this some sort of prank? Or had I completely lost it?

A shocked woman | Source: Freepik

A shocked woman | Source: Freepik

I walked closer, every step feeling heavier than the last. The wind picked up, rustling the colorful flags on top of the tent. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

“This can’t be real,” I muttered, clenching my fists.

A sad, thoughtful woman | Source: Pexels

A sad, thoughtful woman | Source: Pexels

But it was real. As I got closer, I could see the details—the stitching on the fabric, the wooden stakes holding it in place. My mind raced. There was no note, no sign of who had put it there or why.

I reached out, my hand trembling as I touched the flap of the tent. It felt solid, real. My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to open it, but I had to know what was inside.

A huge lit up tent | Source: Unsplash

A huge lit up tent | Source: Unsplash

With a deep breath, I gripped the edge of the flap and pulled it open.

I opened it slowly, my breath shallow, heart racing. Inside, there was something bundled up in the middle of the space. For a second, my mind couldn’t make sense of it. It was wrapped in a blanket, small and still. My stomach twisted, and I couldn’t stop the flood of memories that hit me all at once.

A small blanket with something inside | Source: Midjourney

A small blanket with something inside | Source: Midjourney

Lily, lying in the hospital bed. So pale. So fragile. The tubes, the machines. I remember her tiny body swallowed by the blankets, the way she barely moved in those last few days. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of it all.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “No, not again…”

I took a step forward, my whole body shaking. The sight in front of me felt like another cruel joke, like the world was mocking me. Why today? Why now?

A scared woman | Source: Pexels

A scared woman | Source: Pexels

Suddenly, the bundle moved.

I gasped, freezing in place. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears. For a split second, I didn’t know what to do. My mind spun, expecting the worst, preparing for more pain.

A blanket in a tent | Source: Midjourney

A blanket in a tent | Source: Midjourney

But then, a small head popped out from under the blanket. A tiny Labrador puppy, its fur soft and golden like sunlight. It blinked up at me with wide, curious eyes, a pink bow tied around its neck. My breath caught in my throat. I stared, completely overwhelmed.

“What… what are you doing here?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

A small Labrador puppy | Source: Unsplash

A small Labrador puppy | Source: Unsplash

The puppy wiggled out of the blanket and stumbled toward me, wagging its little tail. It was so full of life, so innocent, a stark contrast to the grief that had consumed me for so long. I knelt down slowly, reaching out to touch the soft fur, still in disbelief. My fingers trembled as they brushed against the puppy’s coat, warm and alive.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Why is there a puppy here? Who did this?” My voice broke, the confusion mixing with the heavy sadness I had carried all day.

A sad tearful woman | Source:Freepik

A sad tearful woman | Source:Freepik

As I stroked the puppy, I noticed something else—an envelope tucked under the blanket. My heart skipped a beat. With shaking hands, I picked it up and stared at it for a moment. The handwriting on the front was familiar. My breath hitched as I recognized it. Lily’s handwriting. Messy, but hers.

Tears blurred my vision as I carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a note, short and simple. My hands shook as I read the words.

An envelope with a note | Source: Pexels

An envelope with a note | Source: Pexels

“Dear Mommy,

I know you’re sad because I had to go to heaven. But I wanted to leave you something to help you smile again. I asked Daddy to get you a puppy, so you’ll have someone to cuddle with when you’re missing me. Her name is Daisy, and she loves to play! Please take care of her for me. I’ll always be with you, watching from above. I love you so much.

Love, Lily.”

A child writing a letter | Source: Pexels

A child writing a letter | Source: Pexels

I dropped to my knees, clutching the note to my chest. The tears came in waves, and I couldn’t stop them. I cried harder than I had at the funeral. Harder than I had since the moment I knew I was losing her.

“Lily…” I sobbed, my voice barely a whisper.

A close-up shot of a crying woman | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a crying woman | Source: Pexels

Even in her final days, my sweet little girl had been thinking of me. She knew. She knew how much I’d miss her, how much it would hurt. And she found a way to make sure I wouldn’t be alone. A puppy. A new life to care for, to love.

I held Daisy close, the warmth of her little body grounding me in the moment. I could still feel Lily’s presence. The tent, the puppy—it was all part of her last gift to me. A way to remind me that even though she was gone, her love would always be with me.

A labrador puppy looking up | Source: Freepik

A labrador puppy looking up | Source: Freepik

The tent didn’t feel so strange anymore. It was a place for me to find Daisy, a place to feel connected to Lily one more time.

Over the next few days, Daisy became my shadow. She followed me everywhere, her tiny paws tapping on the floor as she scampered after me. At first, I didn’t know what to do. How could I care for this puppy when my heart was so shattered?

A sad woman hugging herself | Source: Pexels

A sad woman hugging herself | Source: Pexels

But Daisy didn’t give me much choice. She’d nuzzle into my side when I was curled up on the couch, licking my hand until I smiled through my tears. She’d bounce around with her little pink bow, full of energy and joy, reminding me of the brightness Lily used to bring.

Every morning, I’d sit with my coffee, Daisy at my feet, and I’d think of Lily. I’d imagine her watching over me, her smile still lighting up the sky. And every time Daisy curled up in my lap, I felt a piece of Lily’s love wrapping around me.

a woman with her dog | Source: Pexels

a woman with her dog | Source: Pexels

Daisy wasn’t a replacement. Nothing could ever replace my Lily. But she was a part of her. A living, breathing reminder of the love Lily left behind. Slowly, day by day, the weight on my chest lightened, just a little.

Taking care of Daisy pulled me out of the fog I’d been in. I had to get up, feed her, play with her. She needed me, just like Lily had known I’d need her.

A smiling woman with her dog | Source: Pexels

A smiling woman with her dog | Source: Pexels

Lily had given me one final gift: a reason to keep going. And even though the pain of losing her would never fully go away, I knew now that I wasn’t facing it alone.

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: A splitting headache sent me home early, and I hoped for a quiet afternoon alone. But seeing my daughter, who should’ve been at school, and her stepdad behind that closed door shook me to my core. What I discovered tore my heart in two and left me in tears.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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