Being a radio host who gives dating advice doesn’t make navigating love any easier—especially when I crashed my best friend’s first date dressed as a clown. What happened that night was unexpected, and now I’m caught in a situation I never saw coming. Sometimes, life takes you where you least expect.
Once again, I found myself in Lucy’s cozy kitchen, she animatedly talked about yet another man who had caught her attention. Lucy’s love life was always buzzing with activity, unlike mine.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Finding a partner wasn’t easy for me—I didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone.
I believed it was better to wait than to settle, even if that meant coming home to my cat instead of a husband.
“He’s perfect!” Lucy said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “We’ve been texting nonstop. He’s so sweet. I think he might be different.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“So, you haven’t actually met him yet?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not yet, but we’re meeting Friday. I’m so excited. I can feel this is going to be great!” she said.
I smirked without meaning to.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
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“Nothing. It’s just… you don’t even know him yet. People can seem amazing online but be completely different in real life,” I said.
“You’re so distrustful. That’s why you don’t have a man,” Lucy replied, crossing her arms.
“I don’t have a man because men are idiots,” I said with a shrug.
“Not Mike. He’s wonderful. I think he might even be the one,” she said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Listen to your heart,” I replied. That was my go-to advice, though Lucy said it about every guy she met.
After that evening, I forgot about Mike and Lucy’s upcoming date—until Friday arrived, and I received a message from her.
There I was, dressed as a clown, surrounded by kids—my niece’s friends—because my brother had forgotten to hire an entertainer for her birthday party.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The striped clown suit was too tight, and the red wig itched like crazy. I could feel sweat dripping down my back as kids tugged at my oversized shoes and poked my sides.
“Well, you can do it,” my brother had said, as if asking me to juggle balloons and make kids laugh was no big deal.
“I’m a radio host, not an entertainer!” I snapped.
“It’s basically the same thing,” he replied with a grin.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Even though I wanted to storm out, we both knew I wouldn’t. I always stepped in for family, no matter how ridiculous the request.
As I tried to keep the kids from snatching my wig, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly checked it, careful to keep my clown nose in place.
@Lucy
When will you be free???
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@Me
About half an hour
@Lucy
I need your help!!!!
@Me
What happened??
I frowned. Lucy was on her date with Mike. Had something gone wrong?
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
@Lucy
I don’t know if Mike likes me! I need you to find out!
@Me
How am I supposed to do that?
@Lucy
You do this all the time on your radio show!
@Me
I’m in a clown costume!!!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
@Lucy
Pleaseeeeeee
@Me
Fine, but you owe me.
@Lucy
Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I sighed, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. After peeling off the kids and saying goodbye, I messaged Lucy for the location and called a cab.
When I walked into the dimly lit bar, Lucy spotted me instantly and waved enthusiastically.
I hesitated, adjusting my ridiculous clown wig as a group of strangers gave me confused looks. Taking a deep breath, I made my way to their table.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lucy beamed as I sat down. “Mike, this is Trish, my best friend,” she said.
“Nice to meet you,” Mike said. His eyes briefly flicked to my bright red nose.
“Hi,” I replied, trying to ignore how ridiculous I looked.
Lucy launched into small talk, but the conversation quickly shifted. Mike mentioned a classic movie, and I couldn’t help but jump in.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’re into old films?” I asked, intrigued.
“Big time,” Mike said, his face lighting up.
We exchanged favorite titles, diving into directors and scenes. Lucy fidgeted, looking uninterested. I tried to change topics, but Mike kept steering it back.
When Lucy excused herself, I leaned in. “So, what do you think of Lucy?” I asked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Um… I mean, she’s cute,” Mike said, glancing away like he wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Nice? Lucy is more than cute. She’s amazing,” I said, my voice firm. “She’s funny, smart, and a great cook. I go to her place for dinner sometimes because I can’t stand cooking.”
“I love cooking,” Mike said, smiling a little.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“See? You two already have something in common,” I said, trying to be encouraging. But then he looked right at me.
His eyes seemed to study mine, and for a moment, I felt something strange. It was like a spark, something unexpected. My cheeks got warm, and I quickly smiled back.
“But I don’t want to argue over who cooks dinner,” Mike said, breaking the moment. “There should only be one chef in the kitchen.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I laughed. “So, you’re the chef?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Always,” he said with a grin, and we both laughed.
Just then, Lucy returned to the table. “What’s so funny?” she asked, looking between us. “Were you talking about me?”
“Sort of,” I said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mike’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call. The moment he left, Lucy turned to me eagerly. “So? What does he think of me?”
“He thinks you’re cute,” I said carefully. “What do you think of him?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Watching you two, I feel like he’s more your type.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Pfft. What? No. What? No,” I stammered.
