Following a job interview, Catherine’s day veered sharply when an arrogant man spilled hot coffee on her at a café, then BLAMED HER for the disaster. He had no idea, though, that the tables would turn absolutely amazing the very next day, providing the ideal karma dose.
Hi everyone, Catherine here is it. Had one of those days when everything seems to be going wrong? Like the cosmos itself, is working against you? Indeed, my Tuesday began last week in rather that manner. And on top of that, I had to cope with a circumstance that made me question: how much more, as women, are we supposed to put up with?
Imagine then butterflies flitting in my guts like a hummingbird conference. I left the second job interview for this fantastic marketing post by walking out.
You people really nailed it! confidently answered all of their questions—including the challenging ones. But you understand how interviews are; you cannot be quite certain, though.
So I choose to go some lunch at this lovely tiny café close to the office to help me relax. This was this lovely spot with mismatched seats and fairy lights hung over the ceiling.
Feeling really good about myself, I relaxed at the counter.
My phone buzzed while I waited for my salad. Josh, my wonderful spouse, was it? We always quickly chat following my interviews to break everything down.
I picked up, filled him in on all the specifics—how the interview went, how friendly the staff seemed—and bang! DISASTER hit just as I was explaining to him tomorrow was the final round scheduled.
Walking far too quickly with a folder tightly held to his chest, a man slammed straight into the counter next to me. Still hot, my coffee shot like a jet. And by flying, I mean a full-powered projectile launch that landed squarely in my lap.
Aghhh! I cried, the hot liquid burning my skin.
The café silent. Everybody turned to look at me, most likely since my scream could have roused the dead.
Checking the damage first came naturally. Originally chosen for the interview for positive vibes, my formal dress was now covered in a large brown coffee stain. great.
Eventually, the man who started the entire mess—let’s call him Mr. Clumsy McSpillface—saw the damage. He looked down at my damaged clothing and then back up at me, clearly contemptuous.
Like it was MY fault he spilled coffee on ME, “Seriously?!” he yelled. ” Watch where you’re putting your stuff!”
Alright first of all, I wasn’t “putting my stuff” anywhere close to him. Minding my own business, I was leisurely waiting for lunch. Second, the arrogance of this man to attribute his own awkwardness to me?
My jaw tightened so forcefully I could have said I heard a tooth break.
“Exchange me?” Considering the circumstances, my voice surprisingly calm. I managed to say “You knocked into me and poured coffee on ME!”
Mr. McSpillface laughed dismissingly. “Yeah, well, maybe you would have seen me coming if you weren’t hooked to your phone.”
Particularly? This man was unbelievable. Not only did he not apologies, but he was also suggesting it was my responsibility for using MY phone?
He cut me off when I opened my mouth to react, poised to deliver an epic-scale verbal blow-down.
” Honestly,” he said, his voice rife with sarcasm, “When was the last time you stopped being Miss Clumsy?! Some folks simply have zero situational awareness.”
He pointed blankly at the tangle of coffee-stained papers on my lap, then turned and marched toward a table close by like he owned the place.
Anger and shame burned on my cheeks.
Everybody in the café was staring at me, some with sympathy, some with a trace of laughter. Tears were stinging my eyes. This was not the intended celebration following an interview.
Breathing deeply, I sought to save the day. Mumbled a brief “sorry” to the barista, then reached for my purse.
Staying any longer had no benefit. I simply wanted to leave there, crawl under a rock, and never come out.
I mumbled to myself, “Ugh, this is the worst day ever,” and bolted from the café.
Little did I know, Mr. McSpillface and a lot of karma were engaged in a surprise the universe had waiting for me just around the bend.
The bus trip home passed in a haze. Every time I looked at the massive coffee stain mocking me from my dress, tears filled up in my eyes.
Physically and mentally, I looked like a damp mess by the time I arrived to my apartment complex.
Josh hurried out from the living room, worry on his face as I locked the door behind me.
“Hey, what happened?” he questioned, glancing once at my wrecked garment.
“Ugh, don’t even ask,” I said, dumping my bag and interview file over the couch. I dropped down next to them, buried head under hands.
The narrative fell out in a stream of tears and words.
I related the interview, the spilled coffee, Mr. McSpillface’s impolite behavior, the entire embarrassing experience I was a blubbering mess at the end.
Josh drew me into a consoling hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, softly brushing my hair. “You acted morally by avoiding conflict with that guy. Things wouldn’t have been improved by escalating them.”
Clearly, he was correct. That did not, however, help me feel better.
