I Offered My Sister a Job, but What She Did Next Earned Her a Dose of Karma She Never Saw Coming – Story of the Day

I offered my younger sister a simple job in my shop, thinking it might finally teach her responsibility. I never imagined that decision would trigger a chain of events that left me reeling. Shocked and furious, I made a desperate move to teach her a lesson.

I was hunched over Mrs. Peterson's dress, pinning the hemline just right, when the bell above my door chimed.

I'd been expecting Mrs. Peterson back for her final fitting, but when I looked up, there was Ashley instead.

My younger sister stood in the doorway, her perfectly blown-out hair catching the light. She wore a pricey designer crop top and jeans that probably had their own Instagram account.

"Maya!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "I've finally decided. I'm ready to grow up."

I set down my pins carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I want a job. Here, with you." She gestured around my boutique. "All my friends have jobs now, and honestly, I'd look so cute behind that counter. Think of the Instagram content. Me working in fashion? It's a perfect fit, pun intended."

My shoulders tensed. "Ashley, this isn't a photo studio. It's a business."

"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "But it's also super trendy. Madison works at that boutique downtown, and her follower count has doubled. Plus, she gets first dibs on all the cute stuff."

Typical Ashley. She didn't want to work so she could be independent; she just saw it as a way to slap a "girlboss" hashtag on her posts.

I thought about how I'd learned to sew sitting cross-legged on Grandma's kitchen floor, and how I'd worked double shifts by day and sewed by night to get to where I was.

I'd slaved over my sewing machine for years to build up a client base, and saved every penny to put down a deposit on this little space.

But Ashley had been spoiled rotten. She was born when I was eight, and Mom and Dad called her their "caboose baby" and treated her like the most precious thing in the world.

While I was learning the value of a dollar, Ashley was learning how to bat her eyelashes to get whatever she wanted.

"Maya? Hello?" Ashley waved her manicured hand in front of my face. "I said, what do you think? I'd need my own space for styling and content creation. And obviously I'd need access to the good pieces for my posts."

And that was the moment I decided my sister was right. It was time she grew up, and doing some real work would help her learn what the real world was like.

"Okay," I said. "But if you work here, you'll be doing inventory, cleaning, and register duty. You start at the bottom and work your way up. No special treatment, and no photo shoots."

Ashley wrinkled her nose. "But Maya, I could bring in so many new customers from my Instagram."

"Take it or leave it, Ashley. I heard the takeout down the road is hiring…"

"Ew." Ashley pulled a face. "Fine, I'll take the job. Working in fashion is going to be so amazing! You'll see, I'm going to help turn this place into a goldmine!"

I sighed as I watched her sashay out of the store. She wasn't taking this seriously at all.

That's when I had a brilliant idea. I pulled out my phone and messaged someone who'd be more than a match for Ashley, and asked him to pop by the next day, just in case I needed backup.

The next morning, I walked up to my shop and got the fright of my life.

There were two men on ladders above my door, installing a new sign that said "Maya & Ashley's Threads."

"Excuse me!" I called to them. "What are you doing?"

The worker closest to me paused his drilling. "Installing the new sign, ma'am. Rush job. The new co-owner told us to get here early."

He pointed toward my door. "She's inside. Paid extra for morning installation."

I've never moved so fast in my life. I burst through the door, and there was Ashley, dragging one of my carefully positioned mannequins across the floor.

"Ugh, this display is so tragic," she was saying to herself, tossing the mannequin's carefully chosen outfit onto the counter. "I'm fixing the aesthetic immediately. This color palette screams 2019."

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

Ashley smiled brightly. "Revamping! Don't you love it? I already talked to Mom and Dad, and they agreed to invest. So now I'm a co-owner! Isn't that exciting?"

"You what?"

"I explained how we're going to modernize everything to bring in younger customers. Mom was so proud that I'm finally taking initiative in business."

"I offered you a job, Ashley. A job. Not ownership."

She shrugged, already turning back to rearrange my window display. "But this makes so much more sense. I've got vision, Maya. And Mom and Dad totally agree that this is the right move. They said it's time this place reached its full potential."

"Reached its full potential?" I repeated, my voice getting higher. "Ashley, I've been building this business for five years!"

"And now we can take it to the next level together! Think about it: my social media reach, your sewing skills. We're like the perfect team."

"If you want to own a business, then you have to buy into it," I said. "You have to earn it."

Ashley laughed. "But I already did! New sign, new fixtures coming this afternoon. Mom and Dad are handling all the paperwork. Oh, and I ordered new business cards."

"You can't do this!" I shouted.

She turned to face me, and for the first time, I saw something cold in her expression.

"Why not?" she said. "It's not like you were doing anything revolutionary here. Sometimes businesses need fresh blood."

Before I could answer, my backup arrived. Jason walked in wearing one of his signature vintage blazers. He was my best customer, a designer who'd been buying fabric through me for two years.

He stopped short when he saw Ashley's chaos.

"Well," he said, removing his sunglasses, "I see someone's going for the 'yard sale chic' look."

Ashley whirled around, bristling. "Excuse me? This is curated. I'm creating visual flow and contemporary appeal."

Jason raised one eyebrow and turned to me. "Maya, what's happening here? This can't be the new hire you told me about."

"Co-owner," Ashley snapped before I could respond.

"Ashley, I told you that you're not a co-owner," I snapped.

