Entitled Brat Mocks School Custodian, Gets Taught a Priceless Lesson in the Best Way Possible

Entitled Brat Mocks School Custodian, Gets Taught a Priceless Lesson in the Best Way Possible

Entitled teen Emma thought the world revolved around her and she mocked people based on their appearance. One day, the girl took her mockery too far and brutally insulted Mrs. Johnson, a poor older custodian. But karma was about to deliver a priceless lesson this entitled brat wouldn’t soon forget.

Alright, lovely people of the internet! Ever witnessed a high schooler throw some serious shade at someone who totally didn’t deserve it?

Because what I’m about to tell you involves a major brat who ruthlessly mocked a poor old custodian and got a life lesson delivered in the most epic way possible…

A schoolgirl in a hallway | Source: Midjourney

So here’s this rich girl named Emma in my sophomore English class, who basically waltzed around like she owned the place.

Think designer everything, a posse of giggling followers, and the permanent sneer of someone utterly convinced the world was her personal runway.

Her favorite target? Our sweet custodian, Mrs. Johnson, a hardworking older lady in her late 60s. Think soft-spoken, kind, and always cheerful – that’s Mrs. Johnson for you.

A custodian mopping the floor | Source: Midjourney

This sweet custodian in our school, bless her heart, was magic. Always had a smile, even when mopping up cafeteria mystery spills that defied identification.

Emma, though? She’d make snide remarks about Mrs. Johnson’s cleaning cart, calling it a “janitor chariot” in that grating, nasally voice.

A teen girl laughing | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, I caught Emma dumping her half-eaten lunch on the floor by the water fountain, then sauntering away like it was nothing. Mrs. Johnson patiently approached the mess with a sigh.

“Emma, honey,” she called out gently, “did you drop this?”

A burger on the floor | Source: Midjourney

Emma whipped around, highlighter poised like a weapon. “Ugh, whatever, Mrs. J. Just clean it up, that’s your job, right?” The look on Mrs. Johnson’s face… well, let’s just say the sunshine usually radiating from her seemed to dim a bit.

A girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

Ugh, you know those moments where you just want the earth to swallow you whole? Well, that’s exactly how I felt witnessing Emma’s latest tirade.

This girl, with her designer everything and attitude, seemed to take a particular pleasure in tormenting Mrs. Johnson.

An older woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

One lunch period, I rounded the corner by the cafeteria to find Emma holding court near the overflowing trash cans. Mrs. Johnson was pushing her cleaning cart past them, mop leaving a clean streak in its wake.

A girl teasing someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma, with a smirk that could curdle milk, decided to unleash a verbal grenade at the poor woman who never meant harm to anyone.

“HEY, MRS. JOHNSON,” the girl barked with a chuckle, “MAYBE IF YOU HAD STUDIED HARDER, YOU WOULDN’T BE STUCK CLEANING UP AFTER US!”

A sad woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

The worst part? Her disciples as in the little gang that followed her like a puppy burst out laughing. Mrs. Johnson stopped pushing her cart, the rhythmic squeak of the wheels falling silent.

Her shoulders slumped a fraction, and for a horrible moment, I thought I saw a flicker of tears welling up in her kind eyes.

An upset woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

Then, Emma doubled down, leaning in with a malicious glint.

“Seriously, do you even know how to read? Or did you just skip school altogether?”

Mrs. Johnson’s silence was deafening. The hurt flickered in her eyes like a dying flame, and I knew I couldn’t be a bystander any longer. Emma needed a lesson, and detention wouldn’t cut it.

A sad woman on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

Fast forward to chemistry class later that week, our chemistry teacher Ms. Thompson droned on about the periodic table.

Suddenly, she cleared her throat, the sound sharp enough to pierce Emma’s bubble. “Alright class,” she announced, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, “we have a special guest lecturer today. A former university professor with a wealth of knowledge to share.”

A chemistry teacher in class | Source: Midjourney

A hush fell over the room as the door creaked open. A woman in a crisp cap and gown strode in, a stack of papers clutched confidently in her hand. Her gaze swept the classroom, lingering for a beat on Emma, who finally looked up from her phone.

You should have seen Emma’s white-as-a-ghost face when she saw the guest lecturer. You see, this wasn’t some stuffy professor flown in from a distant college. No, this woman, radiating quiet authority, was none other than Mrs. Johnson!

A shocked girl | Source: Midjourney’

“Good afternoon, class,” Mrs. Johnson greeted. “Today, we’ll be discussing the fascinating world of…” She paused, letting the silence build. “Perhaps, Ms. Emma,” she continued, her eyes locking with Emma’s, “you can tell me the difference between a hypothesis and a theory.”

The classroom held its breath. Emma’s mouth gaped open like a landed fish. This was only the beginning, and the best part? She had no idea what was about to hit her.

A woman staring intensely at someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s jaw dropped, and her face turned as red as a tomato. Mrs. Johnson proceeded to give the most engaging lecture on organic chemistry I had ever witnessed.

She explained complex concepts with ease and answered every question thrown at her with the expertise of someone who had spent years in the field.

“So, who can tell me why carbon forms four bonds?” Mrs. Johnson’s eyes scanned the room.

An annoyed girl | Source: Midjourney

“Isn’t it because of its four valence electrons?” a boy named Jake piped up, a bit unsure.

“Exactly! And how does that affect its ability to form complex molecules?” Her voice was encouraging, drawing the class in.

“It means… it can bond with many different elements?” a student named Sarah hesitated.

A boy raising his hand in class | Source: Midjourney

“Precisely! And that’s why carbon is the backbone of organic chemistry. It’s versatile,” Mrs. Johnson beamed.

Emma, still red-faced, mumbled, “I didn’t know a janitor could know so much.”

A girl lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson paused, looking directly at Emma. “You know, knowledge isn’t confined to titles. It’s about passion and curiosity.”

The class was silent, absorbing her words while some giggled at Emma.

“Any more questions?” Mrs. Johnson asked, turning back to the board.

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

Emma was so embarrassed and furious that she sat frozen in her seat. Her eyeballs darted around, tracking Mrs. Johnson like a predator stalking its prey.

After the lecture, Mrs. Johnson removed her academic cap and looked directly at Emma.

“Maybe if you study harder, you won’t end up making assumptions about people based on their jobs, girl!” she said calmly.

A woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

The entire class erupted in applause while Emma sat there, stunned and embarrassed.

You should’ve seen the girl’s face. She was seething. She wasn’t the type to let this slide.

The next thing we knew, Emma stormed out of the classroom, her footsteps echoing down the hall. But my mind was still on this entitled brat. What was she planning?

A girl leaving a classroom | Source: Midjourney

Of course, Emma, being the firecracker she was, couldn’t take her public humiliation lying down. The rumor mill went into overdrive, churning out a story so outlandish it almost made me laugh.

Apparently, The girl started spreading rumors that Mrs. Johnson had borrowed the professorial garb from a friend (who?) and simply read the lecture off a script (written by whom?).

Funny, right?

A girl in the school cafeteria | Source: Midjourney

The rumor spread like wildfire. Even some normally level-headed students started giving Mrs. Johnson the side-eye. It was infuriating! But Mrs. Johnson, bless her heart, remained calm. No dramatics, no tearful outbursts. She simply… waited.

The opportunity for a counter-strike arrived with the much-dreaded parent-teacher conference the next week. Parents flooded the school, armed with questions and concerns.

People at a doorway | Source: Midjourney

Among them were Emma’s parents, both prominent figures in the community with a reputation for being… well, let’s just say they wielded their influence like a well-worn scepter.

As I finished my conference with a concerned parent, I spotted Mrs. Johnson standing by the refreshments table.

A woman looking to her side | Source: Midjourney

During the conference, she requested to speak. She calmly walked to the front of the room, pulled out a folder, and began distributing copies of her Ph.D. diploma, letters of recommendation from her previous university, and published research papers.

The parents and teachers were stunned. Even me.

Certificates on a table | Source: Midjourney

“As you can see,” Mrs. Johnson declared, “I have the qualifications necessary to teach chemistry.” She paused, letting the evidence sink in. “I’ve heard rumors suggesting otherwise, and I want to address them directly.”

Emma’s parents, visibly uncomfortable, exchanged worried glances. Mrs. Johnson turned her gaze to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I’m aware your daughter has been spreading these rumors.”

A startled couple | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s mother started to speak, but Mrs. Johnson raised a hand gently. “Please, let me finish.”

She took a deep breath. “I took this custodial job not because I lacked education or ambition, but because I needed the extra money to care for my ill husband. My choices were driven by love and responsibility, not by a lack of intelligence or effort.”

A woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

A hush fell over the room. Parents looked at each other, some nodding in understanding, others shifting uncomfortably.

“My husband passed away last year,” Mrs. Johnson continued, tears welling up in her eyes. “But I stayed on as a custodian because this school and these students mean the world to me.”

A woman’s teary eyes | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s face went completely pale at this point. Mrs. Johnson stepped back from the podium, and said, “I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. I’m here to educate and support your children, no matter my title. I might be a custodian who washes toilets and scrubs floors… but I’m still human.”

Emma’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.

Anxious girl biting her nails | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s parents were mortified. They apologized profusely to Mrs. Johnson and promised to deal with their daughter.

Emma was grounded for months and had to do community service as part of her punishment. One of her tasks? Helping Mrs. Johnson with her custodial duties after school.

A young girl on the verge of crying | Source: Midjourney

I watched Emma begrudgingly pick up a mop and start cleaning the hallway. Mrs. Johnson worked alongside her, showing her the ropes. At first, Emma was sullen and silent, but over time, I noticed a change.

One afternoon, as I passed by, I heard Emma ask Mrs. Johnson, “Why did you stay on as a custodian after your husband passed?”

A girl standing in a school hallway | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson paused, wiping her hands on a rag. “This school became my second home. And the kids here, well, they needed someone who cared.”

Emma frowned. “But you could have done something else, right?”

Mrs. Johnson smiled gently. “Sure, but sometimes, it’s not about what you can do, but where you feel you can make the most impact.”

A girl talking to someone | Source: Midjourney

Emma’s eyes softened. “I never thought about it that way.”

As the weeks went by, Emma’s demeanor shifted. She began to show up early, ready to work, and started to ask Mrs. Johnson more about her life. They shared stories, and slowly, Emma developed a grudging respect for her.

An older woman’s compassionate eyes | Source: Midjourney

The girl was ashamed of herself and even apologized to Mrs. Johnson. How cool was that?!

Mrs. Johnson, ever the kind soul, forgave Emma and used the opportunity to mentor her. Eventually, Emma’s grades improved, and she became more considerate towards others.

By the time she graduated, she had completely transformed from the entitled brat she once was.

A cheerful young girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, Emma approached Mrs. Johnson after finishing her custodial duties. I was there, talking to the sweet old lady. I thought Emma would hesitate or feel shy to talk to the custodian in front of me.

But the girl proved me wrong. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m really sorry for everything. I was awful to you,” she said and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

A woman smiling at someone | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson smiled gently and replied, “Emma, we all make mistakes. What’s important is that you learn and grow from them.”

Emma nodded, her eyes sincere. “I have, thanks to you.”

Ah, it was such a heartwarming sight, you know! The mentorship deepened, with Mrs. Johnson helping Emma with her studies and offering life advice. Emma’s grades soared, and her attitude shift was noticeable to everyone.

A girl in a classroom | Source: Midjourney

Graduation day arrived, and Emma, now the valedictorian, stood at the podium. She took a deep breath, scanning the audience until her eyes landed on Mrs. Johnson.

“I want to thank someone very special,” she began, “Mrs. Johnson, our school’s custodian and my mentor, taught me the most valuable lesson of all: never judge a book by its cover.”

A young girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

The crowd murmured, and Mrs. Johnson looked surprised and touched. We teachers, along with the principal himself, were equally moved. I even spotted him discreetly wiping a stray tear from his eye.

Emma continued, “Her kindness, wisdom, and support changed my life. Because of her, I’m standing here today, ready to face the future.”

As the applause erupted, the girl stepped down and hugged Mrs. Johnson tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for everything. For opening my eyes.”

A girl on graduation day | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Johnson’s eyes were misty and all she could do was pull Emma into a tight hug. The room erupted in applause, and even some of us teachers found ourselves wiping away tears.

Lesson learned: never underestimate someone by their appearance!

Mrs. Johnson, the custodian, just dropped some serious knowledge (and a Ph.D.!). Anyone else ever been surprised by someone’s hidden depths? Let’s hear about it!

A woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

I Stumbled Upon a Contract in My Wife’s Car — Her Rich Father Had a Deal with Her Behind My Back

Firefighter Grant has always believed that love conquers all. Until he finds divorce papers in his wife’s car, tied to a deal with her ruthless father. Betrayal burns deep, but Meghan has something else up her sleeve… Soon, a high-stakes game begins, where love, loyalty, and revenge collide in a way no one sees coming.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never been the kind of guy who was happy sitting behind a desk and doing a boring job. I was never the kind of guy who wore a suit, other than for funerals or weddings.

I am a hands-on, grease-in-your-face kind of guy, who grew up in a family where hard work meant everything. And the one lesson we always had growing up was: you stood by your family no matter what.

A smiling firefighter | Source: Midjourney

That’s the only kind of life I know.

But then I met Meghan, and things got a bit twisted.

I’ll never forget the night we met. The guys and I were taking part in our usual chili cookoff. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was what we loved to do on our quiet evenings.

Not that we were allowed to say the word “quiet.”

A pot of chili and a tray of garlic bread | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t even think about saying the ‘q’ word, Grant!” my partner, Phil, said as he squeezed a lemon.

“I wasn’t going to!” I exclaimed. “But I think you mentioning it counts. It’s on Phil, everyone!”

And just like that, our fire alarms went off, alerting us to a tragedy.

A smiling firefighter | Source: Midjourney

There was a fire in the apartment building just off the university campus. It was close to us, so being the closest fire station, we were the ones to save the day.

When we got to the apartment building, smoke was already pouring from the windows.

“Right, you all know what to do!” our captain shouted, giving us our orders.

Just when we thought we had everything under control, I heard a bark from inside the building.

An apartment building on fire | Source: Midjourney

“Got it, Grant?” Phil bellowed over the sound of the hose.

“Got it!” I said, already running into the building. I didn’t think. I just moved.

I made my way through the smoke and debris, following the anxious barks. I finally found the little guy. A terrified golden retriever, curled in a corner, whimpering, its fur singed at the edges. Scooping it up, I sprinted through the suffocating heat, barely making it out before the ceiling collapsed behind me.

A dog in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

“It’s okay, boy,” I said, holding onto him. “You’re safe now.”

The moment my boots hit the pavement, a woman ran straight toward me. Tear-streaked and panicked, she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around the trembling dog.

And then, before I could even process it, she threw herself at me.

“Thank you!” she gasped. “Thank you for saving my baby!”

A firefighter, woman and a dog | Source: AmoMama

And that was Meghan.

“It was my apartment,” she said. “I started the fire. I put fries in the oven and was sitting on the couch waiting for the timer to go off. But I must have fallen asleep. I’m so sorry! Look at the mess I’ve made of everything. And I was so sure I lost this guy…”

Her voice trailed off as she reached down to hug the dog again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I invited her back to the firehouse.

The exterior of a firehouse | Source: Midjourney

“Listen, ma’am,” I said. “We’re almost done here. If you want, you can come back with us. We’ve got everything you and the little guy need. Until your family gets to you, I mean.”

Meghan smiled shyly and then nodded.

And that was the beginning of everything.

Meghan was everything I wasn’t. She was graceful and smart and born into a world of old money and quiet luxury. The complete opposite of me.

A woman standing on a sidewalk | Source: Midjourney

But somehow, Meghan still chose me.

Her father, though? Yeah, that man hated me from the get-go.

Paul wasn’t just rich. He was old-money rich. Like, the kind of man who could buy a politician with pocket change. When he saw me, he didn’t see a firefighter. He saw a stray dog that his daughter had dragged home. A charity case. Something that she would get bored of.

A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

The first time we met, he shook my hand like he was testing the grip of a wrench. He was always with the polite smiles, the fake pleasantries. But I knew what he thought about me.

“I’m sure Meghan will outgrow this fool,” I overheard him telling his wife, Miranda, once.

“Darling, don’t say that,” Miranda said. “Meghan seems happy. Really happy. I think this is real.”

“Over my dead body, Miranda!” he exclaimed.

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

But she loved me. Meghan loved me. And she made that clear.

For years, it was all that mattered. Life moved on. We got married. We built a life together. She worked in non-profit law, and I kept running into burning buildings.

Sometimes, I’d catch her staring off, looking like she had something on her mind. But whenever I asked, she’d just smile.

“Everything is fine, love. I’m just tired from drawing up contracts and looking through paperwork.”

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

Of course, I believed her.

Until the day I found the documents in her car.

I wasn’t snooping. I’d left my watch in the center console and was rummaging around when I saw the envelope. Thick, official-looking. Important.

My name wasn’t on it, but hers was.

Documents on a car seat | Source: Midjourney

I don’t know what made me open it. Call it instinct. Call it stupid. Call it whatever you’d like. But the moment I unfolded that contract, my stomach dropped.

It was paperwork for a mansion with at least twenty photographs attached. It was a beautiful and huge place with a lake view (!?). It was the kind of place that I couldn’t even dream of affording.

But the worst part?

The fine print on the last page, after the signed divorce papers.

The house would be Meghan’s… if she went through with a divorce.

A mansion overlooking a lake | Source: AmoMama

Oh, and she needed to provide proof of said divorce.

My hands shook as I reread the words. My throat closed up.

It had finally happened.

All the whispers, all the side glances, the disapproving nods from her family… they had gotten to her. Hadn’t they?

Meghan was leaving me.

A man sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney

I picked up my phone, fingers unsteady as I texted her.

Meg, I was looking for my watch in your car and I found some paperwork. I’m not judging. I just need to understand. If this is really what you want, then honey, I won’t stand in your way.

And then I waited.

By the time I got home, Meghan was already there, standing in the living room. She was pale and upset. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

“You really think I took the deal?” she asked.

A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney

Her voice was steady, but there was a clear edge to it.

“Grant, seriously?” she added.

“What else am I supposed to think, Meghan?” I asked. “I saw the damn papers!”

She stepped closer to me. Her eyes were fierce.

“You only saw one part of the truth,” she said.

A man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“What’s the other part? There’s more?” I asked, heart pounding.

She took a breath, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box.

Inside was a man’s wedding ring.

“Will you marry me?” she asked.

I think my brain short-circuited in that moment.

“What?”

A ring in a box | Source: Midjourney

“Again,” she added, smirking.

I stared at my wife like she had lost her entire mind. But then, then she started explaining.

Paul wanted me gone. He always had. He made her an offer.

“I had to leave you and then get the house,” she said simply. “So I agreed. And I signed the papers. I played the game he wanted me to play.”

A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney

But it turned out that she only played his game so that she could pull off this…

A plan. A trap. A web of white lies to lead to her, our, happiness.

The divorce went through. Legally, Meghan was no longer my wife.

Should I have questioned it? Sure. But I trusted her.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

That was step one. As for step two?

Meghan got full ownership of the mansion. Paul made sure that the contract technically kept the house under their family assets for a minimum of five years. He thought that it gave him control.

But what he didn’t expect… was that Meghan would transfer the property immediately.

The exterior of a mansion | Source: Midjourney

“Straight into a non-profit trust, Grant,” she said. “I knew exactly how to structure it. The second the house was in my name, I filed the paperwork. It is ironclad. Non-reversible. Even my father can’t fight it now.”

And step three?

Meghan sent Paul an invitation.

An envelope on a table | Source: Midjourney

Dear Dad,

I would love for you to join me this Saturday at my new home. It’s for a special charity event. It’s an opportunity to see how generosity can truly change lives.

Meghan

A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

The night of the event, Paul walked in smug as ever, expecting to toast to Meghan’s new life without me.

He had no idea.

The grand dining room was packed. There was live music, fresh flowers, champagne, and even a chocolate fountain.

Meghan took the microphone, poised and radiant as ever, and she smiled at her guests.

A woman standing in a dining room | Source: Midjourney

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “Let me introduce the man of great heart and compassion. The man who made it all possible. My father, Paul!”

Applause erupted. Paul straightened his tie, smirking as he walked to the center.

And then Meghan twisted the knife.

An older man wearing a suit | Source: Midjourney

“It is thanks to my father’s generosity that we have officially established a foundation for fire victims in this mansion. It will serve as a refuge, providing emergency housing and support for those in need.”

Silence.

And then there was a ripple of applause.

Paul’s smile faltered. His nostrils flared as the realization dawned on him. But he couldn’t object, not in public. Not when people were applauding his kindness and generosity.

And then it was my turn.

A man standing in a lavish dining room | Source: Midjourney

I walked onto the makeshift stage and dropped to one knee. I held up that velvet box.

“Meghan,” I said. “Will you marry me, love?”

“Yes!” she announced to the room. “Of course, I will, Grant. A thousand times over.”

The room exploded in cheers and applause.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

She turned to the guests, gripping the mic.

“This is the love of my life,” she declared. “This man is a firefighter. He is the bravest, most honest, and most comforting man I’ve ever known. He is my joy and inspiration.”

Paul’s jaw tightened. His eyes burned with a silent rage. But he could do absolutely nothing.

Because… the mansion? The deal? It was all final.

An angry man | Source: Midjourney

Paul turned on his heel, signaled to Miranda to follow him, and stormed out.

I knew that this wasn’t over and that he would try to fight. He would try to reclaim control. But Meghan had played the long game.

And this time? He had already lost.

“I took the carrot,” she said. “But I didn’t eat it.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“Come,” I said. “The minister is ready to marry us again.”

I pulled her into my arms, laughing. Relief, admiration, and love tangled up inside me.

I had so much to learn from this woman. And God, I had never been prouder to be her husband. Again.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

What would you have done?

If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

Poppy thought her husband was cheating. The late nights. The locked phone. The earring in his car that wasn’t hers. But the truth is far worse. Someone tried to kill her. And William? The man she doubted? He’s wrapped up in the truth, too. Now, Poppy must uncover the truth before it’s too late.

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.