“Not very convincing,” she said with a smirk.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s your date,” I said firmly. “There’s a rule—never go after your friend’s guy.”
“It’s just a first date,” Lucy said with a shrug. Then she smiled. “But I’m glad you reacted like that—I think I really like him.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I smiled back, but deep down, something felt off. A tiny pang of sadness hit me, and I wasn’t sure why.
We stayed a bit longer, and I tried to shift the focus so Mike and Lucy could talk.
But every time I said something to steer the conversation, Mike directed his answers back to me. It was hard not to notice, and Lucy didn’t seem thrilled.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
When we decided to leave, Lucy headed to the restroom again, leaving me alone with Mike. The night air was cool, and I shivered a little.
“So, do you work as an entertainer?” Mike asked, his tone light.
“Why do you ask?” I replied, narrowing my eyes playfully. Then I saw him glance at my outfit, and it hit me. “Oh, no! I host a radio show. Dating advice, mostly. My niece had a birthday party, and my brother forgot to hire an entertainer.” I gestured to my clown costume with a sheepish smile.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Well, that’s bold of you,” Mike said, grinning.
“It was fine until the kids tried to tear my costume apart. They’re little savages,” I joked.
Mike laughed. “Kids can be wild. They’ve got endless energy.”
“Yeah, but they mean well,” I said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He paused. “Listen, Trish…” he began, his voice softer, but before he could finish, Lucy appeared.
“Want to walk me home?” she asked him brightly. “I live close by.”
“Of course,” Mike said, stepping toward her.
He turned back to me, and we both hesitated. He went for a hug while I offered a handshake, and we ended up with an awkward high five.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It made us laugh, but as they walked away, I felt something strange, a little twist in my chest.
The next few days passed quietly. Lucy didn’t say much about Mike, which was unusual for her.
She only mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to come up to her apartment after their date.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She shrugged it off, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled. I didn’t press her for details.
One morning, as I was sipping my coffee, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
@Unknown
Hey 🙂 It’s Mike. I know this is weird, but would you like to meet up sometime?
I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
@Me
How did you get my number?
@Unknown
Secret 😉 So, what do you think?
I frowned, trying to steady my thoughts.
@Me
Sorry, I don’t go on dates with men my friends like.
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@Unknown
Lucy and I only had one date. But I haven’t felt a connection like this in years—with anyone. Not until I met you.
My chest tightened. I stared at the words longer than I should have.
@Me
Sorry, but no.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I set my phone down. Saying no felt like the right thing, but his words lingered, leaving a knot I couldn’t untangle.
I tried to shake it off and focus on work. During my radio show, I put on my usual cheerful voice, pretending my own heart wasn’t a mess.
“Hi, this is Trish. How can I help with your love troubles?” I said, wishing someone could help with mine.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” a man’s voice said, calm and familiar. “I don’t date much. It’s hard for me to find a connection with someone. But recently, I went on a date with one woman. Her friend showed up in a clown costume. And, well, with the friend, I felt something I haven’t felt in years—maybe ever.”
I froze. My heart skipped a beat. It was Mike.
“But she won’t go out with me. She says it’s wrong. I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I really like her.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My mouth went dry. “Maybe you should listen to her and let it go,” I managed, my voice unsteady.
“She’s unforgettable. The kind of person who stays with you for a lifetime,” he said softly.
I smiled, caught off guard. “You probably just think that because she was wearing a clown costume,” I said, my tone lighter.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’d remember her no matter what she wore,” he replied without hesitation. “So, will this girl go out with me?”
I hesitated, feeling torn. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I said quietly.
Before I could say more, my producer buzzed in. “Take the next call—it’s important,” she said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I switched lines. “Go out with him! You have my blessing!” Lucy yelled through the line. I blinked, stunned. “Finally, a guy you like!”
“But you like him,” I stammered, realizing we were still live.
“Not really. He likes you,” Lucy said.
“It’s not right,” I protested weakly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Forget right or wrong. Listen to your heart. You always say that to others. Take your own advice for once,” Lucy urged.
“So, what do you say?” Mike’s voice came back, gentle but insistent. “Her friend gave her blessing.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I sighed, my walls crumbling. “Yes,” I whispered.
The sound engineer played an applause track, and I couldn’t help but laugh. My face burned as I blushed, feeling completely exposed—but strangely happy.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Attending my daughter’s wedding was supposed to be a joyful moment, but facing my ex-husband and his new wife turned everything upside down. Old wounds resurfaced, and new betrayals came to light. I thought I’d left the past behind, but this trip forced me to confront truths I wasn’t ready to face.
