Karma

We’d been lucky for so long. Our customers were great, new and regulars alike that we hadn’t had to deal with any true-blue, full-blown, let-me-speak-to-your-manager types. Not tonight. The four-top of Karens walked in like we owed them money, wore their masks below their noses, had the proverbial Karen haircuts, and probably had their homes decorated in Live, Laugh, Love. They were dragons, breathed fire and condescension, and were seated in my section.

I grabbed menus, took a deep breath, and began my approach. “Good evening! My name is Amber, and I’ll be your server.”

The first Karen’s big, blond hair didn’t move as she whipped her head toward me to glare. “Do you know how long we waited to be seated?”

I’m sorry, ma’am. I know we’ve got quite a wait tonight.”

“Twenty minutes! And yet we’re seated at a sticky table.” She placed both hands on the table, then lifted them again. “Does that seem acceptable to you?”

I’d noticed nothing because of her theatrics. Still, I was full of apologies. “I’m sorry! I’ll get this table wiped down immediately!” I darted off to get this accomplished but got called back by Karen number two.

“Young lady! Are you going to get our drink order before you run off?”

“I was going to…” I trailed off, then shook my head to regroup. “I would be happy to get your drinks,” I told them, my mask hiding my scowl.

After quickly cleaning their table I went back to the bar to make their drinks. Once I brought them back and placed them in front of their respective Karens, I focused on the matter at hand. “Have you ladies had a chance to look at the menu?”

None of them answered. They wouldn’t even look at me. Of course, they weren’t looking at the menus; all four were on their phones.

“Alright, I’ll give you a few minutes,” I told them, anxious to get away and to check on my other tables.

“What kind of vodka did you use?” Karen number three snapped.

“Tito's,” I told her. “I asked if Tito's was okay, and you said it was.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember that. I’d have told you I wanted Grey Goose if you’d asked.”

I always ask. “Would you like a new Bloody Mary with Grey Goose instead?”

“Obviously.” The woman slid her drink away as if the Tito's might poison her.

“Everyone else’s drinks tasting okay?”

Again, no one responded. I whirled around, stomped to the bar, and slammed the glass down. I checked on my other tables first, then remade the drink and walked it back over slowly. I didn’t want to face them again.

They were actually ready to order this time, but it was as if they were trying to out-Karen each other with their complicated orders.

When I put their order back, I caught the eye of our head cook, Nicole, and mouthed my apology.

“What’s wrong?” She must have noticed my look of utter defeat.

“Table 34,” I told her. “At least one of these plates is coming back, guaranteed.”

I busied myself with checking on my other tables, though I did reluctantly go back to check on my Karens, too. As expected, I got chewed out because they claimed to have been waiting for their next round for thirty minutes. It’d been five minutes at most.

I apologized half-heartedly. When I brought their second round, Karen number four wanted Grey Goose in her Bloody Mary too and claimed to have told me that from the start. When I pointed out that she’d drunk the first one mixed with Tito's, the famous Karen phrase was used. “I want to speak to your manager!”

“No problem,” I told them, smiling under my mask. “Her name is Danielle. I’ll get her right away for you.”

I quickly scanned the restaurant for Danielle and found her behind the bar making drinks. “Hey,” I began.

She glanced up from her pour and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a table that wants to speak to the manager.”

“Really?” She looked surprised. “Who is it?”

“Table 34. Four women.”

“The ones that complained about the wait?”

I nodded in confirmation.

“What’s the problem?”

Briefly, I outlined ‘the problem’.

“She wants a free drink, but she’s not getting it,” Danielle said, “but I’d be happy to tell her that.”

I watched Danielle saunter to the table and speak with them. All four of them animatedly regaled her with stories of my rudeness, I assumed.

When Danielle returned, she was smirking. “Apparently, you were rude and condescending.”

“Me?” I squeaked.

“Don’t worry,” Danielle said, shaking her head. “I told them you’re one of my best servers, but if they’re not happy they can take their food to-go. Now they’re mad at both of us.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me know if they cause any more trouble.”

Their food came up, and as expected, there was something wrong with it. It wasn’t just one plate, either. All four plates came back. I don’t know if I’ve ever hated anyone as much as I hated those women as I made the walk of shame back to the kitchen with their food.

Danielle appeared in the kitchen behind me. “Is that their food?”

“Yep,” I confirmed. “None of them were happy with their meals.”

“We’re not redoing anything. Nicole, box them up. Amber, get me their tickets. They’ve overstayed their welcome.”

The ensuing conversation got loud. The Karens weren’t going to leave without their food getting recooked. Danielle threatened to call the police to have them removed. The Karens were angry but now were getting up, hastily grabbing purses, and threatening scathing reviews.

