Mike from work had been trying to get me to go out with him for ages. I always said no because he seemed a bit off. He was also a part-time HOA manager for my grandma’s neighborhood, and she didn’t like him either.
One day, I came to my grandma’s house to help her plant new flowers since gardening was the only hobby that kept her going after my grandpa died. My heart dropped when I saw the garden destroyed, with broken decorations and my poor granny standing in the middle of it all.
“The manager guy,” she managed to say, her hands shaking. “He told me that it violated the community policies, but I just ignored him. And now… this.”
That’s when my rage turned into a calm, cold determination — I would teach this Mike a lesson. He wanted a date? He would get one. Little did he know whose grandma he tried to mess with.
I called Mike and, with a forced sweetness, accepted his standing date offer. He was surprised but eagerly agreed. We set the date for Friday evening at a posh restaurant in town. I spent the next few days planning every detail to make sure this date would be one he’d never forget.
Friday arrived, and I dressed to the nines. I met Mike at the restaurant, and he looked pleased with himself, thinking he had finally won me over. We were seated at a cozy corner table, and he immediately launched into his usual smug small talk. I played along, smiling and laughing at his lame jokes, biding my time.
After the main course, I excused myself to the restroom. Instead, I approached our waiter, discreetly slipping him a generous tip along with a note. He nodded, understanding the plan.
When I returned, Mike was still yammering on about his latest HOA conquests. I feigned interest, waiting for the right moment. It came when dessert arrived, presented with an extra flourish.
“What’s this?” Mike asked, confused as the waiter set down a beautifully decorated cake.
I smiled sweetly. “Just a little something I arranged. Go on, take a look.”
Mike leaned forward, reading the inscription on the cake. His face paled as he read aloud, “Here’s to the man who destroys gardens and hearts alike. Enjoy your dessert!”
His eyes widened as the realization hit him. “What is this, Emily?”
I leaned in, my smile turning icy. “That’s for my grandma, whose garden you destroyed. And this,” I said, pointing to the waiter who had just handed Mike an envelope, “is for you.”
Mike opened the envelope with trembling hands, revealing a stack of fines for multiple HOA violations he had committed himself. “You see, Mike, I did a little digging of my own. Turns out, you’re not as squeaky clean as you pretend to be. I reported everything to the HOA board.”
Mike’s face turned beet red. “Emily, I can explain—”
I cut him off. “Save it. You’ve been using your position to bully and harass residents. My grandma is just the latest victim. But no more. The board has already started an investigation, and I doubt you’ll be in your position much longer.”
I stood up, tossing my napkin on the table. “Oh, and Mike? This is the last time you mess with my family.”
I walked out of the restaurant, feeling a sense of justice and satisfaction. When I got home, I found my grandma waiting up for me. I hugged her tightly, telling her everything. She smiled through her tears, grateful for the payback.
A few weeks later, Mike was removed from his position as HOA manager. My grandma’s garden began to bloom again, more beautiful than ever. And as for Mike, he never showed his face around our work or the neighborhood again. It was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
