A wealthy young woman makes fun of the janitor at her father’s company, and he decides to teach her a lesson she will never forget.
Danielle Grobber had always gotten what she wanted. She was pretty, smart, talented, and very, very rich. At least, her father was very rich, and she always thought his money belonged to her.
Danielle, or Danie, as her friends called her, was a bit spoiled, but she usually used her charm and bright smile to get out of trouble. Then she crossed a line, and her father gave her a lesson she would never forget.
Danielle was excited to go on a two-week vacation to the Caribbean. She had convinced her father to take her shopping, even though she didn’t really need anything; she just loved spending time with him.
Unfortunately, her dad had to skip their lunch to handle some urgent matters. So, Danielle wandered around until she found a famous fast food restaurant. She ordered a burger, fries, a large soda, and an apple pie.
After getting her food, she walked back to her dad’s building, which had a nice lawn with trees, benches, and fountains. She sat down to eat while texting her friends on her phone.
When she finished, she wiped her mouth, crumpled the napkin, and put on her lipstick. Then she got up and walked away, leaving the trash on the bench.
A voice suddenly stopped her. “Excuse me, miss!” it said. “Please pick up your trash and throw it in the bin.”
Danie turned around and saw a thin old man in a janitor’s uniform who was sweeping the path. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you talking to ME?”
“Yes, young lady,” he replied. “This park is for everyone who works here, and it’s not fair to leave trash behind.”
“I don’t clean up!” Danie said proudly. “People clean up for me. People like you—the servant class. Isn’t that your job? So just do it!”
The elderly man turned red. “Young lady,” he said. “My job is to keep this building and garden clean, but what you did is rude…”
Danie interrupted him. “You work for my father, so you work for me! If I tell you to clean up, you clean up. If I tell you to lick my shoes, you do that too, or I’ll get you fired!”
Just then, Danie heard a loud voice: “DANIELLE!” She turned to see her father looking very angry. “Who do you think you are?” Jack Grobber asked. “How dare you treat this man poorly? He has worked for me for over 20 years, and he has a family!”
“Daddy?” Danie said in her sweetest voice. “Please don’t be mad! I’m so sorry!” But her father saw a hint of mockery in her smile. Danie thought she would get away with it, just like always.
“Apologize to Mr. Terence, Danielle,” Jack ordered. He watched as she turned to the janitor, trying to act charming, but he knew it was fake.
Jack thought, “It’s my fault. I have to fix this!” But how could he change a lifetime of being spoiled and teach her about respect and responsibility?
Then he had a great idea. “Mr. Terence, you look tired!” he said. “I think you need a vacation!”
Mr. Terence smiled and shook his head. “My wife says the same, Mr. Grobber, but I’m saving my vacation days for Christmas with the grandkids!”
“That’s okay, Mr. Terence,” Jack said. “I’m giving you two weeks off and an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas for you and your wife!”
Mr. Terence was shocked. “Sir? The Bahamas? But who will do my job?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Terence,” Jack said with a smile. “My daughter Danielle will be happy to do your job while you’re away to make up for how she treated you.”
“WHAT?” screamed Danie. “Are you crazy, Dad? I’m going on vacation!”
“Not anymore,” Jack said. “Mr. and Mrs. Terence will go instead, and you will take his place while he is away.”
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Danie yelled. “I’m not a janitor! Cleaning toilets? Sweeping? Picking up trash? I won’t do it!”
“Yes, you will,” her father said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll cut off your allowance and take away your convertible…”
“It’s MY car!” Danie cried.
“No, Danielle,” Jack said softly. “It’s MY car. I pay for it all. Everything you have is because of me. It’s time you learn how hard people work for every dollar.”
Danie knew her father well, and she could see in his eyes that she had crossed a line. He would not change his mind!
“You start on Monday,” Jack told her. Then he turned to Mr. Terence. “You should go home and pack! Enjoy your trip!”
On Monday morning, Danie showed up in her uniform, ready to clean and sweep. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, her pretty nails were ruined, and her soft hands were sore.
When Mr. Terence returned from the Bahamas with a nice tan, he told Mr. Grobber that Danielle had done a great job keeping everything clean—no trash in the garden!
From then on, Danie never disrespected anyone who worked hard because she understood how tough that job really was!
Danielle was excited to go on a two-week vacation to the Caribbean. She had convinced her father to take her shopping, even though she didn’t really need anything; she just loved spending time with him.
Unfortunately, her dad had to skip their lunch to handle some urgent matters. So, Danielle wandered around until she found a famous fast food restaurant. She ordered a burger, fries, a large soda, and an apple pie.
