I was at a pricey restaurant when I recognised my former boss among the wait staff.
Emily, are you free Saturday night? Claire asked over the phone. I want to introduce you to someone. Business dinner at a nice place.
Sarah adjusted her glasses and set aside the papers shed been working on.
What do you mean introduce? she replied. I told you Im not looking for anyone.
Not that kind of introduction, Claire laughed. Its a business partner. Hes searching for a sharp accountant for his new firm. The salarys generous, the conditions excellent. You were the first person I thought of.
Sarah hesitated. Her current job was stable, but the offer sounded tempting.
What restaurant? she asked.
The Crown on Oxford Street. You heard of it?
Sarah whistled. The Crown was one of the citys most expensive and prestigious eateries. The average bill started at about fifty pounds per person.
Sounds lavish, she said. Alright, Ill come. What time?
Seven oclock. Dress smart; the clientele is rather upscale.
After hanging up, Sarah stared at her reflection. The mirror showed a woman in her early fifties, greytinged hair, fine lines around the eyes, a weary face nothing surprising after three decades as an accountant.
Saturday night, she spent a long time picking an outfit. She settled on a darkblue dress shed bought for her companys anniversary, light makeup, modest jewellery, and slipped into a cab bound for the restaurant.
The Crown greeted her with the soft glow of crystal chandeliers and muted music. At the entrance a porter in a crisp uniform ceremoniously swung the doors open.
Welcome, he said with a slight bow.
Inside, marble columns, velvet armchairs, and gildedframe paintings dazzled her. It was a world she wasnt used to, and a hint of discomfort crept in.
Do you have a reservation? asked a sternlooking administrator in a tailored suit.
Yes, under the name Peterson, Sarah replied.
One moment, please, the administrator scanned a list. Table seven by the window is ready. Follow me.
They walked past a sea of impeccably dressed patrons. Claire was already seated with a middleaged gentleman.
Sarah! Claire stood up. Finally! Meet Victor Graham. Victor, this is Sarah Peterson, the accountant I mentioned.
Victor was pleasant, chatting about his business and asking about Sarahs experience. The conversation flowed, and Sarah could already picture herself in the new role.
Lets order first, then continue, Victor suggested, raising his hand for the waiter.
A woman in a black servers uniform approached the table. Sarah glanced at the menu, then froze.
It was Irene Watson. Her former boss.
The same woman who, seven years earlier, had turned Sarahs life into a nightmarewho berated her in front of colleagues, nitpicked every detail, and forced her to redo reports countless times. The woman who drove Sarah to a nervous breakdown, after which she quit and spent six months recuperating.
Irenes eyes went pale, her hands trembled as she clutched the order pad.
Good evening, Irene murmured, her voice barely steady. What would you like?
Claire and Victor were absorbed in the menu, oblivious to the tension. Sarah stared at her former tormentor, unable to believe her eyes.
Irene looked older than she was, her onceimposing demeanor now reduced to a tired, gaunt appearance. The expensive suit shed once worn was replaced by a modest servers uniform. The confidence that had bordered on arrogance had vanished.
What have you decided, Ms. Peterson? Victor asked.
Uh, yes, of course, Sarah recovered. Ill have the Caesar salad and grilled salmon.
Irene wrote down the order, her hand shaking so badly the letters smeared across the paper. Sarah watched her struggle to maintain professional composure.
Anything else? Irene asked quietly, not looking up.
Thatll be all for now, Victor replied. Could we start with water and a glass of wine? He pointed to the wine list.
Irene nodded and hurried away. Sarah watched her retreat, a wave of conflicting feelings risingschadenfreude? pity? satisfaction?
You look a bit pale, Claire observed. Everything alright?
Just a little tired, Sarah said with a strained smile. Nothing to worry about.
The conversation continued, but Sarah barely heard it. Her thoughts drifted back to her first day at the old firm. Irene had greeted her coldly, scanning her from head to toe.
Alright, newcomer, shed said then. Theres no room for slackers here. Youll work hard, and I wont tolerate mistakes. Got that?
Sarah had nodded, assuming strictness. It soon became clear it was outright tyranny. A report submitted five minutes late earned a scolding; a misplaced comma required a complete rewrite. Once Sarah was ten minutes late because of traffic, Irene publicly berated her in front of the whole department.
You think Ill believe your excuses about traffic? shed shouted. Irresponsible! Incompetent! If this continues, youll find yourself elsewhere!
Colleagues lowered their eyes; no one dared challenge her. The most painful part was that Irenes humiliations werent always about workthey were ways to assert her own power, often slurring remarks like, Half my team are useless, in front of clients.
Sarah endured it. The salary was decent, and she needed the job, but each day grew harder. Sleep suffered, headaches appeared, blood pressure spiked.
Then came the quarterend report shed laboured over for two weeks. Shed checked it repeatedly; everything was flawless. Yet Irene spotted a trivial errora fivepound discrepancy.