I grabbed a notepad from behind the register and started scribbling numbers, my hand shaking with rage and determination. When I was done, I shoved the paper at Ashley.

"If you want to own half of this place, this is the buy-in price."

Ashley's eyes went wide as she read the figure. "You're insane! You expect me to pay that? After everything I've already put in?"

"Everything you've put in?" I laughed bitterly. "Ashley, you've been here one day and you've destroyed my displays."

"I've invested in signage and marketing materials!"

"With Mom and Dad's money!"

Jason took the note from Ashley, read it, and let out a low whistle. "Honestly? That's a steal. Maya, if she won't take it, I will."

I turned to Jason, shocked. He winked at me. I realized he was baiting Ashley, and it was working.

"I've been looking for a permanent space to showcase my clothing line," he continued airily. "And merging our client lists would be a genius move."

Ashley stepped between us. "Hold on. You can't just sell to some random guy."

"Random?" Jason laughed. "I've been working with Maya for two years. I probably know this inventory better than you do."

"But I'm family."

"Family with zero taste," Jason pointed out.

Ashley's jaw dropped. "This is ridiculous! I'm calling Mom and Dad right now. I will not stand for this!"

Ashley stormed outside, phone in hand. The moment the door shut, Jason burst out laughing.

"The look on her face!" he exclaimed. "I was only riling her up, but I would absolutely go through with this deal just to teach Little Miss Diva a lesson."

"Please do," I replied. "You and I would genuinely make a great team, and if I know Ashley, she won't stop until someone brings her down to earth. Nothing I say gets through to her, but maybe you'll have better luck."

Jason hummed thoughtfully. "I really do want a place to sell my more mainstream work… okay. I'll buy a partnership in your business and teach your sister a lesson. Deal?"

I shook his hand. "Deal!"

The next morning, yet another new sign hung over my shop. This one read "Maya & Jason Studio."

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, where Jason was already lounging behind the counter, looking perfectly at home.

Before I could even greet him, Ashley stormed in.

"I didn't agree to sell anything!" she shouted. "All you did was sell your share, Maya. I'm keeping mine."

Jason looked up from the fashion magazine he was flipping through.

"Sweetheart," he said, "you never actually had a share to begin with. But hey, I'm willing to let you prove yourself if you think you can keep up."

"What do you mean?" Ashley demanded.

Jason stood up, straightening his blazer. "Well, every successful business owner knows their operation inside and out. So let's start with the basics."

Jason pointed toward the back. "Bathroom's that way. Mop's in the closet. Every real business starts with clean floors."

Ashley's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious," Jason said, folding his arms.

Muttering under her breath, Ashley stomped off. A minute later came the sound of sloshing water, followed by a shriek.

She reappeared with a wet streak across her designer blouse.

"This is disgusting," she spat.

"Fantastic," Jason said lightly. "Now the fabric bolts. All 36 need to go into the stockroom."

Ashley glared, but bent to drag one. Within minutes, she was red-faced, sweat dripping down her temples. By the last bolt, she nearly collapsed on the stack, gasping like she'd run a marathon.

"Good effort," Jason said with mock encouragement. "Time for inventory!"

Ashley blinked. "Inventory?"

"You need to count every spool, zipper, and button," Jason said.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by bins, counting in a whiny monotone. At 72 buttons, she lost her place and screamed, kicking the container so plastic disks skittered across the floor.

Jason just smiled. "Customer service, then. Let's see those people skills."

Ashley plastered on a grin so wide it looked painful.

When a shopper walked in, she chirped, "Welcome!" in a sing-song voice, then fumbled the register until the customer backed out the door.

"This is ridiculous!" she exploded.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "We haven't even gotten to the quiz. What's our scarf markup? Or our Sunday hours?"

Ashley froze, mouth opening and closing.

I stepped forward. "Ashley, owning a business means knowing every detail and doing the dirty work, too. If you can't handle that, you don't belong here."

Her cheeks blazing, Ashley snatched her purse and stormed out. "You're both insane! I'm supposed to be an owner, not a janitor!"

"Owners do whatever needs doing," I called after her.

"I'm done with both of you!"

The bell chimed one last time as the door slammed shut behind her.

Jason and I stood there in the sudden quiet, looking at each other. Then he started laughing, and I couldn't help but join in.

"Think she'll be back?" he asked, settling back behind the counter.

I shook my head, already reaching for my sewing kit. Mrs. Peterson's dress still needed finishing, and Jason had sketches to review for his new line.

"Not a chance," I said. "She'll probably try to convince Mom and Dad to fund some other 'vision' by next week."

"Pity. I was planning on making her the tackiest uniform ever. Oh well, back to work," Jason said, pulling out his tablet. "I've got three new designs I want to run by you. And I'm thinking we should add weekend sewing workshops to the schedule."

Three months later, Maya & Jason Studio is thriving. Our customer base has doubled, and last month we had our first five-figure sales day.

And I was right about Ashley. Last I heard from Mom, she was trying to convince our parents to fund a lifestyle blog about "authentic living and finding your true self," which apparently required traveling around the world and staying in five-star hotels.

Some people never learn.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I felt uneasy the day my daughter walked in with a girl who looked exactly like her. But when my husband came home early, took one look at that child, and turned white as a sheet, I knew this was more than a coincidence. Read the full story here.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.