A Rich Customer Mocked Me, Calling Me a ‘Poor Cashier’ – But Karma Came for Her Moments Later
At 68, Margie’s days began before sunrise and ended long after the last grocery cart was rolled back inside. She worked the cash register with quiet strength and tired hands — hands that had held storybooks, comforted grandchildren, and now scanned barcodes under buzzing lights. She was used to the rhythm of it all — the steady beep of the register, the shuffle of customers, the faint smell of soap and bananas. Life wasn’t easy, but it was steady. Until one evening, a woman in a red coat decided to