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
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
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
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
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
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
“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
“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
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
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
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
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.
I Came Home to My Husband and His Ex Digging My Garden, What They Hid Years Ago Made Me Pale
From the start, he was kind and attentive, always willing to listen to me vent about my day, never once distracted by his phone or looking bored. He was everything I thought I needed.
What sealed my affection for him was when he showed up on my doorstep with homemade chicken soup and a collection of my favorite rom-coms. “Everyone needs a little TLC when they’re feeling down,” he said with that charming smile of his.
This is it, I thought. This is the man I’ve been waiting for.
One of the things that endeared Martin to me was his nervous stammer. When he was anxious or stressed, his words would stumble over each other, and I found it adorable. It made him feel more real, more human.
Like the time, a month into our relationship, when he took me to a fancy Italian restaurant for our “monthiversary.” He was passionately explaining the new accounting software at his firm, waving his fork around, when it slipped from his hand, sending tomato sauce all over his shirt. His face turned beet red.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he stammered, looking mortified. “I d-didn’t m-mean to m-mess up.”
I reached across the table, took his hand, and smiled. “It’s okay. Red suits you.”
He laughed, and the tension melted away. That moment solidified my belief that he was someone I could truly be with.
As our relationship grew, Martin opened up about his past, especially about his ex-wife, Janet. He painted a picture of her as someone constantly chasing more—more money, more status, more things. “Nothing was ever enough for her,” he’d say, shaking his head. Their marriage crumbled under the weight of her demands, according to him.
“I couldn’t keep up with her. It felt like I was drowning, and she just kept pushing me under,” he confessed one night. I vowed I’d never be that way—I would love him for who he was, not for what he could provide.
So, when he proposed a year into our relationship, I didn’t hesitate. Our wedding was intimate and beautiful, and it was the happiest day of my life.
But last Tuesday, everything changed.
I had just returned from visiting my mother and decided to surprise Martin with his favorite lasagna. As I pulled into our driveway, I slammed on the brakes when I saw two figures digging in our garden—Martin and Janet.
For a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. What were they doing together? And why were they destroying my garden?
I stormed out of the car and marched over to them. “What’s going on?” I demanded, anger rising in my voice.
Martin froze, dropping the shovel. “M-M-Margaret! Y-you’re h-home early!” His familiar stammer only confirmed my suspicions—he was hiding something.
All the worst thoughts flooded my mind. Was he cheating? Why was Janet here? Why were they digging up our yard?
“We were just…” Martin began, but Janet interrupted.
“She deserves to know, Martin,” she said, wiping her hands. “We buried a time capsule here, ten years ago.”
“A time capsule?” I echoed in disbelief.
“Yes, from when we lived here together,” Janet explained, gesturing to the metal box at their feet. “We always planned to dig it up someday.”
Martin looked sheepish. “Y-yeah, we thought it’d be fun to reminisce.”
I stood there, stunned. “So, you decided to destroy my garden for your little trip down memory lane?”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t,” I snapped before walking into the house, slamming the door behind me. Inside, I paced back and forth, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. How could Martin keep this from me? And why on earth would he prioritize his past with Janet over our life together?
I heard the front door open and the sound of hushed voices. Then Martin called out, “Margaret? Can we talk?”
I stepped into the hallway, where they stood with the muddy time capsule between them.
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked coldly.
“Please, let us explain,” Martin pleaded. “It’s not what you think.”
Janet chimed in. “We just wanted to look back. There’s nothing more to it—”
“Fine,” I interrupted. “Go ahead and dig up the past. I’ll be outside.”
I stormed out of the house, feeling a mixture of anger and betrayal. As I looked at the mess they’d made of my garden, an idea formed in my mind.
I gathered wood for a bonfire. By the time the fire was roaring, the sun had set. I could hear Martin and Janet laughing inside, likely over something from the time capsule. I called out, “Why don’t you bring that stuff out here? We could have a bonfire.”
They joined me, bringing the capsule with them. I picked up a handful of its contents—old photos, letters, trinkets. Without hesitation, I tossed them into the flames.
“What are you doing?” Janet gasped.
“Burnt bridges should stay burnt,” I said firmly. “It’s time to focus on the future, not the past.”
As I watched the fire consume their memories, I realized something—Martin wasn’t the perfect man I thought I’d married. He was flawed, just like anyone else.
Janet backed away, her face pale. “I think I should go.”
Neither Martin nor I stopped her as she left. Once we were alone, Martin turned to me with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Margaret,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know how to tell you about the capsule. I was afraid you’d think I still had feelings for Janet. I just wanted to get it done before you came back. I messed up. Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, staring at the fire. “You’ve broken my trust, Martin. That’s not something you fix overnight.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” I continued. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need some space.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Martin said, defeated, before retreating into the house.
I stayed by the fire as it slowly died down. The garden would need to be replanted. New seeds, new life. Maybe our relationship could be the same.
Only time would tell which path we’d choose. But one thing was certain: Martin would never be the same in my eyes.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
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