The takeaway joint downstairs from my apartment was expensive, but the food was delicious. I ordered from there almost every day. At first, they’d pack exactly what I asked for. Then, if I asked for $30 worth, they’d pack $50. If I asked for $50, they’d load me up with $100. I knew they were struggling, so I always paid the full amount without a word, thinking I was helping them out. This morning, I was rushing to work, my driver honking impatiently. After grabbing my order, I noticed the paper bag was tearing. Without thinking, I grabbed two extra plastic bags from the counter. I didn’t say anything to the owner, just hurried into the car. Turns out, at lunchtime, the owner’s mom tracked me down at my office, demanding I pay for them. She stood there, in front of all my colleagues, screaming insults, calling me a cheap, shameless thief. That’s when it hit me. Some people just aren’t worth your sympathy or your help. 0I slept late last night and overslept this morning. I threw myself together and rushed out the door. The driver was already waiting, and that’s when I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I yelled to the owner to just pack me $30 worth of fried chicken and fries to go. I was in a hurry. But when she weighed it, the total came to $56.90. I just shrugged, paid, and reached for my order. That’s when I saw the paper bag was ripped, sauce already leaking onto my hand. The owner looked swamped, so I figured it was just a small thing and didn’t want to bother her. I quickly grabbed two plastic bags from the counter and dove into the car. Twenty minutes after arriving at the office, I hadn’t even touched my food. My butt hadn’t even warmed the seat yet. My colleague, Mark, told me someone was asking for me. I thought it was an early client meeting. I tidied up my outfit and headed to the entrance. As I got to the door, I saw a familiar face: Agnes Thompson, the fast-food owner’s mom. Her voice was sharp, spitting venom, spittle flying everywhere. “You ran off without paying! And you work at a big company? How shameless can you be?” My mind raced, trying to figure it out. Did my card decline because of a weak signal? I meticulously checked my payment history. Nope, it went through. I paid with my credit card. There had to be a misunderstanding, I thought. I calmly and politely tried to explain to her. “Agnes, I just checked. I definitely paid. Is it possible there was a network delay on your end, and the payment just hasn’t registered yet?” I practically shoved my payment history in her face. “See for yourself if you don’t believe me. I have the record right here. You must be mistaken.” “You paid for the chicken, sure, but don’t you forget, you grabbed several extra bags on your way out! Those bags are fifty cents each! What, am I supposed to give them away for free? Do I owe you something?!” Instead of clearing things up, she just got more agitated, ready for a full-blown argument. “You walk around here all prim and proper, looking like you own the place, but in the end, you’re trying to screw over a small business owner like me!” “Does this big company not check people’s character when they hire? Call your boss out here! Let him see your true colors!” “I know what this is. You think I’m just an old lady, easy to push around, easy to take advantage of. Taking things without paying! Don’t think for a second I’m too shy to come here and demand my money!” “Everyone here! Come judge this old lady! She’s bullying me!” 0
Agnes’s voice echoed through the office, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. Her shouting drew everyone’s attention. People started curiously gathering around, wanting to see what was happening. Even my team leader, David, was alarmed. David rushed over, and seeing Agnes so upset, immediately started trying to calm her down, without even asking me for my side of the story first. He said to me, “Alex, just pay her quickly. Let’s get this over with. It’s not easy for an old lady to come all the way here. Let’s not argue and make things unpleasant, it’ll reflect badly on the company.” I thought about it and figured David had a point. After all, it was just a dollar. It wasn’t worth causing a huge scene over. Besides, my big client was arriving in half an hour. I really didn’t have the energy to argue with Agnes. I swallowed my anger, giving David a cold, terse “Okay.” “Agnes, I was truly rushing to catch my ride today and left in a hurry. And even though I only asked for $30 worth of food, you still packed me $56.90. I also had no idea you charged for extra bags, so that’s my mistake. My apologies. Please open your payment app, and I’ll pay you now.” When I explained what happened, the colleagues watching understood the situation and gave me sympathetic looks. Agnes shot me a venomous glare. “Fine, you’re smart enough to know when to quit. I’ll let you off the hook this time. But if you ever try to skip out on bag fees again, I won’t sell to you. My takeaway joint doesn’t welcome people with low morals.” Hearing that, I nearly exploded with rage. But I couldn’t stand to look at her for another second, so I quickly opened my phone and paid. “Payment received: $1.” A crisp notification sounded. I thought that was the end of it. But Agnes wasn’t done pushing her luck. Her nose practically touching the ceiling, her aggressive swagger undiminished, she pointed a bony finger right at my face and said: “One dollar? Are you trying to pay off a beggar? I caught you red-handed today, but who knows how many times you’ve secretly taken my bags before?!” “You’re so young, why are you so rotten and malicious?” I clenched my jaw, forcing the words out through gritted teeth: “So tell me! How much do you want?!” “Since you’re such a regular at my fried chicken place, at least… $50!” She named an outrageous price. Seeing my stunned silence, her tone grew even sharper and more scornful. “You casually spend dozens of dollars on a single meal, but you won’t give me $50? Have you no shame?” I didn’t want to argue with her anymore. I just transferred her $50 and told her to leave. She took the money, a