After they’d begrudgingly paid without tipping, they filed out of the restaurant, still hurling insults. We were finally rid of the Karens.

- - -

At the end of the night, we locked up, bid each other good night, and trudged to our respective vehicles. I was physically and mentally exhausted. Though Danielle had handled the Karens beautifully, I was still thinking about how unfairly they’d treated me.

Something caught my eye as I climbed inside my car; there was an object lying on the ground just behind my front tire. Climbing out, I knelt to find a black Moleskine notebook lying on the pavement. The cover was well-worn, and a large blue rubber band bound the whole thing together.

As I picked it up, I smiled to myself. I loved Moleskines; they made the best journals. With my new windfall clutched in my hand, I got back into my car and placed it lovingly on the seat next to me. I was able to put the Karens out my mind and instead planned my new Moleskine’s future.

- - -

It wasn’t until I got back into my car the next day to leave for work that I remembered the Moleskine still sitting on my passenger seat. I picked it up, removed the rubber band, and opened it.

What I saw did not compute. The journal was hollowed out and held hundreds of dollars also rubber-banded together. Gingerly I touched the thick stack of money, then flipped through it. It looked to be all hundreds. As if the book might bite me, I threw it into the passenger seat quickly. What if this was money was from drugs, the mafia, from trafficking or something? What if they came after me for it?

I stared at the now open Moleskine; the stack of money stared back. This was probably not money that belonged to the mafia in our small town. It was more likely to be some kid’s babysitting or lawn-mowing money. Adults put their money in the bank, not a Moleskine.

With shaking hands I counted that money. By the time I finished, there were stacks of ten one-hundred-dollar bills all over my car. Quickly I counted these, too. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized I was currently in possession of $20,000 in cash. My fumbling fingers gathered up the stacks again, wrapped them back up in the rubber band, then placed the gigantic pile in the hole created within the Moleskine. Quickly I replaced the large rubber band too, stuffed the Moleskine in my purse, and forced myself to reverse out of my driveway.

What was I going to do? Could I keep it? No. What are you thinking? This is someone’s hard-earned money. You have to turn it in. Maybe they’ll reward your honesty!

When I arrived at work, Nicole met me at the door, pulling it shut behind her. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Why not?”

“Remember the Karens from last night?”

“Of course.”

“The blonde one is inside screaming. She says she left a book on the table and you stole it. She and Danielle watched the footage and they both saw that she left no book behind, but she’s still screaming. Danielle is going to call the cops. I guess Karen has a check in it from winning a lawsuit.”

“Come here.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her to my car. “Get in.” Once we were both inside my car, I opened my purse and pointed.

Nicole leaned over and looked down inside. “Is that the book?”

“Yep.”

“Holy crap, you did find it! Let’s bring it in so she’ll leave.”

“Hold on.” I gingerly pulled the Moleskine from my purse, removed the rubber band, and opened it. “There’s $20,000 here.”

All color drained from Nicole’s face. “You’re joking!”

“I’m not. I found it under my car last night, not on the table.”

“So she cashed the lawsuit check and stuffed it in a journal,” Nicole said slowly. “How stupid is that?”

“Very stupid,” I agreed.

“Do you know what the lawsuit was about?”

I shook my head.

“I do. Danielle looked her up last night. I guess she sued her 91 year-old neighbor for falling on his porch last winter.”

“Wow,” I said, appalled. “She’s horrible!”

“She is. So, what are you going to do?”

“When I picked it up last night, I thought it was just a journal, you know? I had no idea what was in it. After I found the money, I decided to give it back to its rightful owner. I figured it was someone’s hard-earned money. But it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Nicole agreed with a smile.

“And this woman is the biggest jerk on the planet.”

“Yep. Totally agreed.”

“What if we split it in thirds? You, me, and Danielle each get like $6,500.”

Nicole’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. We’ve all had to deal with her. Do you think Danielle would go for it?”

Nicole considered this. “She’s pretty tired of her, and it’s not like you picked it up off the table. It was under your car, for God’s sake. She might go for it.”

I took a deep breath. “Alright, Nicole. You have to be my moral compass. Say the word, and I’ll walk in and hand it to her right now. Otherwise, we keep it.”

Nicole stared at the Moleskine in my hands for a long time. I held my breath, afraid that she wouldn’t want to help make the decision that I couldn’t make on my own. “Karma always comes back, doesn’t it?” She said finally. “She deserves this.”

I grinned and threw my arms around my friend. “You’re right!”

“Hide that book before we go inside. Karen will verbally abuse you before the cops get here, but we’ll get through it.”

I carefully placed the Moleskine beneath my seat, got out of the car, and waited for Nicole to do the same. We linked arms as we marched to the front door, our heads held high. Karen could berate us all she wanted, but we knew the truth. Karma had come for her.