My beloved wife, Emma, decided to start looking for a job in retail, thinking it would be the perfect fit for her interests. One day, while at the shopping center, she saw that a famous lingerie shop was hiring, as advertised on a poster outside the store.

Emma excitedly went into the store and tried to speak to the sales assistant. However, the assistant ignored her until she was practically right in her face. Emma asked how she could apply for the job, and the sales assistant looked her up and down with a sneer before delivering the blow: “Look, I don’t think you’re pretty enough for this job. NO CHANCE. Don’t even try.”
Emma came home in tears, absolutely devastated. My heart broke seeing her like that. But then, anger took over. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can treat my wife like that and get away with it. I decided I was going to teach that sales assistant a lesson she would never forget.

A few days later, I went to the same lingerie store, making sure that the same assistant was there, and pretended to pretend to be a high-profile customer with serious buying power.

I strolled in wearing my best suit, looking polished and confident, and made sure my expensive watch was peeking out from my sleeve. As soon as I entered the store, I could see that the same dismissive sales assistant was there, perched behind the counter. She glanced in my direction, but clearly didn’t recognize me from before.

I caught her eye, offered a poised nod, and casually asked, “Could you recommend a few items for my wife? I’m looking for something special—she deserves the very best.”

In an instant, the assistant transformed her attitude. She rushed from behind the counter with a grin that practically reached her ears. Obviously, she saw my suit, recognized the brand of my watch, and assumed I had a wallet to match. Gone was the cold indifference; now she was trying hard—too hard—to impress me. I knew in that moment I had her exactly where I wanted her.

She led me around the store, picking out the most luxurious and expensive lingerie sets. With each one, I pretended to examine the details and listened politely to her rehearsed sales pitch. As soon as she finished talking, I’d ask to see something else, just to keep her on her toes. My plan was to waste as much of her time as possible—while making sure I delivered one final, dramatic punch.

Slowly, I made a show of building up a towering pile of bras, negligees, and lace sets in my arms. Other customers were starting to notice; some might have wondered if I was planning to buy the entire store. The assistant looked thrilled—she was practically rubbing her hands together in anticipation of a massive commission.

Finally, with a flourish, I glanced at the clock on the wall and theatrically sighed. “You’ve been so helpful,” I began, feigning a grateful smile. “I’m actually here because my wife—Emma—wanted to apply for a job here the other day. She mentioned meeting you.” A flicker of confusion crossed the sales assistant’s face, but I didn’t give her time to interrupt. “You know, the one you told wasn’t ‘pretty enough’ for this store? Well, I’m here to let you know that she’s perfect the way she is. And, by the way, she’s worth more than any fancy lingerie or store like this could ever offer.”

The assistant’s eyes went wide with dawning recognition. Her cheeks reddened as she finally remembered Emma—and realized the man standing before her was Emma’s husband. A couple of other customers paused their browsing to listen.

I took a step back from the mountain of lingerie in my arms and placed it all on the counter with a disapproving shake of my head. “You know,” I continued, letting the drama stretch out, “it’s quite a shame. I was prepared to spend a lot here today. But considering how you treated my wife, I think I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

The assistant’s expression shifted from shock to desperation. She opened her mouth to apologize, but it was too late. I turned on my heel, passing the store manager on my way out. I made brief eye contact with them and calmly explained, “This is how your staff treats potential employees—and customers, apparently. It’s a pity. I’d have expected better.” Then, I walked out, leaving them reeling.

Outside, I took a long, steadying breath. A few curious bystanders who overheard the commotion cast me knowing looks—some even smiled as if to say, “Good for you.” My heart pounded, a mix of leftover fury and triumph, but I felt lighter than I had in days. I’d stood up for Emma, right where the offense had happened, and made a statement that no one—not that callous assistant, not anyone—could speak to her like that without consequences.

Later that evening, when I told Emma all about my grand performance, she initially gasped in surprise, then burst out laughing. She hugged me tightly and whispered, “Thank you for standing up for me.”

The next day, we heard from a friend who worked at another store in the same shopping center. Word had traveled fast—apparently, several onlookers posted about the incident on social media. That assistant ended up in a serious conversation with the manager, who had been oblivious to her behavior until that moment. Rumor had it she was lucky to keep her job, but she certainly wouldn’t be sneering at job applicants—or customers—anytime soon.

And as for Emma? She received two interviews from other boutiques nearby, both of which had heard about her experience and wanted to show her that not every retail place hires “beauty over kindness.” She landed a position at a high-end boutique known for its warm, inclusive environment. On her first day, the manager welcomed her with a smile and said, “We’re just thrilled to have you, Emma.”

In the end, it wasn’t about revenge for revenge’s sake. It was about defending Emma’s dignity and ensuring that disrespectful behavior didn’t go unchecked. And every time Emma and I walk past that lingerie shop, I can’t help but smile at the memory of that assistant’s face when she realized I had outplayed her.

No one—no store clerk, no snobby manager—has the right to decide who’s “pretty enough.” Emma was always more than enough, and now the whole shopping center knew it, too.