The next time Miss Pompous returned, demanding to see the owner and calling for my head over her ruined designer bag — which just so happened to get splashed by a rogue carrot juice “accident” — she expected instant revenge. But instead, our kind, no-nonsense owner reviewed the security footage.
There it was: clear evidence of her throwing the drink in my face, and my so-called “revenge” looking more like a happy accident. Mr. Larson looked her dead in the eye and said calmly, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation.” Watching her storm out in defeat was the sweet closure I never knew I needed — proof that sometimes, justice does come in a juice cup.