Last Wednesday would have been my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary.
Since my grandfather, Walter, passed away two years ago, my grandmother, Doris, chose to commemorate the day by dining at the same restaurant they had visited every year.
Wearing the blouse and brooch he had once gifted her, she ordered their usual meal and left a 20% tip—the most she could spare after saving her bus fare. As she prepared to leave, her waitress, Jessica, mocked the tip loudly and made a cruel remark about her being alone, leaving my grandmother in tears.
When Grandma told me about it the next morning, I decided not to expose the incident online or cause a scene. Instead, I chose a quieter form of justice. I made a reservation under my name, specifically asking for Jessica to serve our table, and brought a friend along. We dressed elegantly, ordered a lavish dinner, and let her believe she’d be earning a generous tip.
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