The faint store music couldn’t drown out the sound of her heels clicking on the polished floor as she made her grand entrance. Denise had that air of superiority, as if everyone should pause and admire her presence. And to be honest, she expected just that.
Dressed in a tailored designer coat, oversized sunglasses (despite being indoors), and a diamond necklace that probably cost more than my annual salary, she exuded the “look-at-me” vibe she always carried.
When she headed straight for my register, I felt my stomach flip. What on earth was she doing here? Denise had never come to my job before, and I sincerely wished it could have stayed that way forever. Her disapproving looks and passive-aggressive comments had always made me feel two inches tall, constantly reminding me I wasn’t “good enough” for her beloved son, Jack.
We’ve been married for five years, but my MIL never stopped finding ways to remind me of my supposed shortcomings. Jack, trying to avoid conflict, always took the easy way out, saying, “That’s just how Mom is.” His unwillingness to stand up for me drove me crazy, but I loved him and hoped Denise would eventually get tired of her antics. For years, I bit my tongue and let her behavior slide. But not anymore. Yesterday was the last straw.
Denise stopped in front of my register, her fake smile sending chills down my spine. In her arms were two cans of caviar—the finest, most expensive variety, each costing more than a month’s rent.
“Sweetheart,” she cooed in her signature tone that masked her condescension, placing the tins on the counter with a soft thud. She glanced around, probably ensuring she had an audience before continuing. “I need you to take care of this.”
I blinked, confused. “Sure,” I said, reaching to scan the cans.
But she stopped me with an exaggerated sigh. “No, dear. I need you to take care of it,” she clarified, her voice laced with irritation, as if explaining something obvious to a child.
“Take care of it?” I repeated, unsure if I had misunderstood.
Denise tilted her head, giving me a pitying look. “Yes, darling, pay for it. You’ve always been a bit slow, haven’t you?” she sneered. “I’m hosting a dinner party tonight, and my guests expect nothing but the best. I’m sure Jack won’t mind if you help out. After all, it’s what family does.”
I stared at her, stunned. Did she really just ask me to pay hundreds of dollars for caviar on the spot?
“Denise, that’s a lot of money,” I began, trying to stay calm.
But she waved me off. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. Jack will cover it. You’re his wife, and it’s your job to help out with things like this.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure Jack knows how uncooperative you’re being.”
That was the final straw.
I had tolerated a lot from Denise over the years, but this? This was different. She expected me to foot the bill for her extravagant party and had the nerve to try and manipulate me into it.
I could feel my coworkers and customers watching, sensing the tension. My heart pounded, but I knew exactly what I had to do. I forced a smile and leaned in, pretending to play along.
“You know what, Denise?” I said, my voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “You’re absolutely right. I will take care of it.”
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She thought she had won. “I knew you’d see reason,” she purred.
I scanned the caviar, watching the price rise on the register. Then, without hesitation, I pressed the microphone button connected to the store’s PA system.
“Attention, shoppers,” my voice echoed through the store. “I’d like to introduce you to a very special guest—my mother-in-law, Denise! She’s here to buy two cans of our finest caviar and has graciously asked me, her daughter-in-law, to pay for them. Let’s give her a round of applause for being such a generous family member!”
For a split second, there was silence. Then, someone in the back began clapping, followed by a few others. Within moments, the whole store erupted in applause! My coworkers were grinning, and even the customers were chuckling and clapping along.
Denise’s face flushed a deep shade of red. She glared at me, her voice low and furious. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, I just thought everyone should know how generous you are. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Without another word, she grabbed the bagged caviar, lips pressed into a thin line, and stormed out of the store. The applause and laughter continued as she clicked her way across the floor and out the door.
After she left, my coworker Rachel sidled up to me, barely containing her laughter. “That,” she whispered, “was the most legendary thing I’ve ever seen.”
Even the store manager, who had been watching from the back, gave me a wink. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said with a grin.
I finished my shift on a high note. It wasn’t just the applause or the fact that I had finally stood up to Denise in a public way—it was knowing that, for once, I had outplayed her.
Later that night, when I got home, I braced myself for the fallout. Jack was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, both confused and amused.
“So… what exactly happened with my mom today?” he asked, fighting back a laugh.
I sat down and told him everything. I expected him to be angry, but instead, he shook his head, barely holding in his laughter.
“You know,” he said, “I think she might leave us alone for a while.”
And you know what? He was right. Since then, my MIL hasn’t called, texted, or shown up.
Drew Carey opens up about mental health struggles as a teen: ‘Who’s gonna miss me?’
This isn’t the first time the comedian has acknowledged his battle with depression.
In 2007, he spoke about his darker days, but also emphasized the work he had done to break free.
“I learned how to believe in myself. Learned how to set goals, you know, self help books man. I just read every single one I can get a hold of and I still do. I read that stuff all the time still,” he said. “I am always coming out bigger, better, stronger and happier.”
During his recent interview, Carey shared with Wallace the valuable lessons he learned which help him in the battle against depression.
“Like, don’t take things personally. I took everything personally, if somebody wrote a bad review, I’d be like, what the hell? Coming after my money? You know, so yeah, that’s — all that’s gone.”
If you or someone you know needs help, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988.
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