I stammered, “I just feel so… violated.” “And to damage on top of it my dress? Calling me names? How Dare he?”
Wiping away a stray tear from my face, he replied, “I know, honey.” But hear, karma is a concept. Trying to lighten the situation, that man winked and sure he will obtain what is approaching him.
And as it happens, karma did have a way of arranging things.
Dressed to the nines in my interview attire the following day, I became quite determined. Whether or not coffee stains, this was my job.
Early on, I arrived at the company’s headquarters, a knot of anxiety in my gut churning. Surprising me was the empty waiting area. The receptionist called me in for the interview just as I was beginning to play about with my CV.
Right away the kind interviewers helped me to relax. My credentials and experience seemed to wow them, and the conversation went naturally.
Still, a little detail sapped my enthusiasm.
They told me I would be meeting the boss alongside another candidate who had been shortlisted for the post.
As I left the conference room, I saw someone I knew seated in the hall. My heart stuttered; it was Mr. McSpillface, looking as polished and put together as always.
Replaying his insults from the café in my memory, a tsunami of rage swept over me.
First he didn’t see me; he was totally absorbed in his paperwork.
The receptionist said the boss was arriving and led us into his office just as I was choosing a chair to sit in. That’s when I met Mr. McSpillface, real name Sam.
His expression was just beautiful.
His jaw dropped and his eyes opened in total, disbelief. He resembled having eaten a live frog. Luckily, he never dared to say anything.
Naturally, the competitiveness still made me anxious. I could not have let this position go to HIM. Tensed silence hung in the conference room as we both sat side by side.
The door opened then, and a well-dressed man came in. Identifying himself as Mr. Felix, the CEO of the company, he said
He did something very different than launching into a bombardment of questions.
“Mrs. Parker,” he said, staring right at me, “congratulations! You are employed!”
My mouth dropped in a mime convention faster than a clown. What Wh-what? hired? Just as such? I sputtered, “But… the interview…”
Felix smiled. “Let me explain,” he continued, pointing for us to take seats.
He said he had happened to be at the café the day before by accident. He had seen the whole scenario with Mr. McSpillface: the spilled coffee, the allegations, the way I gracefully under duress managed the matter.
“I really was quite impressed,” he said. “You were cool and professional even in face of such disrespect. I exactly value the kind of worker you represent. Someone who can deftly manage a challenging circumstance instead of fanning it out.
He looked at Sam, who was now a light shade of green, furiously sweating. Regarding you, Mr.,…”
Sam croaked, his voice hardly audible. “Wesley.”
“Mr. Wesley,” Mr. Felix said, his voice tinged with ice, “you can regard yourself as persona non grata. For you, the interview ends. Actually, he leaned closer and his voice dropped to a deep growl, “I will make sure that your lack of professionalism and respect is known to all pertinent businesses in this sector.”
Sam’s face twisted with embarrassment and terror. Mr. Felix wouldn’t have it; he murmured something about apologies and second chances.
He said, pointing toward the door, “OUT!”
In his hurry to go, Sam staggered to his feet almost tripping over himself. A sense of relief surged over me as the door closed behind him. I sighed shakily, unable to help but.
Mr. Felix grinned politely. “So, Mrs. Parker,” he started, “are you ready to be on our team?”
Others, as they say, are history. Shaking Mr. Felix’s hand, thrill surged through me.
The way things turned around astounded me. Not only did I land the job, but I also felt the great gratification in seeing Sam presented a heaped dish of karma.
I came into my flat later that day, a spring in step and the official appointment letter tightly in hand. Josh hurried up to hug me, having been nervously waiting for my return.
“So?” he responded, flashing a broad smile. “Did you pick it?”
“Did I understand?!”? Holding up the letter, I said “I understood and guess who I observed during the interview?”
Josh’s eyes became wide. “Don’t tell me,” says
I started a dramatic recounting of the events, including impersonations (a horrible Mr. McSpillface and a shockingly good Mr. Felix).
We laughed until our sides hurt; the recollection of the café event now serves as a humorous sidekick instead of a trigger for rage.
“Karmas’s a lovely thing, isn’t it?” Josh remarked at last, blotting a tear from his eye.
“The most beautiful,” I said, lifting a glass of festive champagne. “To new beginning and to never spill coffee on jerks ever again!”
We clinked glasses, the sound resonating through the flat. The future seemed bright, and for the first time in a long time I felt really delighted. Though it involved a little spilled coffee and a lot of karma, the cosmos seems to have a means of balancing things out.