Karma In A Little Brown Package

It was 10:00 a.m when I pulled into the busy parking lot. I sighed as I scanned the perimeter and sipped on my coffee. There must have been one hundred cars packed into the small locality of the motel. I had been cleaning rooms at the establishment for the past five years.

Much like a waitress, I didn’t even make minimum wage; a large part of my income relied on generous tips left by guests. You would think that having a full house meant the possibility of going home with some decent money in my pocket. “I should be thankful right?” Actually, it was just the contrary. All of those people meant big, despicable messes for me to clean up. Motel guests can be so rude and spiteful sometimes.

Don’t take me wrong, I have met some beautiful and wonderful people. I have also met more than enough scoundrelly and rancorous people. Every morning was like rolling a dice, I never really knew what’s going to come up.

I looked down at my raw, tender hands. All of the chemicals that I clean with had really flawed them. Even wearing rubber gloves wasn’t enough to protect my skin from the damaging irritants. I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I thought about the events that had taken place at home just moments ago. My three-year-old son was crying and begging me to stay home. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw him standing in the doorway beside my husband crying. His little lips trembled as he waved his tiny hand regretfully. Driving away was the hardest thing that I had ever done.

Being a stay-at-home mom was just not possible for me. We had way too many expenses and bills to pay. My husband’s income alone just wasn’t enough to get by on. Jobs are extremely hard to find in a small town. I had put in applications all over town and the motel was the only one that responded. Sometimes I work 12-14 hours a day and barely make $30 in tips. There have even been days when I didn’t receive one single tip. Those are the days that make me want to give up and go home. I just close my eyes and picture my son's beautiful little face and I find the spirit to push onward.

I loaded my cleaning cart up with fresh towels, toilet paper, and various cleaners and made my way out onto the hot pavement. I loathed the sound of the metal wheels scraping over the asphalt. I fumbled with my set of room keys as I approached the first mission on my list. When I opened the door the smell of stale pizza and cigarette smoke filled my nostrils. I immediately reached for the deodorizer as I tossed can after can into a plastic garbage bag. The bed smelled of urine as I stripped the sheets and blankets off. There had obviously been a large dog in the room, evident by the dog hair all over the furniture and the shredded cushions.

Management usually granted us 30 minutes to clean each room; They'd get snappy and grouchy if it took much longer. This was a real stinker of a room and I knew that I would not finish in my allotted amount of time. I glanced at the tip envelope laying on the dresser. I smiled when I noticed that there was something inside of it. I felt my stomach growl with hunger and appreciated the possibility of having a decent tip that I could buy lunch with. Although gathering my tip was the very last thing that I'd do before exiting the room, I couldn’t help but have a quick peek. There was a letter inside, I carefully opened it expecting to find a few dollars tucked inside.

I stood there with tears in my eyes as I read the words written on the stained paper. How could anyone be so mean and ugly? Not only was the room a complete disaster, but they had also to taken the time to rub salt into my wounds.

I found myself down on my hands and knees vigorously scrubbing a large stain on the carpet. I nervously looked at my watch, I had already been in there for 45 minutes. I knew that at any moment the boss lady was going to come through the door questioning me. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. That’s when I noticed a suspicious package wrapped in brown paper lying beneath the bed.

I crawled across the floor and reached for the package. It felt extremely light, I would have guessed that it was simply trash but I noticed that it had been tightly sealed with tape. I placed it on my cart to turn into the lost and found and hurried on to my next room.

It was 7:00 p.m by the time that my day was finished. I tried not to cry as I counted my tips $5.43, all in coins. I couldn’t even stop and buy dinner with what I had accumulated. I was exhausted and overwhelmed by the events of the day. It had been one of the hardest and most unsatisfying days that I had ever worked through.

When I finally arrived home, I sat in the car trying to compose myself before going inside to my husband and son. No matter how bad that my day had been, I wanted to present myself as positively as possible. I gasped when I looked into my bag and noticed that I had brought the package home with me. I held it in my hand staring at it as I recalled the horrible, hurtful note that had been left for me. I decided to open it after all nobody knew that I had even found it. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

As I peeled away the brown paper, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I looked around to make sure that nobody was watching as I began counting the money inside. $100, $500, $1,000. There was $225,000 stuffed inside of the brown package along with a lottery ticket and some official legal papers. The person who didn’t leave me a tip, but took the time to leave that humiliating note had won the lottery. I was holding their winnings in my hand!

I felt like I had just robbed a bank, my mind was racing and my body was trembling. “Should I take it back to the motel?” If nobody claimed it then the manager would put it in their pocket. I had seen it happen many times before.

“What if the person who lost it came back to the motel looking for it?” I’d simply say that I had not found it. Besides the room had already been rented to another occupant. There was something else that suddenly caught my attention. I had brought that nasty note home with me. I picked it up and read it over again and again.

I braced myself as I stepped out of the car. It took every ounce of discipline that I had not to take off running through the door screaming. As I entered the house, I saw my husband and son laying on the sofa asleep. I stopped and looked at them, they were so peaceful and calm laying there lost in their dreams. I carefully nudged my husband and watched as he squinted his eyes. My son raised up “mommy” he sleepily yawned as he wrapped his little arms around my waist.

That was the last day that I worked cleaning rooms at the motel. From that day forward I was a stay-at-home mom. I watched my son grow. I took him to his first day of school and watched his first ballgame. I was there to cuddle and hold him when he was sick and I tucked him into bed every night. We paid our house off and never had to worry about having a home ever again. I finally went to the dermatologist and got my hands properly healed and repaired and my son now has a college fund waiting for him.

Nobody ever claimed the lost package, at least not that I was ever aware of. I often wonder if that person had not been in such a hurry to write that note, would they have known that they dropped their package? Then I smile and remember what my mother always told me. “Karma takes care of everything in the end.” I still have that note, one day I will show it to my son and hopefully, he will learn the valuable lesson of this story.