After getting her food, she walked back to her dad’s building, which had a nice lawn with trees, benches, and fountains. She sat down to eat while texting her friends on her phone.
When she finished, she wiped her mouth, crumpled the napkin, and put on her lipstick. Then she got up and walked away, leaving the trash on the bench.
A voice suddenly stopped her. “Excuse me, miss!” it said. “Please pick up your trash and throw it in the bin.”
Danie turned around and saw a thin old man in a janitor’s uniform who was sweeping the path. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you talking to ME?”
“Yes, young lady,” he replied. “This park is for everyone who works here, and it’s not fair to leave trash behind.”
“I don’t clean up!” Danie said proudly. “People clean up for me. People like you—the servant class. Isn’t that your job? So just do it!”
The elderly man turned red. “Young lady,” he said. “My job is to keep this building and garden clean, but what you did is rude…”
Danie interrupted him. “You work for my father, so you work for me! If I tell you to clean up, you clean up. If I tell you to lick my shoes, you do that too, or I’ll get you fired!”
Just then, Danie heard a loud voice: “DANIELLE!” She turned to see her father looking very angry. “Who do you think you are?” Jack Grobber asked. “How dare you treat this man poorly? He has worked for me for over 20 years, and he has a family!”
“Daddy?” Danie said in her sweetest voice. “Please don’t be mad! I’m so sorry!” But her father saw a hint of mockery in her smile. Danie thought she would get away with it, just like always.
“Apologize to Mr. Terence, Danielle,” Jack ordered. He watched as she turned to the janitor, trying to act charming, but he knew it was fake.
Jack thought, “It’s my fault. I have to fix this!” But how could he change a lifetime of being spoiled and teach her about respect and responsibility?
Then he had a great idea. “Mr. Terence, you look tired!” he said. “I think you need a vacation!”
Mr. Terence smiled and shook his head. “My wife says the same, Mr. Grobber, but I’m saving my vacation days for Christmas with the grandkids!”
“That’s okay, Mr. Terence,” Jack said. “I’m giving you two weeks off and an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas for you and your wife!”
Mr. Terence was shocked. “Sir? The Bahamas? But who will do my job?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Terence,” Jack said with a smile. “My daughter Danielle will be happy to do your job while you’re away to make up for how she treated you.”
“WHAT?” screamed Danie. “Are you crazy, Dad? I’m going on vacation!”
“Not anymore,” Jack said. “Mr. and Mrs. Terence will go instead, and you will take his place while he is away.”
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Danie yelled. “I’m not a janitor! Cleaning toilets? Sweeping? Picking up trash? I won’t do it!”
“Yes, you will,” her father said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll cut off your allowance and take away your convertible…”
“It’s MY car!” Danie cried.
“No, Danielle,” Jack said softly. “It’s MY car. I pay for it all. Everything you have is because of me. It’s time you learn how hard people work for every dollar.”
Danie knew her father well, and she could see in his eyes that she had crossed a line. He would not change his mind!
“You start on Monday,” Jack told her. Then he turned to Mr. Terence. “You should go home and pack! Enjoy your trip!”
On Monday morning, Danie showed up in her uniform, ready to clean and sweep. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, her pretty nails were ruined, and her soft hands were sore.
When Mr. Terence returned from the Bahamas with a nice tan, he told Mr. Grobber that Danielle had done a great job keeping everything clean—no trash in the garden!
From then on, Danie never disrespected anyone who worked hard because she understood how tough that job really was!
Businessman Loses All Hope After His Diagnosis, but One Hospital Encounter Changes Everything — Story of the Day
When a workaholic businessman receives devastating news about his health, he meets a young boy in the hospital who changes his outlook on life. Their bond grows through unexpected friendship and small acts of kindness, teaching him what truly matters—until a heartbreaking twist reshapes everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, shuffling through papers while juggling scheduling meetings with his partners.
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He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
No response. Andrew kept working, his focus sharp. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no answer. He repeated his name three more times.
Finally, Andrew slammed his hands on the desk and snapped, “What?”
Michael didn’t flinch. “You asked me to tell you if your ex-wife called.”
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Andrew groaned and rubbed his temples. “How many times do I have to tell you? Ignore her calls. What now?”
Michael held a notepad. “She left a message. I should warn you—it’s a direct quote. Her words, not mine.” He read from the note. “‘You pompous jerk, I will never forgive you for wasting so many years of my life. If you don’t give me back my painting, I’ll smash your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Does she not have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop taking her calls,” Andrew said. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and hurled it toward the wall. Michael ducked slightly, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned, picking it up.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said, irritated. “I’m busy.”
