Think you know her? You might want to take a seat before discovering who she really is

Joan van Ark was born on June 16, 1943, in New York City, far from the world of entertainment. Her life took a significant turn during her teenage years while acting in Denver, where she met actress Julie Harris, who would greatly influence her career. Julie encouraged Joan to apply to the prestigious Yale Drama School and even helped her secure a scholarship, making Joan the second woman ever to enroll there.

Joan recalled: “Harris wrote to the dean and asked him to meet me. Long story short, my parents drove me to New Haven, Connecticut, where the dean awarded me a scholarship. It felt destined”. After honing her skills in theater, Joan shifted her focus to television, where she starred in shows like Temperature’s RisingSpider-WomanDays of Our Lives, and even made a guest appearance on Bonanza. However, it was her role as Valene Ewing on Dallas in 1978 that propelled her to stardom.

Her success on Dallas led to her starring in its spin-off, Knots Landing, which was actually developed before Dallas. Initially, Joan was set to join the Knots Landing cast, but she ended up reprising her role on Dallas first. It was her husband, newscaster John Marshall, who encouraged her to accept the role despite her busy schedule. When it was announced that Julie Harris would play Val’s mother, Joan was thrilled. “I couldn’t believe they had picked her to be my mother”, she recalled in a 1984 interview.

After 13 seasons and 327 episodes on Knots Landing, Joan left the show just before its final season. While many speculated that her departure contributed to the show’s cancellation, she was ready for new challenges. “I loved my time on that show”, she stated, expressing gratitude to the show’s creator, David Jacobs, and her co-star, Ted Shackelford, who she considered family.

Joan and John, who met in high school, have been happily married for over 58 years and share a daughter, Vanessa Marshall, who works in the entertainment industry. Now at 81, Joan has a net worth of $10 million and remains stunning. She was last spotted five years ago, casually paying for parking in workout attire.

Her most recent appearance was in the 2017 television film Psycho Wedding Crasher. After a remarkable 50-year career in entertainment, Joan van Ark is now a life member of The Actor’s Studio, solidifying her legacy as an icon.

My MIL Came to My Work Demanding I Pay for Expensive Caviar, the Lesson I Taught Her Had Everyone Applauding

The faint store music couldn’t drown out the sound of her heels clicking on the polished floor as she made her grand entrance. Denise had that air of superiority, as if everyone should pause and admire her presence. And to be honest, she expected just that.

Dressed in a tailored designer coat, oversized sunglasses (despite being indoors), and a diamond necklace that probably cost more than my annual salary, she exuded the “look-at-me” vibe she always carried.

When she headed straight for my register, I felt my stomach flip. What on earth was she doing here? Denise had never come to my job before, and I sincerely wished it could have stayed that way forever. Her disapproving looks and passive-aggressive comments had always made me feel two inches tall, constantly reminding me I wasn’t “good enough” for her beloved son, Jack.

We’ve been married for five years, but my MIL never stopped finding ways to remind me of my supposed shortcomings. Jack, trying to avoid conflict, always took the easy way out, saying, “That’s just how Mom is.” His unwillingness to stand up for me drove me crazy, but I loved him and hoped Denise would eventually get tired of her antics. For years, I bit my tongue and let her behavior slide. But not anymore. Yesterday was the last straw.

Denise stopped in front of my register, her fake smile sending chills down my spine. In her arms were two cans of caviar—the finest, most expensive variety, each costing more than a month’s rent.

“Sweetheart,” she cooed in her signature tone that masked her condescension, placing the tins on the counter with a soft thud. She glanced around, probably ensuring she had an audience before continuing. “I need you to take care of this.”

I blinked, confused. “Sure,” I said, reaching to scan the cans.

But she stopped me with an exaggerated sigh. “No, dear. I need you to take care of it,” she clarified, her voice laced with irritation, as if explaining something obvious to a child.

“Take care of it?” I repeated, unsure if I had misunderstood.

Denise tilted her head, giving me a pitying look. “Yes, darling, pay for it. You’ve always been a bit slow, haven’t you?” she sneered. “I’m hosting a dinner party tonight, and my guests expect nothing but the best. I’m sure Jack won’t mind if you help out. After all, it’s what family does.”

I stared at her, stunned. Did she really just ask me to pay hundreds of dollars for caviar on the spot?

“Denise, that’s a lot of money,” I began, trying to stay calm.

But she waved me off. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. Jack will cover it. You’re his wife, and it’s your job to help out with things like this.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure Jack knows how uncooperative you’re being.”

That was the final straw.

I had tolerated a lot from Denise over the years, but this? This was different. She expected me to foot the bill for her extravagant party and had the nerve to try and manipulate me into it.

I could feel my coworkers and customers watching, sensing the tension. My heart pounded, but I knew exactly what I had to do. I forced a smile and leaned in, pretending to play along.

“You know what, Denise?” I said, my voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “You’re absolutely right. I will take care of it.”

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She thought she had won. “I knew you’d see reason,” she purred.

I scanned the caviar, watching the price rise on the register. Then, without hesitation, I pressed the microphone button connected to the store’s PA system.

“Attention, shoppers,” my voice echoed through the store. “I’d like to introduce you to a very special guest—my mother-in-law, Denise! She’s here to buy two cans of our finest caviar and has graciously asked me, her daughter-in-law, to pay for them. Let’s give her a round of applause for being such a generous family member!”

For a split second, there was silence. Then, someone in the back began clapping, followed by a few others. Within moments, the whole store erupted in applause! My coworkers were grinning, and even the customers were chuckling and clapping along.

Denise’s face flushed a deep shade of red. She glared at me, her voice low and furious. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

I smiled sweetly. “Oh, I just thought everyone should know how generous you are. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Without another word, she grabbed the bagged caviar, lips pressed into a thin line, and stormed out of the store. The applause and laughter continued as she clicked her way across the floor and out the door.

After she left, my coworker Rachel sidled up to me, barely containing her laughter. “That,” she whispered, “was the most legendary thing I’ve ever seen.”

Even the store manager, who had been watching from the back, gave me a wink. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said with a grin.

I finished my shift on a high note. It wasn’t just the applause or the fact that I had finally stood up to Denise in a public way—it was knowing that, for once, I had outplayed her.

Later that night, when I got home, I braced myself for the fallout. Jack was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, both confused and amused.

“So… what exactly happened with my mom today?” he asked, fighting back a laugh.

I sat down and told him everything. I expected him to be angry, but instead, he shook his head, barely holding in his laughter.

“You know,” he said, “I think she might leave us alone for a while.”

And you know what? He was right. Since then, my MIL hasn’t called, texted, or shown up.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*