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Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
When a devoted hotel maid is tormented by a wealthy and arrogant guest, she devises a plan that turns the tables in the most unexpected way. Instead of seeking revenge with anger, she orchestrates a quiet but powerful act of defiance that forces the cruel woman to face the bitter consequences of her actions.
Woman cleaning a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother has always been a source of inspiration for me. As a maid at a fancy local hotel, she takes immense pride in her work. She treats every room as if it were her own, ensuring everything is spotless and welcoming for the guests.
Recently, however, she had an encounter that tested her patience like never before. It all started on a seemingly ordinary day. My mother was assigned to clean room 256, which was occupied by a young woman named Ms. Johnson.
Woman in uniform beside hotel room bed | Source: Pexels
From the moment she stepped into the room, my mother could sense the woman’s dislike for her. Ms. Johnson lounged on the bed, scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging my mother’s presence.
As my mother meticulously cleaned the room, making sure every surface was spotless, Ms. Johnson suddenly knocked her coffee cup off the table, sending dark liquid spilling onto the freshly mopped floor. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she looked my mother straight in the eye and sneered, “Clean that up!”
Coffee mug falling | Source: Pexels
My mother’s heart sank. She had worked so hard to make the room perfect, only to see her efforts so carelessly undone. But she knew she couldn’t afford to lose her job. It provided her with a sense of independence and stability for our family.
A person vacuuming a rug | Source: Pexels
Swallowing her pride, she silently cleaned the floor again, all while feeling Ms. Johnson’s piercing gaze on her. As she worked, the woman laughed. The mocking giggle echoed through the room. “Well done for a maid. You didn’t even talk back to me,” she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tomorrow, I’ll come up with something more interesting for you.”
Woman standing near table with pastries | Source: Pexels
My mother finished her task, holding back tears. She knew showing any sign of distress would only give the woman more satisfaction. That night, as she recounted the story to me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. But there was also a spark of determination. She wasn’t going to let this entitled guest break her spirit.
Mother and daughter sitting at the table holding hands | Source: Pexels
The next day, my mother went to work with a plan. She knew Ms. Johnson would try to humiliate her again, but this time, she was ready. She was determined to show this woman that kindness and respect were not weaknesses and that underestimating the resolve of someone who works with dignity and pride was a grave mistake.
Woman holding a plastic basin with cleaning materials | Source: Pexels
Around mid-morning, my mother walked into room 256 with a steely determination. She had a plan. Sure enough, there she was, Ms. Johnson, reclining on the bed, her smirk already in place.
“Oh, look who’s back,” Ms. Johnson said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s see what mess I can make for you today.” She reached for her coffee cup, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Woman leaning on handrail in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother kept her composure. She knew what to expect. Without a word, she began her cleaning routine, methodically and efficiently, refusing to rise to the bait. As she moved around the room, she noticed something important: Ms. Johnson’s laptop was left open on the table, the screen glowing with unattended work.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” my mother said in her most polite tone. “I need to dust the table. Would you mind closing your laptop?”
Person using phone with laptop on desk | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered, snapping the laptop shut and placing it to the side with an exaggerated sigh. “But hurry up. I have important work to do.”
“Of course, ma’am,” my mother replied, her voice steady.
Woman relaxing in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“You’re slower than yesterday,” Ms. Johnson remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do they not teach speed in maid school?” My mother ignored the jab, focusing on her task.
Ms. Johnson’s impatience was palpable, and she drummed her fingers on the bedside table. “Done yet?” Ms. Johnson snapped.
Woman tiding up a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“Almost, ma’am,” my mother replied calmly.
Just then, the door opened, and Mr. Ramirez, the hotel manager, appeared. He glanced around the room, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Good morning, Ms. Johnson,” he greeted her warmly.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”
Hotel manager entering a room | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson scoffed. “It’s fine. Your maid here is just clumsy and slow.”
Mr. Ramirez frowned slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Our staff is trained to provide excellent service.”
“Well, maybe she needs more training,” Ms. Johnson said, casting a disdainful look at my mother.
Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, concern evident in his eyes. “Mrs. Adams, is there a problem?”
My mother met his gaze with her calm and professional demeanor. “No, Mr. Ramirez. Everything is under control.”
A chambermaid holding a stack of towels | Source: Pexels
Mr. Ramirez nodded, though his concern lingered. “Ms. Johnson, I assure you, we will make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible.”
Ms. Johnson waved dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t break anything.”
Mr. Ramirez gave my mother an encouraging smile before leaving. As the door closed behind him, my mother felt a surge of quiet confidence. She was ready for whatever Ms. Johnson had in store next.
Woman fixing pillows on the bed | Source: Pexels
My mother continued her work, but she had one more trick up her sleeve. She knew Ms. Johnson would never learn unless she experienced a bit of discomfort herself.
