After a job interview, Catherine’s day took a sharp turn when a haughty man spilled hot coffee on her at a café, then BLAMED HER for the mess. Little did he know, the tables would turn spectacularly the very next day, serving him a perfect dose of karma.
Hey everyone, it’s Catherine here! Ever had one of those days where everything just seems to go wrong? Like, the universe itself is conspiring against you? Yeah, that’s pretty much how my Tuesday started last week. And on top of that, I had to deal with a situation that made me wonder… how much more are we, as women, expected to tolerate injustice?
Catherine shares her story | Source: Midjourney
So, picture this: butterflies fluttering in my stomach like a hummingbird convention. I just walked out of the second round of a job interview for this amazing marketing position.
I nailed it, you guys! Answered all their questions with confidence, even the tricky ones. But you know how interviews are — you can never be too sure, right?
So, to calm my nerves, I decided to grab some lunch at this cute little café near the office. It was this adorable place with mismatched chairs and fairy lights strung across the ceiling.
A woman speaking on the phone | Source: Freepik
I settled myself at the counter, feeling pretty darn good about myself.
Just as I was waiting for my salad, my phone buzzed. It was Josh, my amazing husband. We always do a quick chat after my interviews, you know, to dissect everything.
I picked up, and filled him in on all the details — how the interview went, how nice the team seemed — and boom! Just as I was telling him they were scheduling the final round for tomorrow, DISASTER struck.
A woman on the phone | Source: Freepik
A guy, walking way too fast with a folder clutched to his chest, slammed right into the counter next to me. My coffee, which was still piping hot, went flying. And by flying, I mean it did a full-on projectile launch, landing right in my lap.
“Aghhh!” I shrieked, the hot liquid scalding my skin.
The café went silent. All eyes turned towards me, probably because my shriek could have woken the dead.
Coffee spilling | Source: Pexels
My first instinct was to check the damage. My formal dress, the one I specifically picked out for the interview good vibes, was now adorned with a giant brown coffee stain. Fantastic.
The guy who caused the whole mess — let’s call him Mr. Clumsy McSpillface — finally noticed the destruction. He glanced down at my ruined dress, then back up at me with this look of utter disdain on his face.
“Seriously?!” he barked, like it was MY fault he SPILLED COFFEE ON ME. “Watch where you’re putting your stuff!”
A man screaming | Source: Pexels
Okay, first of all, I wasn’t “putting my stuff” anywhere near him. I was peacefully waiting for my lunch, minding my own business. Second, the audacity of this guy to blame me for his own clumsiness?
My jaw clenched so hard I could have sworn I heard a tooth crack.
“Excuse me?” I managed to say, my voice surprisingly calm considering the situation. “You bumped into me and spilled the coffee on ME!”
A stunned woman | Source: Pexels
Mr. McSpillface scoffed. “Yeah, well, maybe if you weren’t glued to your phone, you would have seen me coming!”
Seriously? This guy was unbelievable. Not only did he not apologize, but he was now implying it was my fault for being on MY phone?
I opened my mouth to retort, ready to unleash a verbal smackdown of epic proportions, but he cut me off.
“Honestly,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “When was the last time you stopped being Miss Clumsy?! Some people just have zero situational awareness.”
He gestured vaguely at the coffee-stained mess on my lap, then turned and marched to a table nearby like he owned the place.
My cheeks burned with anger and humiliation.
Everyone in the café was staring at me, some with pity, some with a hint of amusement. I felt tears prickling my eyes. This wasn’t how my post-interview celebration was supposed to go.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to salvage the situation. I mumbled a quick “Sorry” to the barista and grabbed my purse.
There was no point in staying any longer. I just wanted to get out of there, crawl under a rock, and never come out.
“Ugh, this is the worst day ever,” I muttered to myself as I stormed out of the café.
Little did I know, the universe had a surprise waiting for me just around the corner, and it involved Mr. McSpillface and a whole lot of karma.
The bus ride home was a blur. Tears welled up in my eyes every time I glanced at the giant coffee stain mocking me from my dress.
By the time I reached my apartment building, I looked like a soggy mess, both physically and emotionally.
As I slammed the door shut behind me, Josh rushed out from the living room, concern etched on his face.
“Hey, what happened?” he asked, taking one look at me and my ruined dress.
“Ugh, don’t even ask,” I mumbled, throwing my bag and interview folder onto the couch. I sank down beside them, burying my head in my hands.
The story tumbled out in a torrent of words and tears.
I recounted the interview, the spilled coffee, Mr. McSpillface’s rudeness, and the whole humiliating ordeal. By the end of it, I was a blubbering mess.
