When Abby loses her job, she seeks comfort in her husband, Gregor, to keep them afloat until she finds another. But while Abby assumes that Gregor will be supportive, she finds out how he really feels when they celebrate his birthday surrounded by their closest people…
I’m not usually one to share my life online, but after what happened recently, I figured my story should be shared. Let me tell you all about the time my husband tried to humiliate me in front of his friends and how I turned the tables on him in the most satisfying way.
A pensive woman in her forties | Source: Midjourney
I met Gregor when I was in my forties. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and the marriage dream had died a long time ago for me.
“Come on, Abby,” my mother said. “It’s never too late to find someone. Don’t you just want to be married and settle down?”
I shook my head.
In reality, I did want that, but after a toxic relationship in my thirties, I was done thinking about it all. I didn’t want that anymore.
A couple arguing | Source: Midjourney
But then, I met Gregor and we hit it off right away. He was charming, thoughtful, and genuinely seemed to care about me.
“I’ve waited my entire life for you, Abby,” Gregor said when he showed up at my house with a bouquet of roses and an engagement ring tucked away in his palm.
Our first year of marriage felt like one long honeymoon. We traveled together, laughed together non-stop, and truly enjoyed each other’s company.
A man holding a bouquet of roses | Source: Midjourney
It seemed that we just belonged together.
Gregor was successful in his career, working as an executive at a well-known firm, while I was also doing well in my own career. I worked for a marketing company and I really loved my job.
Life was good, and I felt like I had it all.
A smiling couple in their forties | Source: Midjourney
“I told you, Abby,” my mother said one day when I went to visit her with ingredients to make dumplings.
“I know,” I chuckled. “I should have listened. But I’m happy now, and I think I finally got it right.”
“It’s all going to be fine,” my mother said. “As long as you’re happy.”
A plate of dumplings | Source: Midjourney
But then life threw a curveball.
The company I worked for went bankrupt, and just like that, I was out of a job.
It was a blow, not just financially, but also to my confidence. I was good at my job, but there was just something about being unable to do it that made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.
A close up of an upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“It’s going to be okay,” I told myself as I sat at my desk for the last time. We had all been called in to pack up our belongings and just say goodbye.
But deep down, I knew that although I prided myself on my independence and hated the idea of being reliant on anyone, Gregor was still there.
When I broke the news to Gregor, he seemed supportive at first. But it didn’t take long for his true feelings to surface.
An upset woman sitting at a desk | Source: Midjourney
“What? Now, I’m going to be the breadwinner at home? The only breadwinner?” he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“It’s just for now,” I said. “I’m going to start the job hunt as soon as possible. But until I get back onto my feet, it’s going to be you running the home. Okay?”
“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, right?” he said, rolling his eyes.
A grumpy man | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not for long,” I promised. “Just give me a few weeks and I’ll have another job ready to go.”
I had to admit, I was taken aback by his reaction, but understood his concern. I quickly started job hunting, determined to find something else.
I sat down at my laptop and stared at the screen until the words blurred.
A woman using her laptop | Source: Midjourney
“Come on, Abby,” I told myself. “You need to find something. You just need the world to give you a break, that’s all.”
While I was searching, I took a temporary job as a cleaner in a nearby restaurant. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work, and it helped keep us afloat.
“At least your boss is happy to give us food,” Gregor said one evening as I unwrapped leftover steak and veggies from the restaurant.
A woman holding a mop | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, the manager would rather have food sent home for our families to enjoy rather than just throw it out,” I said, cutting my steak.
“It’s good food,” Gregor said. “But at the same time, it’s not a good job for you. Our family and friends are used to seeing you with your nails and hair done, wearing high heels and fancy outfits. Not black slacks and an apron, Abby.”
A plate of steak and veggies | Source: Midjourney
“I know that,” I said. “But it’s not like I’ve settled for the job. I’m still actively looking for another job. This is to keep us going until then.”
Gregor grunted and continued to eat.
For a moment, I had no idea who my husband was. But this man wasn’t the one that I had married.
A man eating | Source: Midjourney
Fast forward a few months to Gregor’s 45th birthday.
My husband decided to throw himself a big bash at an expensive restaurant and invited all his friends, family, and colleagues.
“So, he can complain about looking after his wife, but he’s fine with spoiling everyone else for his birthday?” my mother tutted on the phone.
An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Mom,” I said. “It’s just how he is. But I’m looking forward to this. It’s my first weekend off in a while and I just want to unwind and have fun.”
“I know, darling,” she said.
Admittedly, I was excited for the night, thinking it would be a chance for us to relax and just spend time together outside of our home.