“Sorry, sir. The doctor will explain in person.”
Andrew sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll come in.” He hung up, shaking his head.
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Andrew rarely allowed himself the luxury of a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was quiet, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor stepped in, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
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The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a steady, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word—cancer. “We need to act fast,” the doctor said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Andrew asked, his voice sharp. “I own a company. I can’t just check into a hospital.”
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The doctor met his eyes. “Your health should come first. The company can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of getting better?”
“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor said. “Starting treatment right away is critical.”
Andrew’s voice rose. “Can I still work while I’m here?”
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“Treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You will stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. Someone can bring you a computer.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll sort it out.”
The doctor watched him leave. “We’ll see you tomorrow with your things,” he said before Andrew reached the door.
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As Andrew walked through the hospital’s pediatric wing, he noticed a boy, about eight years old, tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the corridor. The ball suddenly rolled across the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy called out, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tense. Without a word, he hurled it down the hall, far from the boy and nurse, then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been in the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and pushing through meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleep was nearly impossible.
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One afternoon, during another long chemotherapy session, Andrew leaned back, his eyes half-closed. He felt miserable.
Suddenly, a small voice broke through his fog. He opened his eyes to see a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew flinched. The boy giggled. It was the same boy from the corridor.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew mumbled, not even lifting his head.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. It’s boring here.”
Andrew glanced at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a wide grin.
Andrew sighed. “Listen, Tommy. I’m not in the mood to play. Go bother someone else before I start feeling worse.”
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Tommy didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small peppermint candy. He held it out to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then snatched the candy and set it on the table.
“You’re really grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grouch. Are you mad because you’re scared of needles?” He pointed at the IV attached to Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have a superpower?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice flat.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, his tone serious now.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the honesty in his big, bright eyes. “Is there anything you want?” Andrew asked.
Tommy grinned. “Yeah. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works really hard, but I don’t have any money.”
Andrew sighed again, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Get your flowers. Maybe buy yourself something too. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He ran out, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the peppermint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference for a while.
That evening, as Andrew stared at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She carried a small paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “Tommy sent it.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it full of peppermint candies. He shook his head, unsure whether to feel amused or moved.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He needed to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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As he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, his voice low.
The woman wiped her eyes quickly and looked up. “Yes… Did you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Grouch,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. I can’t even pay rent right now. They told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, unsure of what to say. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Tommy ran out, his face lighting up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grouch!” he called, grinning ear to ear.
From that day forward, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would wander into Andrew’s room with a big grin and endless energy. At first, Andrew found it annoying, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew began looking forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to notice the simple joys in life.
They sat by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors in the sky. They played harmless pranks on nurses, earning scolding looks and stifled smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and raced down the halls, laughing until their sides hurt.
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Andrew didn’t ask about Tommy’s illness. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy mentioned Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about money,” Tommy said. “We might lose our house.”
Andrew quietly gave Tommy an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved her off. “I’m not a magician,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
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Weeks passed. Andrew’s treatments worked, and the day came when the doctor gave him the news—he was cancer-free.
Ecstatic, Andrew rushed to share it with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, Sara sitting beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head. “The doctors said there’s nothing more they can do.”
Andrew stared at her, struggling to process the words. “But… he seemed so happy. He always smiled. I thought he was improving.”
Sara looked at him, her face full of pain. “He didn’t want you to see how sick he was. He wanted to be strong for you. He thought he was a superhero.”
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Andrew’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Sara managed a faint smile through her tears. “Don’t be. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget about being sick.”
Andrew shook his head slowly. “No. He’s the one who saved me.”
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He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. She cried quietly against his shoulder, and though Andrew wished he could take her pain away, he knew nothing would ever truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had made.
Andrew sat alone in his room afterward, overwhelmed by the loss. Andrew couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul being forgotten.
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Determined, he started a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring his kindness would live on.
He also stayed in touch with Sara, offering her support in every way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew silently handed her the painting.
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“I’m not here to argue,” Andrew said, his tone calm as he held out the painting.
His ex-wife frowned, puzzled. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, a small smile forming. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Taking care of Mom was hard enough without the tension with my sister. Accusations flew when precious things started disappearing. I thought I knew who was to blame, but the truth shattered my world. Betrayal came from where I least expected, leaving me questioning everything—and everyone—I trusted.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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