What is this?! the boss roared, slamming the folder on the desk. Do you even know what youre doing? Errors like this cost the company! Fix it now and have it on my desk within the hour!
Something snapped inside Sarah. She stood, looked Irene in the eye, and said quietly,
Im resigning. Right now. Put it in writing; Ill leave today.
Irene was visibly shocked.
Its you cant
Im leaving, Sarah repeated, firmer. And you know what? In all these years you never offered a word of praise, never a kind commentonly humiliation. I wont stand for it any longer.
She packed her things and walked out. That same day she suffered a hypertensive crisis and was rushed to hospital. Doctors diagnosed severe stressinduced exhaustion and prescribed complete rest.
For six months Sarah couldnt work. She recovered slowly, relearned how to enjoy life, and eventually secured a position at a small, friendly firm where the manager treated staff with respect.
Life steadied. Years passed, and Sarah eventually forgave Irenenot for Irenes sake, but to free herself from lingering bitterness. Yet the memory lingered.
Now fate reunited them, but the circumstances were entirely different.
Irene returned to the table, tray in hand, setting glasses, pouring water, uncorking a bottle of wine. Her hands trembled, almost dropping the corkscrew.
Everything alright? Victor asked kindly.
Yes, sorry, Irene whispered, cheeks flushing. Ill get it right.
She poured the wine and hurried away. Sarah watched her leave, remembering the woman whod once ruled the office with an iron fist now reduced to a nervous server. How did the oncedreaded boss end up here?
The dinner continuedsalads, mains, dessert. Each time Irene passed by, she avoided eye contact, desperate to finish her shift and disappear.
Victor discussed the job terms between courses. The salary was indeed attractivefar higher than Sarahs current pay. A solid benefits package, bonuses, paid leaveall sounded tempting.
So, what do you think, Sarah? he asked as they finished coffee. Ready to give it a go?
I need to think it over, Sarah replied. Its a serious decision; I dont want to rush.
Take a week, Victor said, sliding her his card across the table. Call when youve decided.
Claire smiled, clearly hoping Sarah would accept.
When the bill arrived, Sarah glanced at the totalaround £150. Victor settled it, and they exchanged goodbyes, promising to stay in touch.
Claire left in a cab, Victor walked to his car, and Sarah lingered, claiming she wanted a short walk. She stepped out onto the street, then reentered through a side service entrance shed spotted earlier. A guard gave her a puzzled look.
I left my scarf in the cloakroom, she lied. May I get through?
Talk to the concierge, the guard advised.
But Sarah slipped inside anyway, following a corridor to a door labelled Staff. She pushed it open and found the staff break room. On a chair sat Irene, clutching a handkerchief and quietly sobbing.
Irene? Sarah called softly.
Startled, Irene lifted her head, wiped her tears, and tried to stand.
Sarah I Im sorry, she stammered.
Sit down, Sarah said, holding the door. No need to get up.
Irene sank back into the chair, eyes rimmed with red, shoulders hunched.
I didnt want you to see me like this, she whispered. Its humiliating.
What happened? How did you end up here? Sarah asked, taking a seat opposite her.
Irene hesitated, then spoke slowly.
After you left, I kept working. Then an audit uncovered that the companys director had been embezzling, using my signature and seals without my knowledge. I was blindsidedtoo busy bullying staff to notice. The police opened a case, the director fled abroad, and I was tagged as an accomplice. I got a conditional sentence and a ban on any managerial role.
Did you know? Sarah asked.
I swear I didnt! Irenes eyes finally met Sarahs. But who believed me? Everyone assumed I was part of it. My husband left, saying he couldnt live with a criminal. He took the house and the car, leaving me with nothing.
Sarah listened, a mix of vindication and compassion stirring inside her. She felt a pang of schadenfreudekarma had caught upbut also genuine sorrow for the woman before her.
Ive been looking for work, Irene said, voice trembling. With a criminal record, even a conditional one, no one hires me. I cant take a senior role; theyd think Im overqualified for a junior post. I spent six months unemployed, staying with a friend, until I found this restaurant job.
She broke down again, and Sarah handed her a napkin.
Why were you so harsh? Sarah asked quietly. Why act that way?
I dont know, Irene admitted. Probably to compensate for my own insecurities. At home my husband treated me like a servant, never respected me. At work I vented my anger, feeling powerful when I could command others. Foolish, isnt it?
Very foolish, Sarah agreed. And cruel.
I get it now, Irene said. Im on the other side now, the one being looked down upon. A patron told me Im too old to be a waiter, that I should retire. I smile and nod because I cant argue. I need this job.
Sarah glanced at Irenes cramped flat, her tired eyes, and recalled her own desperate self seven years ago, forced to endure humiliation for the sake of a paycheck. The circle had closed.
Did you come here just to look at me? Irene asked. To relish my fall?
No, Sarah shook her head. I came to talk.
You should hate me, Irene said, bewildered.