A smiling woman on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Happy birthday, my love,” I said to Gregor when we got to the restaurant.
I had called ahead and asked for them to set up black and silver balloons around the table Gregor had reserved.
The night started off well, with good food, laughter, and drinks flowing freely. As the evening went on, tipsy people began to make toasts.
A table with food and drinks at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
First, was Gregor’s sister, Natalia.
“You’re lucky to have Abby in your life, brother,” she said, holding two glasses of champagne. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
I felt touched by her words and smiled, feeling appreciated.
Gregor’s friend, Tim, went next, talking about the joys of having Gregor in the office next door.
A woman holding two glasses of champagne | Source: Midjourney
Finally, it was Gregor’s turn to speak.
He stood up, his glass of champagne in hand, and began laughing before he even said a word.
“Oh, I know I’m lucky, Nat,” he said. “But let’s be real, Abby is lucky too! She’s basically my dependent now. I’d have kicked her out a long time ago if she wasn’t so obedient. It’s just a pity I invested all that money in her over the years.”
A man standing and giving a speech | Source: Midjourney
Gregor hiccupped and reached for a piece of shrimp from his plate.
The table fell silent, and my insides twisted more than they ever had. Embarrassed wasn’t enough to describe how I felt.
He was laughing, expecting everyone else to join in. Some people chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to do, but most people looked around uncomfortably.
A plate of fried shrimp | Source: Midjourney
Gregor took another piece of shrimp before he dissolved into laughter for a while.
“Come on guys, that was a killer joke!” he bellowed in between laughing.
But then, as I sat there, something clicked inside me.
I decided I wasn’t going to let him get away with this behavior. This was toxic behavior.
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t going to allow that back into my life.
Calmly, I stood up and took a deep breath.
“Well, Gregor,” I said. “It seems like you’re forgetting a few things. But let me remind you and everyone else about some investments I’ve made.”
All eyes were on me as I spoke, and Gregor’s smug smile slowly faded away.
An expressionless woman | Source: Midjourney
“You see,” I started. “While you’ve been investing in me, you’ve also been busy investing. The money you used to fund this luxurious celebration didn’t come from your account.”
Gasps erupted around the room.
“I saw the notification,” I said. “You took it from my savings fund. You don’t believe me? I can pull up the statement on my phone right now…”
A woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
“No…” Gregor said.
“I was willing to overlook this because we were a team, but it seems that we’re not. I know that you only took out the money to reserve this place, and that the rest of the bill needs to be paid when we leave here. Correct?”
Gregor nodded slowly.
“Correct,” he muttered.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“And I have the money with me, right in my purse,” I said. “I wanted you to have a good birthday, and I didn’t want you to pay for your own birthday dinner.”
I looked around the table, seeing the realization dawn on everyone’s faces.
“But do you know what? I think I’ll just keep it, along with my dignity.”
With that, I calmly walked off the stage and out of the restaurant.
A woman walking away on the pavement | Source: Midjourney
I don’t know how Gregor paid for the dinner, but I didn’t care. Instead, I went home and packed as much of my clothes as my car would allow, and I drove to my mother’s place.
I wasn’t going to stay in a toxic relationship again.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
My Downstairs Neighbor Asked Me to Be Quieter at Night, but I Have Not Been Home for the past Week
When Piper returns from a trip with her friends, she cannot wait to get home to her husband. But as she unpacks her car, a neighbor approaches her, complaining about the noise from her apartment. If Piper wasn’t home, who was Matthew entertaining in her absence?
I had just returned from a blissful week-long camping trip with my friends. It was all about us taking time away from our lives and enjoying being away from the city.
My husband, Matthew, had stayed behind, claiming that he needed to stay at home.
A woman sitting outside and looking at the view | Source: Midjourney
“I have to be home, Piper,” he said when I was packing my bags. “It’s just work responsibilities. There are meetings and presentations coming up.”
“Are you sure?” I asked him. “Why don’t you come along, and then we can find you a place to work in between it all?”
Matthew smiled at me and sat down on the bed.
A woman sitting on a suitcase | Source: Midjourney
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “You go and join the others and have fun. You need some time away from this place.”
He continued to persuade me to go on the trip, and eventually, I gave in.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
When a devoted hotel maid is tormented by a wealthy and arrogant guest, she devises a plan that turns the tables in the most unexpected way. Instead of seeking revenge with anger, she orchestrates a quiet but powerful act of defiance that forces the cruel woman to face the bitter consequences of her actions.
