An entitled guy parked in front of our garage, picked a fight, and tossed his business card at me, thinking he’d won. But I used his card to unleash a silent storm, turning his arrogance into a lesson he’d never forget.
I’m Luke, and our garage opens to a tight alley by a small shop. People block it, assuming lights excuse them. My fiancée, Sophie, and I usually stay patient, but one night tested us. We’d picked up Sophie’s mom, Ruth, from the station for her first stay. I’d cleaned our place, and Sophie arranged daisies to welcome her. Starving for Sophie’s spaghetti, we hit the alley, finding a car blocking us. It was Owen’s, a guy from a company party who boasted about his “creative firm”—a shared office with a logo.
“Who’s Owen?” Ruth asked. “Some bragger,” I said. Owen strolled out, sipping a canned drink, grinning. “Luke, what’s good?” he said, lounging on his car. I got out, calm for Ruth. “Owen, you’re blocking us. Can you move?” He smirked. “In a minute, chill.” I said, “It’s quick. Please.” He snapped, “I run my clock.” His smugness burned, with Ruth watching. Sophie said, “Call the cops.” Owen nudged me, taunting, “Do it!”
I dialed 911, reporting his behavior and drink. Owen shouted, “He’s assaulting me!” acting dramatic. Sophie recorded it. Police arrived, and Owen played nice, but the video, Ruth’s words, and his can exposed him. He claimed he “found” the drink, testing just under the limit. They warned him to leave. As he drove off, he threw a sleek card, yelling, “Know my name!” It listed his contact details and résumé—his big mistake.
I kept my plan from Sophie and Ruth, eating dinner normally. I work in IT, knowing how job systems operate. At night, I used Owen’s card to apply for jobs in his name—diners, stores, call centers. I sent his résumé to 87 places, crafting answers to match his flair. I pictured him puzzled by recruiter calls. At a family picnic, my mom said, “Owen’s swamped with job offers—delis, theaters!” I said, “Tech glitch, probably.” His website went offline, his profiles private.
Owen’s card was meant to intimidate, but it gave me control. I had no regrets—he ignored our fatigue, shoving me and lying. I turned his card into his chaos, protecting our home’s peace. I’d do it again, sipping tea, clicking “submit” late at night, proving bullies don’t win when you fight smart.
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