3 Amazing Stories of Instant Karma Spotted in Real Life

Instant karma doesn’t wait for the guilty to escape unscathed. These three stories show how people who thought they could get away with wrongdoing were served poetic justice on the spot.

These three stories highlight instances where dishonesty, arrogance, and judgment were met with immediate consequences, proving that sometimes justice doesn’t wait for the courts.

1. My Manager Forced Me to Serve Leftovers to a Foreign Customer, but Life Taught Him a Lesson Immediately

The dinner rush at Sizzling Steak was in full swing, and I was rushing between tables, trying to keep up.

Being a new hire, I was still finding my rhythm. That’s when I noticed a middle-aged man in a kimono and overcoat walk in. He smiled warmly as I approached.

He seemed nice, but I had to tell him we didn’t serve rice.

“Fries instead?” I suggested, and he nodded happily.

I took his order and walked back to the counter. I found a half-eaten cold steak over there, so I quickly picked it up to throw it.

But my manager, Andy, stopped me.

“Why waste good food?” he said, grabbing the plate. “Serve it to him.”

I was horrified.

But Andy waved me off, laughing.

“He’s just a tourist. He won’t know the difference,” he said, smirking.

I knew it was wrong, but I felt trapped. I was afraid of losing my job.

I reluctantly served the cold steak to the man, whose name I later learned was Higashi.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” he said, pointing to the plate.

I tried to explain, but Andy stepped in.

“Hold on a second, Jackie Chan,” he barked at Higashi. “This is your order, right? Eat it!”

Higashi had no idea what was going on. Feeling confused, he stood up to leave.

That’s when a wad of cash fell from his wallet. He had hundreds of dollars in there.

I could see how Andy’s eyes lit up and he was suddenly smiling. I watched as he quickly apologized to Higashi and promised him a “luxurious experience.”

He even shoved a $100 bill into my hand to make me go along with his scheme.

In no time, Andy replaced the cold steak with a fancy meal of grilled salmon, teriyaki chicken, and sake.

“Free?” Higashi asked.

“Absolutely!” Andy boomed. “Not a penny out of your pocket, my friend.”

As Andy grabbed a delicate sake cup to pour, his hand twitched, sending a splash of rice wine spraying across Higashi’s pristine overcoat.

Andy immediately apologized and grabbed the opportunity to take the man’s expensive coat to “clean it.”

Higashi looked uneasy, but Andy took the coat anyway.

I followed Andy into the back room, and what I saw made my heart skip a beat. Andy was emptying the coat’s pockets, pulling out wads of cash.

“He’ll never know,” Andy said, trying to convince me to take the money.

I couldn’t let him do this. I took the money from him, pretending to go along with it, but my plan was to return it to Higashi.

I waited for Andy to get busy so I could open his locker and take out all the money. I quickly hid all the cash in my pockets and walked out of the back room.

Once I was sure Andy wasn’t around, I rushed to Higashi’s table and handed him the cash.

“This is your money,” I said, trying to make him understand.

Just then, a police officer walked into the restaurant, with Andy grinning beside him.

“They stole my money!” Andy claimed, showing the CCTV footage of the time I took out money from his locker.

It made me look like I was the thief, and I had no idea how to defend myself.

But before I could say anything, Higashi spoke up. In perfect English.

“Actually, officer, it’s Andy who stole my money,” Higashi said calmly.

He pulled out a business card and revealed that he was a journalist, here to write about the restaurant.

The best part was that he had marked the bills with a special chemical that turned blue when it came in contact with water. The officers immersed the bills in water, and the blue marks proved they belonged to him.

I still remember how Andy’s face went pale when the officer handcuffed him. He kept apologizing but it was too late.

Karma had already intervened.

From the moment I saw the woman sitting next to me, I knew it was going to be an uncomfortable flight that would have me cramped in my spacious first-class seat.

As she looked for the seatbelt to buckle up, her elbow jabbed at my side.

“Watch it!” I snapped.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she said, looking flustered.

But I wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

“Excuse you? Or excuse the 3,000 doughnuts you ate to get to that size?” I sneered.

“Lady, when you travel, you need to book two seats!”

I could see the tears welling up in her eyes as she turned away, but I wasn’t done. Her cheap clothes and worn shoes annoyed me, and I mocked her for probably spending her entire budget on food instead of an extra seat.

When the flight attendant arrived with the drinks cart, I decided to keep the mood light.