Woman cleaning a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother has always been a source of inspiration for me. As a maid at a fancy local hotel, she takes immense pride in her work. She treats every room as if it were her own, ensuring everything is spotless and welcoming for the guests.
Recently, however, she had an encounter that tested her patience like never before. It all started on a seemingly ordinary day. My mother was assigned to clean room 256, which was occupied by a young woman named Ms. Johnson.
Woman in uniform beside hotel room bed | Source: Pexels
From the moment she stepped into the room, my mother could sense the woman’s dislike for her. Ms. Johnson lounged on the bed, scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging my mother’s presence.
As my mother meticulously cleaned the room, making sure every surface was spotless, Ms. Johnson suddenly knocked her coffee cup off the table, sending dark liquid spilling onto the freshly mopped floor. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she looked my mother straight in the eye and sneered, “Clean that up!”
Coffee mug falling | Source: Pexels
My mother’s heart sank. She had worked so hard to make the room perfect, only to see her efforts so carelessly undone. But she knew she couldn’t afford to lose her job. It provided her with a sense of independence and stability for our family.
A person vacuuming a rug | Source: Pexels
Swallowing her pride, she silently cleaned the floor again, all while feeling Ms. Johnson’s piercing gaze on her. As she worked, the woman laughed. The mocking giggle echoed through the room. “Well done for a maid. You didn’t even talk back to me,” she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tomorrow, I’ll come up with something more interesting for you.”
Woman standing near table with pastries | Source: Pexels
My mother finished her task, holding back tears. She knew showing any sign of distress would only give the woman more satisfaction. That night, as she recounted the story to me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. But there was also a spark of determination. She wasn’t going to let this entitled guest break her spirit.
Mother and daughter sitting at the table holding hands | Source: Pexels
The next day, my mother went to work with a plan. She knew Ms. Johnson would try to humiliate her again, but this time, she was ready. She was determined to show this woman that kindness and respect were not weaknesses and that underestimating the resolve of someone who works with dignity and pride was a grave mistake.
Woman holding a plastic basin with cleaning materials | Source: Pexels
Around mid-morning, my mother walked into room 256 with a steely determination. She had a plan. Sure enough, there she was, Ms. Johnson, reclining on the bed, her smirk already in place.
“Oh, look who’s back,” Ms. Johnson said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s see what mess I can make for you today.” She reached for her coffee cup, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Woman leaning on handrail in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother kept her composure. She knew what to expect. Without a word, she began her cleaning routine, methodically and efficiently, refusing to rise to the bait. As she moved around the room, she noticed something important: Ms. Johnson’s laptop was left open on the table, the screen glowing with unattended work.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” my mother said in her most polite tone. “I need to dust the table. Would you mind closing your laptop?”
Person using phone with laptop on desk | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered, snapping the laptop shut and placing it to the side with an exaggerated sigh. “But hurry up. I have important work to do.”
“Of course, ma’am,” my mother replied, her voice steady.
Woman relaxing in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“You’re slower than yesterday,” Ms. Johnson remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do they not teach speed in maid school?” My mother ignored the jab, focusing on her task.
Ms. Johnson’s impatience was palpable, and she drummed her fingers on the bedside table. “Done yet?” Ms. Johnson snapped.
Woman tiding up a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“Almost, ma’am,” my mother replied calmly.
Just then, the door opened, and Mr. Ramirez, the hotel manager, appeared. He glanced around the room, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Good morning, Ms. Johnson,” he greeted her warmly.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”
Hotel manager entering a room | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson scoffed. “It’s fine. Your maid here is just clumsy and slow.”
Mr. Ramirez frowned slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Our staff is trained to provide excellent service.”
“Well, maybe she needs more training,” Ms. Johnson said, casting a disdainful look at my mother.
Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, concern evident in his eyes. “Mrs. Adams, is there a problem?”
My mother met his gaze with her calm and professional demeanor. “No, Mr. Ramirez. Everything is under control.”
A chambermaid holding a stack of towels | Source: Pexels
Mr. Ramirez nodded, though his concern lingered. “Ms. Johnson, I assure you, we will make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible.”
Ms. Johnson waved dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t break anything.”
Mr. Ramirez gave my mother an encouraging smile before leaving. As the door closed behind him, my mother felt a surge of quiet confidence. She was ready for whatever Ms. Johnson had in store next.
Woman fixing pillows on the bed | Source: Pexels
My mother continued her work, but she had one more trick up her sleeve. She knew Ms. Johnson would never learn unless she experienced a bit of discomfort herself.