As she finished cleaning, my mother subtly dropped a small, harmless but unpleasant-smelling packet under the bed. It was a trick she had learned from an old colleague, a mixture that would release a gradually intensifying odor over time. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, but within a few hours, it would become quite bothersome.
A tidy hotel room | Source: Pexels
“All done, ma’am,” my mother said standing up and gathering her cleaning supplies. “Have a pleasant day.”
The next morning, my mother arrived at work and was immediately greeted by the sight of Ms. Johnson in the lobby, furiously arguing with Mr. Ramirez. Her face was flushed with anger, and her voice carried through the lobby.
Man and woman standing in a hotel lobby | Source: Pexels’
“I can’t stay in that room! It smells awful! How can you expect guests to stay in such conditions?” Ms. Johnson was practically shouting, drawing the attention of other guests and staff members.
Mr. Ramirez, ever the professional, maintained his calm demeanor. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Johnson. We take such matters very seriously. We’ll investigate the cause of the smell immediately and move you to another room in the meantime.”
Two people standing at a hotel entrance | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson, still fuming, stormed off, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, who had been quietly watching the scene unfold.
“Mrs. Adams, could you please check Ms. Johnson’s room and see if you can find the source of the smell?” he asked, his voice calm but concerned. “Of course,” my mother replied, hiding a smile. She headed to room 256, her heart pounding with satisfaction.
A clean hotel room | Source: Unsplash
Inside the room, my mother quickly found the packet she had placed under the bed and discreetly removed it. She then opened the windows and turned on the fan, allowing fresh air to circulate and clear the odor. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a small surge of triumph. Ms. Johnson had finally tasted a bit of her own medicine.
Woman carrying a stack of towers | Source: Pexels’
As she left the room, she ran into Mr. Ramirez in the hallway. “Did you find the source of the smell?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Ramirez,” my mother replied. “It seems something had been left under the bed. I’ve removed it and aired out the room. It should be fine now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Adams,” Mr. Ramirez said, a hint of relief in his voice. “You’ve done an excellent job, as always.”
Hotel worker doing room service | Source: Pexels
My mother nodded and continued with her day, knowing that sometimes, justice is served in the smallest of actions. But that wasn’t enough. My mom had one more lesson to teach Ms. Johnson.
The next day, she was assigned to help move Ms. Johnson’s belongings to another room. As usual, Mom did her job efficiently, ensuring every item was carefully placed in the new room.
Delivery man holding a cardboard box | Source: Pexels
Later that afternoon, a courier arrived with a package for room 256; Ms. Johnson’s previous room. Aware that Ms. Johnson had moved to room 312, Mom saw this as her chance to deliver a delayed but impactful lesson.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the courier, stepping forward with a polite smile. “The guest in room 256 has been moved to room 312. You can leave the package at the front desk, and I will ensure it gets to her.” The courier nodded, handing over the package. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” he said, already turning to leave.
A person holding a package | Source: Pexels
My mother took the package to the front desk and, with a smile, placed it in the corner behind some other deliveries, making sure it would not be found immediately.
The next day, Ms. Johnson was in a frenzy. She was preparing for her flight and an important event later that evening. Suddenly, she realized something crucial was missing. She frantically called the front desk, her voice shaking with panic.
An angry woman in aa grey tank top | Source: Pexels
“I had a package delivered to room 256. Where is it? It has my plane tickets and my dress for tonight’s event!” Ms. Johnson’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation.
The front desk clerk, taken aback by her intensity, quickly checked the records. After some confusion and a hurried search, they found the package tucked away in the corner. The clerk immediately called my mother to deliver it to Ms. Johnson’s new room, 312.
Receptionist making a phone call | Source: Pexels
My mother, with a calm and measured pace, made her way to the room. She knocked on Ms. Johnson’s door, her expression serene. The woman yanked the door open, her eyes wide with anxiety. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for that package!” she snapped.
“Here is your package, ma’am. It was delivered to the wrong room,” my mother said sweetly, holding out the package.
A person holding a brown box | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson snatched the package from her hands and ripped it open. Her face fell as she realized the delay had cost her dearly. The tickets were now useless, and she had no time to prepare for her event. Frustration and defeat were etched into her features. She could only muster a weak, “Thanks,” before slamming the door in my mother’s face.
Mom walked away, a slight smile playing on her lips. She knew she had given Ms. Johnson a taste of her own medicine, all without stepping outside the bounds of her duties. It was a quiet victory, but a deeply satisfying one.
Woman standing under a chandelier of a hotel room | Source: Pexels
When my mother told me about the incident later, I could see the relief in her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “the best revenge is simply letting people experience the consequences of their own actions.”
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