At 38, my life took a sharp turn. As a mother of three—Emma (15), Jack (9), and Sophie (7)—I went from being a project manager to a cashier at a local grocery store after discovering my husband James’ affair. The stress of the divorce and job loss was overwhelming, but I needed to support my kids.

One day, a customer in expensive clothes approached my register. I was exhausted, just wanting to go home for pizza night with my kids. “What’s with the face, dear? Why aren’t you smiling?” she asked, tapping her long nails on the counter. I apologized and forced a smile.

Her insults continued. “I’d have that face too if I worked here. You’re miserable because you don’t earn enough.” Embarrassed but maintaining my composure, I continued ringing up her items. Then, her child knocked over the cart, spilling groceries and shattering expensive wine bottles.

As the woman berated her child, I calmly helped clean up. Mr. Adams, the manager, approached. “We can replace the broken items, but you’ll need to pay for them,” he said. She handed me her credit card, but it was declined. She tried calling someone, but no one answered.

The growing line of customers watched, some shaking their heads. Mrs. Jenkins, a regular, remarked, “Looks like karma has its way.” The woman had to wait in the store, humiliated, until her husband arrived. He angrily paid and berated his family before storming out.

“Go home to your kids,” Mr. Adams said. I left, grateful for my job and my children. Despite the challenges, I knew we’d be okay.