When I was 25, my mom, Cathy affectionately known around town as “The Cookie Lady”—was unfairly fired for an act of kindness. She had worked at Beller’s Bakery for 18 years, always arriving before sunrise with flour on her apron and a warm smile for every customer. One rainy evening, just before closing, a homeless veteran wandered in soaked, cold, and clearly hungry. Without hesitation, Mom handed him a towel and packed up some leftover bread and muffins.
“It’s just going in the trash anyway,” she said kindly, handing him the food. But the next morning, her new manager, Derek young, corporate, and lacking compassion fired her immediately. “That’s theft,” he said coldly. She came home in tears, still wearing her sunflower-print apron. I remember how she tried to stay strong for me, and how tightly my chest ached seeing her hurt. That moment stayed with me. Ten years later, I was running a successful food-tech company focused on collecting leftover food from restaurants and bakeries and donating it to shelters legally and proudly.
One day, while reviewing applications for an operations manager, a name on a résumé stopped me in my tracks: Derek. He didn’t recognize me when he arrived for the interview. In fact, he even bragged about once firing an older woman for “stealing inventory” by giving away baked goods. I let him finish. Then I calmly said, “That woman was my mother.” His face went pale. I told him there was no job for him but mentioned the shelter down the street might be hiring.
That evening, I called Mom. She now leads community outreach at my company, spending her days doing what she’s always loved helping others. She never asked for revenge. She just kept being kind. But seeing karma come full circle that day felt like closing a chapter that had been left open for too long. Sometimes, doing the right thing takes time to reveal its rewards. This time, it did.