When an entitled customer hurled juice in my face and humiliated me in front of everyone, she thought I’d stay silent. But I wasn’t just some girl in an apron—I had pride, and I had a family depending on me. I bit back tears, smiled through the sting, and made a decision. If she wanted a show, I’d give her one she wouldn’t forget.

I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest carrot from the fridge and fed it into the juicer with a grin. Juice sprayed everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and her pricey designer bag. Her shriek echoed through the store as she snatched it up, orange-stained and dripping. I offered my sweetest apology, barely hiding my satisfaction.

The next day, she stormed in, demanding I be fired. But our owner calmly pulled the security footage—every detail of her tantrum caught on camera. He turned to her and said, “You assaulted my employee. If anyone deserves compensation, it’s her.” With a furious glare, she stormed out for good.

Back behind the counter, my coworker gave me a high five. That night, I told my mom and sister the whole story over dinner, and we laughed until we cried. I didn’t just keep my job—I reclaimed my voice. And sometimes, the sweetest justice comes with a splash of carrot juice.