“Shaken, not stirred!” I joked in my best James Bond voice, then added, “I don’t know what Moby Dick here will drink…”

The flight attendant shot me a disapproving glance and addressed the woman politely, asking if she’d like anything.

“A diet Coke?” I scoffed. “Seems a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

The woman turned to face the window, and the flight attendant ignored me. At that point, I figured I had upset them both enough to feel satisfied.

Dinner was served soon after, and I couldn’t resist another jab.

“Are you sure that will be enough for her?” I asked. “It looks like she’d need a whole village to feed!”

The flight attendant ignored me once again, and I continued eating my meal.

“The captain is a huge fan and would love to invite you to the cockpit,” she said to the woman next to me.

I was confused, but I just watched her leave. I had no idea what was about to happen next.

As she walked away, I began mentally composing complaints to the airline about the service. But then the captain’s voice came over the speaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest onboard! If you’re fans of ‘I Love Opera,’ you’ll recognize the voice of Miss Allison, who is flying with us to perform in a charity concert for world hunger.”

The cabin filled with applause as a few bars of her singing played over the intercom. I froze in my seat as I realized who I had been sitting next to.

A minute later, the flight attendant returned.

“I don’t care how rich you are,” she said, looking straight into my eyes. “If you upset her again, I’ll move you to economy.”

“Sure, I, uh,” I stammered. “I-I’ll be careful.”

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier,” I mumbled. “I didn’t know who you were.”

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” she said sternly. “You shouldn’t treat people like that, EVER. And you’re not really sorry. If I weren’t famous, you wouldn’t be apologizing.”

I couldn’t say anything.

“You can’t judge people by how they look,” she continued. “You have to change your habits.”

I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the flight. I felt so embarrassed and realized Allison was absolutely right. I had to stop judging people based on how they looked.

It was a rainy evening at the Grand Lumière Hotel, and as the concierge, I prided myself on maintaining the hotel’s luxurious standards.

Everything was perfect until the doors swung open and in walked a bedraggled man, dripping wet and leaving muddy footprints in his wake.

His clothes were soaked and filthy, and his beard was unkempt.

“Excuse me,” he approached. “Can I get a room for the night? My car broke down, and I’ve been walking for hours in the rain.”

“I’m afraid we have no vacancies at the moment,” I replied coolly. “Perhaps the motel down by the highway would be more suitable for your needs.”

“We have no rooms available for someone in your condition,” I cut him off. “You’d be more comfortable elsewhere.”

“But I—”

“There’s strictly no entry for unkempt guests like you!” I sneered. “Out or I’ll have to call security!”

The man’s shoulders slumped, and he left, dragging himself back into the storm. I quickly called for the bellhop to clean the muddy mess.

About an hour later, the doors opened again, and in walked a sharply dressed man in a tailored suit. His hair was neatly combed, and his shoes gleamed.

“Good evening,” he said with a slight smile. “I’d like a room, please.”

“Of course, sir,” I said, pretending everything was okay. “May I ask what happened to your previous attire?”

“I found a truck stop down the road with showers and a clothing shop,” he smiled. “Amazing what a little soap and a clean suit can do.”

I quickly processed his reservation, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“You clean up rather well,” I said stiffly as I handed him the key. “Enjoy your stay, Mr…?”

Over the next few days, I avoided Mr. Bloomington because I wasn’t sure how to interact with him. I thought everything was going well until I overheard him on the phone one morning.

“I’ve been here for three days, observing operations incognito,” he said. “I think I’ve seen enough to make some necessary changes.”

What the… I thought. I can’t believe what I’ve done.

I approached Mr. Bloomington, hoping to apologize, but he asked me to sit with him. That’s when he told me who he really was.

“Sir… I…” I was unable to form a sentence.

“Your treatment of guests has been unacceptable, particularly how you judged people based on appearance,” he continued. “This has to stop.”

At that point, I was sure he was going to fire me. But what he said next changed my thoughts.

“I believe in second chances,” Mr. Bloomington said. “Let’s make sure this never happens again.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. “Thank you for the second chance.”

Mr. Bloomington had made it clear that all guests were supposed to be treated with respect.

Weeks later, a traveler entered the hotel on another rainy evening. This time, I greeted him with a smile.

“Welcome to the Grand Lumière,” I said warmly, knowing I wouldn’t waste my second chance.

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The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.