smirk on her face. “You’re so rich anyway, what’s it matter who you spend it on? Might as well be me.” Then she beamed and walked away. My mind reeled. $50? Why don’t you just rob me?! Fifty dollars for two plastic bags?! You old hag, you know I come to your place every day for fried chicken, don’t you? I saw that you had three kids, and you were struggling to make ends meet. Every time I bought something, you’d give me extra, dozens of dollars more than I asked for, and I just saw it as helping out someone less fortunate. I never said a word. My dad had suggested raising your rent multiple times, but I knew your family was tight on cash, and I liked your food, so I told him not to. And here you are, coming after me for a measly plastic bag? I didn’t even complain about your torn bag! It’s true what they say: kindness is often mistaken for weakness. I watched her retreating back, a smirk playing on my lips. You just messed with the wrong person. 0
The moment Agnes stormed off, a collective sigh of relief swept through the office. Colleagues gathered around me, offering comfort: “Alex, with old folks like that, you just have to cut your losses. If you don’t pay, they’ll just keep making a scene. Don’t take it to heart.” “My eyes have truly been opened today. Talk about a total ingrate!” one colleague said indignantly. “Exactly! Her place is Thompson’s Takeaway, right? I used to like it, but I’m never going there again!” Then Kevin, a male colleague who always seemed to have an issue with me, chimed in with his usual condescending tone: “Well, Alex was the one who didn’t pay first, wasn’t he? She’s not wrong. Is it really appropriate for you all to talk about an old lady behind her back like this?” “Why don’t you say it to her face if you’re so brave?” His voice was dripping with provocation. I gave him a look that could curdle milk, my voice icy: “Why are you so chatty? What’s it to you, Kevin?!” His face went from red to pale. His mouth opened and closed, but he wisely decided to keep it shut. Some people, you just had to call them out directly, no holds barred. I told my dad what happened. My dad wasn’t one to say “I told you so” after the fact; instead, he gently comforted me: “Alex, don’t worry about it. We just won’t eat there anymore, okay? With her attitude, they’ll go out of business eventually.” My dad’s voice was thick with anger. “That storefront! I’d rather let it sit empty than rent it to them again! They messed with my kid, my precious boy!” “How much longer is their lease?” I pressed. “About a month.” “Then don’t give them any time to prepare. Just tell them to pack up and get out when it’s due.” My voice was cold. “Alright! Whatever you say!” My dad firmly supported my decision. My dad was often away for work, so it was just my mom and me at home. My mom was a university professor, usually at school, rarely home, so I mostly lived alone. I didn’t dwell on the incident. After all, if a dog bites you, it’s not your fault. On my way home from work, I bought a lot of fancy pastries from a bakery and a large box of freshly cut durian. The Thompson family had three children. The eldest daughter was studying at college out of state. The middle daughter, Ashley, was 13 and just started middle school. The youngest son, Billy, was in elementary school. As I passed their takeaway, the two younger Thompson kids excitedly ran up to me. Ashley followed close behind, her eyes wide with longing. “Alex, what did you buy? It looks so good!” I knew what she was thinking and frankly said, “Small cakes and durian! What’s up? Anything you need? No? I’m going home then.” Billy’s eyes lit up at the word ‘durian.’ He reached out, trying to tug at my bag. “Alex, how did you know I wanted durian today? Hurry, open it and let me have a piece!” I held the bag high, looking at him with clear disdain. “Want some? Go buy it yourself! If you don’t have money, ask your dad!” Billy looked up, clearly annoyed. “My dad isn’t as rich as you are! He would never buy us such expensive stuff!” Ashley chimed in, “Exactly! If it weren’t for you, Alex, we wouldn’t have tried all these nice things.” I never realized these two kids were so ungrateful before. Guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh? I used to feel sorry for them. Every time I passed by, they’d call out “Alex! Alex!” so sweetly. And whenever I bought something nice, I’d always share it with them without hesitation. Today, I wasn’t in the mood to give. 0
Seeing that I was slow to hand it over, Billy reached out and tugged at my shirt! “Hurry up and give it to me! I’m telling you!” I snapped, “Get lost! I’m not your dad, why should I give it to you?!” He glared, threatening me. “I know you love our food! Believe it or not, I’ll tell my dad not to sell you fried chicken!” Ashley also dropped her innocent act, planting her hands on her hips, her voice righteous. “You always used to give it to us! Why not today?!” ??? How could people be so shameless? Agnes saw what was happening and shamelessly waddled over, utterly devoid of shame, as if the person who caused a scene at my office wasn’t her. She put on a magnanimous air. “What you did, taking those bags, consider it forgotten! I won’t hold a grudge. Don’t want to ruin our harmony,” she continued, her tone bordering on a command. “It’s normal for kids to crave snacks! Just give him some, you’re not hurting for it.” “My grandson only asked because he likes you. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” The moment her words trailed off, I responded with a cold laugh, not an ounce of fear in my eyes. “What are you doing here? Looking for a fight? Then I’m happy to oblige.” My voice was icy, devoid of emotion. “If you’re uneducated, you can learn. If you’re ugly, you can get plastic surgery. But your rotten heart? There’s no cure for that. You extorted $50 from me for a plastic bag, and now you have the nerve to come here and order me around? You only have one face, why don’t you try to save some of it?”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “322491”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply