Karl’s company was about to move to new heights, and this only reinforced his growing arrogance. However, after mistreating an air hostess on his flight to a life-changing meeting, Karl is finally humbled.
Karl was a middle-aged man well on his way to the big leagues. His company was about to become a subsidiary of a large multinational corporation.
Karl came from humble beginnings and had worked all of his life to finally get to this point in his career. He was set to travel to Chicago to sign his deal, and he was over the moon.
Karl had long awaited this moment, and he was set on enjoying it as much as he possibly could. He got himself a business-class ticket to celebrate his new venture.
His newfound success was beginning to go to his head, and Karl became a little reckless with his behavior and how he treated people. As he sat in his business-class seat, he pompously took in the view that surrounded him. This was his first time in business class.
“It’s about to be one hell of a celebration,” he said to the man sitting next to him.
“Oh, really!? What are we celebrating?” the man asked.
“I’m on my way to Chicago to sign the contract of a lifetime. This is definitely a champagne moment,” a cheerful Karl explains.
“Oh wow. That’s great. I’m happy for you,” the man said.
“What is this? The audacity! You take thirty minutes to bring me my champagne, and it’s warm!? Are you serious?”
“Hey! A chilled bottle of your best champagne!” Karl barked to the air hostess, snapping his fingers rather rudely.
“No problem, sir. I’ll attend to you in a second,” the air hostess kindly responded.
Thirty minutes went by, and Karl became agitated because he still hadn’t received his order. The air hostess finally came with Karl’s champagne, and Karl was not pleased at all.
“So? What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for about half an hour?” Karl barked at the air hostess.
“I’m so sorry about that, sir. I had to handle something in economy class,” the air hostess calmly responded.
“What is this? The audacity! You take thirty minutes to bring me my champagne, and it’s warm!? Are you serious?” Karl snapped, shoving the champagne bottle to the floor.
“I’m sorry, sir! I just—” the air hostess nervously started before being interrupted by a further agitated Karl.
“Stop with the excuses! Just do your job! I am your boss here! You understand?” Karl barked, the rest of the passengers now looking on at his spectacle.
As he was going off at the air hostess, who did her best to hold back her tears, an elderly woman, Anna, stepped into the business class cubicles. Karl was astonished to see the Chief Executive Officer for the very company he was about to sign to. Anna went straight to the air hostess and greeted her warmly.
“Thank you for what you did for me,” Anna said.
“It’s no problem. It was my pleasure,” the air hostess said, feigning a smile as she wiped her tears.
“Why are you crying?” Anna asked, concerned. Karl uncomfortably shifted to the side as the air hostess turned to look at him, with Anna following.
“Well, I think you should apologize to this young lady.”
“Uhm… Just… I just had a little disagreement with this gentleman here. That’s all,” the air hostess said, trying her best to conceal her hurt and frustration.
“Karl? What are the chances of us being on the same flight?” Anna said, shocked to see Karl and curious about what role he had to play in the air hostess’s sudden sadness.
“Uhm… Anna, yes, it’s a surprise to see you here. Why are you in economy class?” Karl hesitantly asked.
“Well, it saves me money to give to charity and other worthwhile causes. And you? Why are you making this woman’s job more difficult than it has to be? I heard you all the way from my section,” Anna said.
“Uhm… No, it’s just that she took forever to bring me my champagne, and it was warm when it arrived. Poor service delivery,” Karl said, sticking to his arrogance.
“Well, I think you should apologize to this young lady. While you were waiting on your champagne, I had an asthma attack, and she was kind enough to drop everything and attend to me. She saved my life,” Anna explained to Karl rather firmly and with conviction.
“Saved you?” a confused Karl asked.
“Yes, that’s what held up your champagne. I’m sorry about that. But don’t be so rash as to call out people on doing their job when you don’t understand the full scope of things. Take this as advice from someone who would’ve been your boss,” Anna said.
“Uhm… ‘Would’ve,’ ma’am?” Karl nervously asked.
“Karl… I have lots of money, but what would I do with them if my life was in the hands of the stewardess today? Never put yourself above other people. You may need their help. Anyways, we’ll conclude this conversation in Chicago,” Anna coldly said before turning to the air hostess with a smile. “And thank you again, my dear.”
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have treated you like that,” Karl said to the air hostess.
“It’s okay,” she responded.
Anna walked out of the business class section, leaving Karl completely perplexed. Karl became nervous about his contract when their flight finally landed in Chicago.
As fate would have it, Anna retracted the offer to Karl’s company, and the deal never ended up happening.
What can we learn from this story?
Never put yourself above others. Karl’s arrogance made him treat people wrongly, but it worked against him in the end.
Kindness goes a long way. The air hostess dropped everything to help Anna, and her kindness brought Anna to her defense later when Karl was mistreating her.
Tell us what you think, and share this story with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
My stepdaughter insisted that I transfer all of her late father’s assets to her – I did as she asked, but it didn’t turn out the way she expected
George’s absence haunts their home, his memory wrapped in his shirt that Mariana clutches each night. Yet, it wasn’t his death that shattered her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s demand for his assets. When she finally gave in, a twist emerged, leaving Susan furious and Mariana oddly at peace.
Moving on after losing a loved one is never easy. Sometimes, I still hear my hubby George’s voice in the back of my head. I wake up clutching his favorite shirt, his scent lingering on the fabric. But while I was still grieving his loss, what my stepdaughter did… it completely shattered me…
I’m Mariana, 57 years old, and I was married to the most wonderful man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, 34, from a previous marriage.
Our relationship with Susan used to be fine. She called me “Mom” and filled the void in my heart of not having a child of my own. I didn’t see her as “someone else’s” child. I loved her as my own daughter, you know.
When Susan got married to the man of her choice, George and I were overjoyed. But after that, everything went downhill when George was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Susan’s visits dwindled from weekly to monthly, then stopped altogether. She barely came to see her father, occasionally calling me to ask about his condition.
One day, she asked me something that tore me apart. “How many more days does he have left to live?”
I gripped the phone tightly, my voice trembling. “Susan, your father isn’t some product with an expiry date.”
“I just want to know, Mom. I’m busy, you know that… I can’t be visiting often,” she replied.
“Busy?” I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. “Too busy to see your dying father?”
She sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to visit soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never came.
Then, the day I dreaded finally arrived. The hospital called, informing me that George had passed peacefully.
I was shattered, barely able to stand as the news sunk in. My George, my beloved George, was gone.
To my shock and disappointment, Susan didn’t even attend his funeral. When I called her, she had an excuse ready.
“You know that I just delivered my baby last month, Mom,” she said, her voice oddly detached. “The doctors advised against long travel due to some health issues.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you want to see him one last time?”
“I can’t risk my baby’s health,” she replied curtly. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not really, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, sweetie. Take care.”
As I hung up and sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had fundamentally changed between us.
Six months after George’s passing, I was startled by a loud knock on my door. Opening it, I found Susan and her husband Doug, accompanied by a stern-looking man in a suit.
Susan barged in without a greeting. “Mom, we need you to sign some papers.”
I blinked, confused. “What papers?”
Doug thrust a stack of documents at me, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. It’s for transferring all the assets into our names.”
“Excuse me?” I stepped back, my heart racing. “What are you talking about?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Dad’s assets, Mom. We’re here to claim what’s rightfully ours.”
Their audacity left me speechless. If only George had left a will, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I would have ensured my daughter was taken care of before she even knew there was a problem.
But this? Their tone and audacity irked me. How could they think I’d just stand by and let them walk all over me?
“No,” I said firmly, finding my voice. “I want you to leave my house right now. And don’t you dare come back with such awful demands.”
Susan’s face contorted with anger. “You can’t do this! You’re not even my REAL MOTHER!”
Her words hit me like a bag of bricks. I stumbled back, tears welling in my eyes. “Susan, how can you say that? After all these years?”
“Just stick to your boundaries and pass on my father’s assets to me,” she spat.
I felt my blood pressure rising, my vision blurring with tears and rage. “Get out of my house!” I shouted. “Your father would be heartbroken if he knew what a greedy daughter you’ve become. I’m glad my George didn’t live to see this day.”
Susan launched into a tirade, her words becoming a blur of insults and demands.
“How dare you, Mariana? George was my father, not yours, and you have no right to anything here!” she yelled. “You think you can wiggle your way in here and take what’s ours? Over my dead body!”
That did it. Tears sprang from my eyes. Susan… the daughter my George and I had raised practically stabbed me with her words alone.
But no, I wouldn’t let them break me. Not me. Not Mariana.
“This is my home, and you’re not welcome! Take your greed and get out before I call the cops!” I retorted.
“Do you have any idea what you’re putting us through? You’re nothing but a greedy vulture, circling around for scraps my father left behind!” Susan barked.
“If you had an ounce of decency, you’d leave right now! But clearly, that’s asking too much!” I snapped.
“You think a few harsh words will scare us? Just sign the damn papers, lady!” Doug yelled at me.
I felt cornered by the daughter I’d loved and raised. I was furious and heartbroken.
When they refused to leave, my neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed over. “You heard her! This isn’t your place, and you’re not welcome. Move it!” he physically escorted Susan and Doug out.
As they left, Susan’s furious voice echoed back. “This isn’t over, Mariana! You’ll regret this!”
I slumped onto the couch, my heart aching. Where had all that love we once shared vanished? How could greed twist my daughter into someone I barely recognized?
With trembling hands, I reached for George’s framed photo on the side table. Tears blurred my vision as I traced his smiling face.
“Oh, George,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I’m lost without you.”
A sob escaped my throat as I clutched the frame to my chest. “Our daughter… our sweet Susan… she’s a stranger to me now. What happened to the little girl who used to call me Mom?”
The silence of the empty house pressed in around me, amplifying my grief. I rocked back and forth, the photo cool against my tear-stained cheeks.
“I miss you so much, honey,” I choked out. “I don’t know how to face this alone.”
Susan’s calls didn’t stop after that. Day and night, my phone buzzed with her angry messages and voicemails. Finally, exhausted and desperate for peace, I decided to give in.
I met with my lawyer, determined to give Susan what she wanted and be done with it. But there was something neither of us knew.
A week later, Susan stormed into my home again, her face red with fury.
“HOW DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed. “I only get $3,000 and an old car? What about everything else?”
I stared at her, a small smile forming on my face. “What are you talking about?”
Susan waved a paper in my face. “This! This pathetic inheritance you told the lawyer to give me! Where’s everything else?”
I took the paper from her, a small smile dancing on my lips. According to this, George only had $3,000 in his bank account, an old Mustang, and some debts.
“What about the house? The SUV? Dad’s old farmhouse?” Susan snapped.
You see, my lawyer, whom I’d called the other day, arrived and explained the situation. And this is what he said:
“Mrs. Anderson, everything the family owned is in your name. The house, the SUV, the farmhouse, everything. Mr. Anderson transferred it all to you years ago, keeping just three grand in his bank account and his old Mustang. It’s up to you now to decide the fate of these assets.”
Until the lawyer dropped the bomb, I’d assumed George had left me nothing. But no! He had made sure I’d be taken care of after he was gone. Bless his soul.
Susan’s face twisted with rage when I spilled the tea. “You’re lying! This can’t be true!” she hissed.
I looked at her, a strange calm settling over me. “Well, Susan, you wanted your father’s assets. Now you have them.”
“This isn’t fair!” she shrieked. “You tricked me!”
I looked up, a gentle smile plastered on my face. “No, Susan. I gave you exactly what you asked for… what rightfully belonged to your father. And now, I’m keeping what rightfully belongs to me.”
In the days that followed, I made a decision. I sold everything — the house, the SUV, the farmhouse, all of it. I made a decent eight figures, and bought a beautiful villa in a place I’d always dreamed of living, far from everyone.
As I settled into my new home, I received a call from an old friend back in town.
“Mariana,” she said, her voice hushed. “I thought you should know. Susan’s trying to start litigation against you.”
I sighed, unsurprised. “Let me guess, it fell through?”
“Yep. Everything was in your name, after all!”
I thanked her for the information and hung up, feeling a pang of sadness and relief.
Weeks passed, and I started to enjoy my new life. I traveled around the world, tried new hobbies, made new friends. But the peace didn’t last.
One day, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. When I answered, I heard a man’s voice. “Mrs. Anderson? I’m calling on behalf of Susan. She wants to meet with you.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m not interested.”
“But Mrs. Anderson, she insists—”
I cut him off. “Tell Susan she got what she wanted. I have nothing more to say to her.”
As I ended the call, I couldn’t help but wonder why Susan was so desperate to meet now. What more could she possibly want? The fragments of my remaining peace?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. I had a new life now, and I intended to live it to the fullest. After all, isn’t that what George would have wanted?
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