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.

My Parents Arranged a Marriage for Me, So I Decided to Test My Wealthy Fiancé

When Nadia returns home from college abroad, she has no choice but to agree to an arranged marriage to a wealthy man—a man chosen by her parents. But as the tentative date for their wedding draws closer, Nadia decides to test him, to truly understand who she’s marrying.

I never imagined that I’d find myself disguised as a homeless woman, sitting on a sidewalk outside of a restaurant. I sat there, hunched with a shawl wrapped around my shoulders.

A woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels

People passed me without paying any attention, as I watched for the sleek black car that often carried my fiancé, Danny.

Despite it being the 21st century, in my culture, arranged marriage still holds its own.

A black Mercedes-Benz | Source: Pexels

But I had been studying in America for the past four years, and my ideal of independence and personal freedom was something very different from what I had left home with.

Now, I found myself rebelling at every turn.

A woman in a red coat | Source: Pexels

When my parents first broke the news of my engagement to Danny, I was still ensconced in the States—my mind buzzing with new ideologies and lectures on autonomy.

“Now that you’ve been abroad and have studied,” my mother said, “it’s time for you to become a wife.”

I tried to protest, but it always fell on deaf ears.

A smiling woman in a white dress | Source: Pexels

“Nadia,” my mother said, “there is no choice here. Your father and I have done our research. Danny is a good one. He will take care of you.”

My mother moved around the kitchen, mixing a concoction of spices as she began to cook dinner.

Assorted cooking spices | Source: Pexels

“And that’s just it?” I asked, making some tea. “I have to marry this man?”

She nodded and smiled at me.

“Nadia, your father and I did it—we had an arranged marriage, and everything turned out well for us.”

A bride and groom holding hands | Source: Pexels

Now, I was faced with meeting a stranger whom I was going to marry—a stranger and his affluent family.

“You’re going to meet him soon, and his family. They own a line of restaurants, darling. They’re always going out of their way to help people.”

Restaurant interior | Source: Pexels

A few days later, we were all settled around the dining table. It was the first time that I was meeting Danny, and I had no idea what to expect.

When I stepped out of the house, he was there in the driveway, dressed in a suit—holding a gift bag and flowers.

A bouquet of roses | Source: Pexels

On first impression, he was good-looking, but I needed him to be more than just a nice face to look at.

This man was going to be my husband. I was stuck with him. And judging from the way my parents were behaving, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

A man wearing a suit | Source: Pexels

As my father welcomed Danny and his parents into our home, my mother brought out a tray of tea and sweets.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” she said, “so I got everything.”

Tea on a tray | Source: Unsplash

Danny smiled at her; he seemed to genuinely care about impressing my parents. We exchanged polite conversation during the tea, and when it was time for us to have dinner, we sat around the table.

“Danny,” my father said, pointing to the head of the table, “sit here.”

My mother began to fuss over Danny and his family, ensuring that she piled their plates high with food.

A table full of food | Source: Pexels

“I need you to leave here knowing that you’ve been fed,” she said.

I poured myself a glass of juice. It was going to be a long meal.

“Why did you decide to study in America?” Danny asked me, frowning over his glass of water. “Didn’t you want to stay around family?”

Juice in glass bottles | Source: Pexels

“I applied not thinking that I could get in,” I admitted. “But then I did, and I wanted it to be a new challenge for me.”

“But being away for so long?” he pressed. “I bet you spent time in the library.”

“It was just four years. I came home a few times anyway.”

A library | Source: Pexels

“Family is very important to me, Nadia,” he said firmly.

I looked at my mother, who refused to meet my eye. Without me replying to Danny, the silence took over for a few moments. Only the sound of scraping cutlery and chewing could be heard.

A woman eating | Source: Unsplash

“Tell Nadia about your charity,” my father said, beaming at me.

“Oh!” Danny’s mother exclaimed, quickly putting her fork down.

She went on at length about how Danny feeds homeless people all the time, and that he had scheduled a roster for different areas around us.

Bags of food | Source: Unsplash

“Nobody will go hungry if we can help it,” Danny’s mother said.

My goodness, I thought to myself as I dug into my chicken. Do I really need to bear this for the rest of my life?

The dinner ended, and my husband-to-be left the house.

A plate of food | Source: Unsplash

“Don’t you love him?” my mother asked as we washed up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

“I don’t know him, Mom,” I said.

“But you will,” she replied, drying the plates with a dish towel. “You will get to know him soon.”

A person washing a glass | Source: Pexels

I didn’t have the energy to deal with it further. I went to my bedroom and sat down, wondering how I could just give in to tradition after having been away and free for so long.

I yearned for my college dorm and the liberation that had come with it. But I also knew that I would have to let go of that.

A woman in her room | Source: Pexels

Instead, I had to wait for the day of my arranged marriage. As the months closed in, the wedding drew closer, and I began to get anxious—needing pills to sleep.

I didn’t know how I was going to marry Danny, knowing only the bare minimum about him.

One morning, while pouring myself some cereal, I decided that I would dress like a homeless person and wait outside the restaurant that Danny was based at. I needed to see how he would react to someone in need.

A bowl of cereal | Source: Pexels

As the car approached, I huddled into my disguise, my voice hoarse as Danny stepped out of the car.

“Excuse me, Sir,” I said. “Could you spare…”

Danny paused, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Ma’am, what do you need? I can’t just hand you money or food for the day. We need to help you long-term.”

A man frowning | Source: Pexels

My heart tightened.

“There’s a shelter not far from here,” he said. “I can take you there, my mother volunteers there, too. You’ll be safe there. You can get a meal, a shower, clean clothing, and we can talk about getting you on your feet.”

I stood up and pulled my shawl away, revealing myself to him.

“Nadia?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

“I was testing you, Danny,” I said. “I wanted to see if you really are the person they say you are. I just needed to know. How else can I marry you?”

Danny looked stunned, then a wry smile spread across his face.

“I guess I should be honest too, then. I’ve been horrible on purpose, hoping you’d call off the wedding.”

His candidness took me aback.

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair as he silenced his ringing phone.

“Because I thought it was all a farce. I didn’t want to be part of an arrangement. Not really. I knew that it needed to be done, because of my age. But I’ve wanted love. I’ve wanted to marry for love.”

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

As we sat down on a nearby bench, Danny opened up about his past.

“The parents you met are my adopted parents. My mother died when I was very young, and they took me in. I’ve built my entire persona to help people who are where I once was. It’s not just philanthropy—it’s personal.”

His words echoed in the cold air—each syllable heavy with emotion.

“Yes, I am successful. But I never wanted to use that success as leverage for a marriage. I wanted someone to see me, not my money or my past.”

Flowers on a grave | Source: Pexels

We talked through the evening, unraveling the misunderstandings and the pressure from our families. It was the first time we truly connected, seeing each other beyond the expectations set upon us.

In the weeks that followed, we began dating—real dates, filled with genuine laughter and shared dreams. Our parents saw the change in us, the way we looked at each other with newfound respect and affection.

Soon, we’ll be married, but now, I’m content with the reality of it.

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one:

When Elle’s mother passes away, she moves through the funeral in a daze. But then, she stumbles upon a man who closely resembles her. When he approaches her, he reveals that he is her biological father—who had been hidden away all this time. Elle doesn’t know whether she should tell her father and risk losing the only other parent she has ever known.

Read the full story here.

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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