I stopped hating you a long time ago, Sarah sighed. Bitterness only corrodes you. I forgave younot for you, but for myself. Holding onto anger does nothing for anyone.
Irene sobbed again, this time softer.
Thank you, she whispered. Thank you.
They sat in silence as the restaurants soft music and clinking dishes filled the background.
How much do you earn here? Sarah asked.
Twenty pounds a night plus tips, Irene replied. Its modest, but enough for a rented room and food.
Sarahs mind turned over a plan.
Would you like to return to accounting? she asked. A regular post, no management.
Id love to! Irenes eyes lit up. But they wont take me.
They will if I recommend you, Sarah said, pulling Victors business card from her bag. The man I dined with tonight is hiring a chief accountant. Ill accept the job on the condition he also hires you.
Irene stared, disbelief bright on her face.
You you want to help me? After everything I did?
Yes, Sarah replied simply. I want to help.
Why? Irene asked, bewildered. I was terrible to you!
Because Im not like you, Sarah said, standing. I dont seek revenge. I want people to change for the better. And youve already changed, I can see that.
Irene grabbed Sarahs hand.
Sarah I dont know what to say. I dont deserve your kindness.
Everyone who repents deserves a chance, Sarah said, releasing her hand gently. But theres one condition: if you ever start belittling anyone again, Ill make sure youre dismissed. Deal?
Deal! Irene promised earnestly. I promise Ive changed!
Good, Sarah said, heading for the door. Tomorrow Ill call Victor and sort everything out. Ill let you know.
Sarah! Irene called after her. Thank you, thank you so muchfor forgiveness, for help, for being better than me.
Sarah turned back briefly.
Dont thank me yet. Youll have a lot of work ahead, and Ill be a strict but fair supervisor. Be ready.
She left the staff room feeling lighter than she had in years. She had chosen forgiveness over vengeance, compassion over spite.
The next day Sarah phoned Victor.
I accept your offer, she said. But I have a condition.
Im listening, Victor replied.
I need a reliable accountant. I have someone in mindshe has a conditional conviction, not her fault. If you take her, I start next week.
Will you take responsibility for her? Victor asked.
I will, Sarah affirmed. Then you have my word.
Victor agreed, and they arranged for Irene to join the team.
Later that week Sarah called the restaurant.
Please inform Irene Watson that shes needed on Monday, Sarah said. Were hiring her as a junior accountant.
On the other end a nervous voice answered, Thank you I wont let you down.
At the new office, Victor greeted them warmly, showing them their desks and explaining the workflow.
Irene worked quietly, eyes fixed on the spreadsheets, never glancing up. She completed tasks swiftly, never complaining.
During lunch at a nearby café, Irene hesitated before speaking.
May I ask something? she said.
Go ahead, Sarah replied.
Why did you do all that to me? Irene asked, fidgeting with a napkin. I ruined your life, drove you to the hospital, and yet you forgave me and even helped me. Why?
Sarah sipped her coffee, gathering her thoughts.
Honestly, I was angry for a long time, she began. But that anger ate away at me. I realised hating you only hurt me. So I let it go, forgave you, and moved on.
She paused, recalling the night at the restaurant.
When I saw you there, I thought justicethat youd get what you deserved. But then I saw your tears, heard your story, and realised you were already paying a price far beyond what I could ever give, Sarah continued. Revenge wouldnt have made me happy. Helping you does.
Irene listened, tears welling again.
Its Im humbled, she whispered. I was a terrible person. I truly want to change.
Youre on the right path, Sarah said, smiling. Keep it up.
Weeks passed. Irene arrived early, left late, never complained, and treated colleagues with courtesy. When a fresh graduate joined the department, making simple mistakes, Irene patiently guided her, never raising her voice.
One evening Sarah approached her.
Good work today with the newcomer, Sarah praised.
Irene blushed. I remember how you walked into my life once, young and inexperienced. I was cruel to you. Im ashamed just thinking about it. Now I try to be the oppositehelp rather than hurt.
Thats exactly what Im seeing, Sarah said, patting her shoulder. Keep it up.
Their professional relationship blossomed into a genuine friendship. They shared lunches, discussed news, and talked about their lives. Irene confided how losing everything taught her to value people, and Sarah spoke of her own journey.
One thing Im grateful for, Irene said one day, is that I hit rock bottom. It forced me to reevaluate everything.
Sarah nodded. Youve become a better person, and Im glad I could play a part.
Months later a tax inspection arrived. The inspector was sharptongued and looking for any excuse to levy a fine.
Irene felt a surge of anxiety, but she kept her composure, answering politely, providing documents, and calmly correcting any misunderstandings.
When the inspector harshly criticized the department, Irene replied evenly, Excuse me, we operate within the law. If you find errors, please point them out, and well amend them.
The audit concluded without penalties. The inspector left, and Irene exhaled, lookingAs they walked out together, Sarah smiled, knowing both their futures were finally built on forgiveness rather than revenge.
