My mom was my hero—working long hours as a secretary at RSD Financial, always putting me first. She wore thrift store clothes with pride, made magic out of a modest salary, and never once complained. But one evening, I overheard her crying to Grandma. Her boss had mocked her outfit in front of colleagues, saying she looked like a joke and should be grateful to even have a job.
That broke something in me.
She’d sacrificed weekends, sleep, and comfort to give me a better life. And this man—who knew nothing of her strength—had humiliated her for it. I couldn’t let it slide.
When I learned he’d be honored at a company awards dinner, I made a plan. With help from his daughter, who’d overheard his cruel remarks too, I got hold of audio recordings of him mocking my mom. We played them through the speakers—right in the middle of his acceptance speech.
The room froze.
My mom sat stunned. Her boss turned pale. His family, seated nearby, looked horrified. The applause died, replaced by silence thick with shame.
I didn’t say much. I didn’t need to. The truth had spoken for itself.
Later, my mom hugged me tighter than ever. “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“I did,” I said. “Because you deserve respect. And now, he knows it too.”
