Jack didn’t budge. “She works harder in a day than you ever will in your entire life,” he said evenly. “Now, do you want that water, or are you done embarrassing yourself?”
The team rallied around me—Sarah, our bartender, and the rest of the staff quietly stepping up, their presence a silent yet powerful show of support. Sarah spoke up next, her voice unshaken. “We don’t need your attitude here. Either show some respect, or find the door.”
Heather’s bravado started to crack. “We’ll just speak to your manager,” she sneered, as if she held some trump card.
I smiled and stepped forward, finally ready to end it. “You already have,” I said, my voice steady.
Her smug expression faltered. “What?”
“I’m the manager here,” I continued, letting the weight of my words hang in the air. “Actually, I own this place.”
The color drained from her face as realization hit. The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment before my team erupted into cheers and applause. Jack clapped me on the back, Maria let out a triumphant whoop, and Sarah grinned like she’d won the lottery.
Heather, on the other hand, was utterly speechless. Her entourage, once so eager to join in her mockery, now avoided her gaze. She stammered something incoherent before Sarah, arms crossed, delivered the final blow. “I think it’s time you left. We don’t need your negativity here.”
Heather turned a deep shade of red, her confidence completely shattered. She and her friends gathered their things and hurried out the door without another word. The bell above the door jingled as they left, and the air instantly felt lighter.
As the room settled, Jack leaned in with a wink. “Now that was satisfying.”
“Karma,” I said with a laugh, “served with a side of justice.”