As she finished cleaning, my mother subtly dropped a small, harmless but unpleasant-smelling packet under the bed. It was a trick she had learned from an old colleague, a mixture that would release a gradually intensifying odor over time. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, but within a few hours, it would become quite bothersome.
A tidy hotel room | Source: Pexels
“All done, ma’am,” my mother said standing up and gathering her cleaning supplies. “Have a pleasant day.”
The next morning, my mother arrived at work and was immediately greeted by the sight of Ms. Johnson in the lobby, furiously arguing with Mr. Ramirez. Her face was flushed with anger, and her voice carried through the lobby.
Man and woman standing in a hotel lobby | Source: Pexels’
“I can’t stay in that room! It smells awful! How can you expect guests to stay in such conditions?” Ms. Johnson was practically shouting, drawing the attention of other guests and staff members.
Mr. Ramirez, ever the professional, maintained his calm demeanor. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Johnson. We take such matters very seriously. We’ll investigate the cause of the smell immediately and move you to another room in the meantime.”
Two people standing at a hotel entrance | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson, still fuming, stormed off, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, who had been quietly watching the scene unfold.
“Mrs. Adams, could you please check Ms. Johnson’s room and see if you can find the source of the smell?” he asked, his voice calm but concerned. “Of course,” my mother replied, hiding a smile. She headed to room 256, her heart pounding with satisfaction.
A clean hotel room | Source: Unsplash
Inside the room, my mother quickly found the packet she had placed under the bed and discreetly removed it. She then opened the windows and turned on the fan, allowing fresh air to circulate and clear the odor. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a small surge of triumph. Ms. Johnson had finally tasted a bit of her own medicine.
Woman carrying a stack of towers | Source: Pexels’
As she left the room, she ran into Mr. Ramirez in the hallway. “Did you find the source of the smell?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Ramirez,” my mother replied. “It seems something had been left under the bed. I’ve removed it and aired out the room. It should be fine now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Adams,” Mr. Ramirez said, a hint of relief in his voice. “You’ve done an excellent job, as always.”
Hotel worker doing room service | Source: Pexels
My mother nodded and continued with her day, knowing that sometimes, justice is served in the smallest of actions. But that wasn’t enough. My mom had one more lesson to teach Ms. Johnson.
The next day, she was assigned to help move Ms. Johnson’s belongings to another room. As usual, Mom did her job efficiently, ensuring every item was carefully placed in the new room.
Delivery man holding a cardboard box | Source: Pexels
Later that afternoon, a courier arrived with a package for room 256; Ms. Johnson’s previous room. Aware that Ms. Johnson had moved to room 312, Mom saw this as her chance to deliver a delayed but impactful lesson.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the courier, stepping forward with a polite smile. “The guest in room 256 has been moved to room 312. You can leave the package at the front desk, and I will ensure it gets to her.” The courier nodded, handing over the package. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” he said, already turning to leave.
A person holding a package | Source: Pexels
My mother took the package to the front desk and, with a smile, placed it in the corner behind some other deliveries, making sure it would not be found immediately.
The next day, Ms. Johnson was in a frenzy. She was preparing for her flight and an important event later that evening. Suddenly, she realized something crucial was missing. She frantically called the front desk, her voice shaking with panic.
An angry woman in aa grey tank top | Source: Pexels
“I had a package delivered to room 256. Where is it? It has my plane tickets and my dress for tonight’s event!” Ms. Johnson’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation.
The front desk clerk, taken aback by her intensity, quickly checked the records. After some confusion and a hurried search, they found the package tucked away in the corner. The clerk immediately called my mother to deliver it to Ms. Johnson’s new room, 312.
Receptionist making a phone call | Source: Pexels
My mother, with a calm and measured pace, made her way to the room. She knocked on Ms. Johnson’s door, her expression serene. The woman yanked the door open, her eyes wide with anxiety. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for that package!” she snapped.
“Here is your package, ma’am. It was delivered to the wrong room,” my mother said sweetly, holding out the package.
A person holding a brown box | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson snatched the package from her hands and ripped it open. Her face fell as she realized the delay had cost her dearly. The tickets were now useless, and she had no time to prepare for her event. Frustration and defeat were etched into her features. She could only muster a weak, “Thanks,” before slamming the door in my mother’s face.
Mom walked away, a slight smile playing on her lips. She knew she had given Ms. Johnson a taste of her own medicine, all without stepping outside the bounds of her duties. It was a quiet victory, but a deeply satisfying one.
Woman standing under a chandelier of a hotel room | Source: Pexels
When my mother told me about the incident later, I could see the relief in her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “the best revenge is simply letting people experience the consequences of their own actions.”
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