Josh pulled me into a comforting hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, stroking my hair gently. “You did the right thing by not arguing with that jerk. Escalating things wouldn’t have helped.”
He was right, of course. But that didn’t make me feel any better.
“I just feel so… violated,” I sniffled. “And to ruin my dress on top of it? Then call me names? How dare he?”
“I know, honey,” he said, wiping away a stray tear from my cheek. “But listen, karma is a thing. That guy will definitely get what’s coming to him!” he winked, trying to lighten the mood.
And wouldn’t you know it, karma did have a way of working things out.
The next day, dressed to the nines in my interview outfit, I felt a surge of determination. This job was mine, coffee stain or not.
I arrived at the company’s office early, a nervous knot churning in my stomach. To my surprise, the waiting area was deserted. Just as I started fiddling with my resume, the receptionist called me in for the interview.
The interviewers were a friendly bunch, putting me at ease right away. They seemed impressed with my qualifications and experience, and the conversation flowed smoothly.
However, a small detail dampened my spirits.
They informed me that there was another candidate shortlisted for the position and that I would be meeting the boss along with them.
Leaving the conference room, I caught a glimpse of someone familiar sitting in the corridor. My heart lurched — it was Mr. McSpillface, looking as polished and put-together as ever.
A wave of anger washed over me, replaying his insults from the café in my head.
He was engrossed in his file and didn’t notice me at first.
Just as I found a chair to sit in, the receptionist announced the boss’s arrival and ushered us into his office. That’s when Mr. McSpillface, whose actual name was Sam, saw me.
The look on his face was priceless.
His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in complete and utter shock. He looked like he’d swallowed a live frog. Thankfully, he didn’t dare utter a word.
Of course, I was still nervous about the competition. There was no way I wanted to lose this job to HIM. We both sat side-by-side in the conference room, a tense silence hanging in the air.
Then, the door swung open, and a well-dressed man entered. He introduced himself as Mr. Felix, the company’s CEO.
Instead of launching into a barrage of questions, he did something completely unexpected.
“Mrs. Parker,” he began, his gaze fixed on me, “congratulations! You’re hired!”
My jaw dropped faster than a clown at a mime convention. “Wh-what? Hired? Just like that?” I stammered, “But… the interview…”
Mr. Felix chuckled. “Let me explain,” he said, gesturing for us to sit.
He explained that he, by pure coincidence, had been at the café the day before. He’d witnessed the entire scene with Mr. McSpillface — the spilled coffee, the accusations, the way I handled the situation with grace under pressure.
“I was very impressed,” he continued. “You remained calm and professional even when faced with such rudeness. That’s precisely the kind of employee I value. Someone who can handle a difficult situation cleverly instead of escalating it.”
He turned his gaze towards Sam, who was now a pale shade of green, sweating profusely. “As for you, Mr.…”
“Wesley,” Sam croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Mr. Wesley,” Mr. Felix continued, his voice laced with ice, “you can consider yourself persona non grata. The interview is over for you. In fact,” he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low growl, “I will ensure that your lack of respect and professionalism is known to all relevant companies in this industry.”
Sam’s face contorted in fear and shame. He mumbled something about apologies and second chances, but Mr. Felix wouldn’t have it.
“OUT!” he commanded, gesturing towards the door.
Sam scrambled to his feet, practically tripping over himself in his haste to leave. As the door slammed shut behind him, a wave of relief washed over me. I couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh.
Mr. Felix smiled kindly. “So, Mrs. Parker,” he began, “are you ready to join our team?”
The rest, as they say, is history. I shook Mr. Felix’s hand, excitement bubbling in my chest.
I couldn’t believe the turn of events. Not only did I get the job, but I also got the ultimate satisfaction of seeing Sam get served a heaping plate of karma.
Later that day, I walked into my apartment, a spring in my step and the official appointment letter clutched in my hand. Josh, who had been anxiously awaiting my return, rushed over and engulfed me in a hug.
“So?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Did you get it?”
“Did I get it?!” I exclaimed, holding up the letter. “I got it, and guess who I saw at the interview?”
Josh’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me…”
I launched into a dramatic retelling of the events, complete with impersonations (a terrible Mr. McSpillface and a surprisingly good Mr. Felix).
We laughed until our sides ached, the memory of the café incident now a hilarious footnote rather than a source of anger.
“Karma’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” Josh said finally, wiping a tear from his eye.
“The most beautiful,” I agreed, raising a glass of celebratory champagne. “To new beginnings, and to never spilling coffee on jerks ever again!”
We clinked glasses, the sound echoing through the apartment. The future looked bright, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy. The universe, it seemed, had a way of balancing things out, even if it involved a little spilled coffee and a whole lot of karma.