Arrogant Man Ridiculed an Older Janitor – I Was Ready to Defend Him, but Karma Intervened First

I expected nothing but the usual peace when I went to my favorite cafe, but on this fateful day, a rude stranger got my blood boiling! The impolite gentleman chose the wrong person to target, the cafe’s longtime janitor, but karma served him well and quickly!

Lunchtime was usually a brief escape from the bustling chaos of work. I frequented this small café, a cozy spot with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The staff knew me by name, and the regulars had become familiar faces. It was my peaceful midday retreat, but on this particular day, the tranquility was shattered by an unexpected encounter.

On this particular day, my usually chill spot turned crazy not long after I arrived. I had just settled into my usual corner table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, when the door swung open. In strolled a man whose arrogance seemed to precede him.

He was well-dressed, his tailored suit fitting him perfectly, and a watch on his wrist that probably cost more than my monthly rent. The man’s presence commanded attention, but not in a good way.

Mike, the elderly janitor, was quietly sweeping near the entrance. He’s a gentle 65-year-old man, is soft-spoken, and has worked at the café for as long as I can remember. Mike always wore a kind smile, despite the weariness in his eyes.

His lovely personality made it easy to overlook his worn-out shoes and the frayed edges of his uniform. Today, however, his routine was about to be disrupted most unexpectedly!

As the arrogant-looking man strutted past, Mike accidentally brushed against him with his broom. It was a simple, harmless mistake, but the reaction it provoked was anything but!

“WHAT THE? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS JACKET COSTS?” the man bellowed, his voice cutting through the café like a sharp knife! His face contorted with anger as he glared at the janitor, who immediately stepped back, his eyes wide with shock.

Not one for confrontation or drama, Mike humbly bowed his head in apology, stammering, “I’m really sorry, sir.” But the man wasn’t interested in apologies!

“Sorry? I don’t need your ‘sorry!’ People like YOU shouldn’t even go out and breathe close to normal people like me,” he sneered, his words dripping with disdain.

“What is your name? I plan on sharing this incident with your boss!”

“It’s Mike, sir,” the poor janitor responded still looking at the floor.

The entire café fell silent, all eyes on the unfolding scene. I could feel the tension rising, my hands balling into fists under the table. I couldn’t just sit there and let this man berate Mike.

My heart pounded in my chest as I prepared to get up and intervene. But before I could even push my chair all the way out so I could stand, and before I had a chance to give my objections, something incredibly wild happened!

From the back of the café, a voice boomed, commanding and full of surprise. “MIKE, IS THAT YOU? I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! WE’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU!” called out some guy who was out of view.

Everyone turned to see him standing up from the special guest or VIP table near the back window. He was middle-aged, dressed in an impeccable suit, and carried an air of authority that immediately drew attention.

He walked over to where Mike and the arrogant man were standing, his eyes fixed on the elderly janitor with a mix of disbelief and joy. “Mike,” the man repeated, his voice softening as he approached. “My God, Mike, we’ve been looking for you for twenty-three years after that accident! Do you remember me?”

The janitor blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t remember you. I’ve been here, working as a janitor. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

The man’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. “It looks like you have amnesia, buddy!” he declared, turning to the arrogant man who had just been berating the janitor. “This man,” he said, gesturing towards Mike, “is not just a janitor…”

“He’s my business partner who disappeared twenty-three years ago after a yacht accident at sea.”

A hush fell over the café as everyone processed the man’s words. The arrogant man’s face paled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of the revelation.

He stammered, trying to find words, but the man cut him off. “You owe this good man an apology, and not just that,” the man said, his tone turning icy. “You’re going to make this right. Take him to your car and drive him to the best clothing store in town. Buy him whatever he wants.”

“When you’re done getting him dressed up, take him to the finest restaurant and let him order ANYTHING he desires. After that, drop him off at his house and give him a thousand dollars by tomorrow. Got it?”

The arrogant man nodded, his face ashen. “Yes, Mr. Peter. I’m so sorry, Mr. Mike. I didn’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. But Peter, as the man was now known, wasn’t finished.

“And if you don’t do exactly as I’ve said, consider yourself fired,” he added, his voice cold and unyielding. The arrogant man flinched as if he’d been struck, then quickly moved to follow Peter’s orders.

Mike stood there, bewildered by the turn of events. “But, sir, I’m just a janitor,” he murmured, looking down at his broom as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Peter placed a reassuring hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You might be a janitor but you still deserve better. Don’t worry about a thing. Everything’s going to be taken care of.”

And just like that, the arrogant man, now thoroughly humbled, escorted the café’s janitor out. His earlier swagger was now replaced by a nervous energy as he tried to redeem himself. As the door closed behind them, the café buzzed with murmurs.

The staff exchanged glances, some whispering to each other about what had just transpired. I remained in my seat, still processing the surreal scene that had just unfolded. The two people next to my table were talking about Peter.

One said to the other, “That’s Peter Standford, he’s the rich guy who is the sole owner of a large companies that line this street.”

“Really?” the woman’s friend questioned, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Yes! I recognize the rude guy too, he’s Peter’s employee from one of his companies in town.”

“Oh, wow! He seems like a decent man for someone wealthy,” the pal responded.

“He is! Peter’s always going around helping the homeless and giving out cash to those in need. What he did for old man Mike was incredible. I wonder how they met. They seem so different. But then again, Amnesia is a cruel disease…”

I zoned out of their conversation as I was still looking at Peter, who was walking past my table on his way out. At that moment, he turned around and our eyes met for the first time. I hadn’t seen the rich man in the cafe before today.

He smiled at me, and I felt emboldened to ask an important question, despite knowing it might shatter the mystery. “Excuse me, do you really know Mike?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Peter smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Yes, I know him. He’s a cleaner who I met a few weeks ago, and he’s generally a very good person.”

“Please forgive my curiosity, but I’ve known him for quite a while and never heard him mention being a businessman before.”

“I am not surprised that he never spoke about that life because it doesn’t exist,” Peter replied, smiling at what sounded like an inside joke.

“Sooo… he’s not your business partner?” I pressed, wanting to be sure.

“Well, of course not,” Peter replied, his voice laced with amusement. “It was necessary to teach that bully a lesson for his behavior. And Mike deserved to get moral compensation at Donald’s cost,” he added with a laugh.

His laughter was infectious, and soon, I found myself chuckling along with him. The tension that had gripped the café moments ago dissipated, replaced by a sense of relief and justice well-served.

Peter had turned the tables so effortlessly! He showed us that even in the face of arrogance, there was still room for kindness and cunning. As the businessman turned to leave, I found myself reflecting on the power of a simple act of standing up for what’s right.

In the end, it wasn’t just about defending Mike; it was about reminding everyone present that no matter who you are, respect and dignity are not privileges… they are rights. I watched Peter exit the café, his figure blending into the busy street outside.

The door swung shut behind him, leaving me with a story I knew I’d be sharing for years to come! A story about karma, justice, and the unexpected heroism of one wealthy man named Peter!

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