When a rude customer stormed into our family pizzeria, accusing us of ruining her order, she had no idea what was coming. Grandma, ever calm, manned the register while the woman slammed a pizza box onto the counter.

“This isn’t what I ordered!” she snapped, demanding a refund.

Grandma smiled sweetly. “Let’s have a look,” she said, opening the box. Without missing a beat, she calmly replied, “This isn’t from our shop.”

The woman blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Pointing to the logo on the box, Grandma said, “This pizza is from the place across the street.”

The woman’s face turned crimson. Without another word, she grabbed the box and rushed out, only to face laughter from the rival shop staff who’d seen everything. Their manager called after her, “Your order’s still here if you want it!”

She sped away, red-faced and humiliated, leaving both shops in fits of laughter.

Grandma, as unruffled as ever, smiled and said, “Life has a funny way of serving up what we deserve. Sometimes it’s a slice of humble pie.”