My mother-in-law and I never saw eye to eye, and she always tried to get under my skin. But when she pulled a stunt at my workplace, I had enough and decided to teach her a valuable lesson then and there, to the praise of my colleagues and manager.

Yesterday, I was about halfway through my shift at an upscale grocery store where I work part-time when I saw her: Denise, my mother-in-law (MIL). She was strolling through the automatic doors like she was walking into her kingdom. Little did I know that her presence would cause a confrontation where I was forced to stand up for myself.

The store’s faint background music did nothing to dull the sound of her heels clacking on the polished floor as she made her grand entrance, dripping with expensive jewelry. Denise had that air about her like everyone should stop what they were doing and admire her presence.

And to be honest, she kind of expected it.

She was in her usual “look-at-me” outfit: a tailored designer coat, big sunglasses despite it being perfectly lit indoors, and a diamond necklace that probably cost more than I made in a year.

When she strutted straight toward my register, a smirk already forming on her lips, my stomach did a little flip. What on earth was she doing here?

Denise had never come to my job before, and at that very moment, part of me wished it could’ve stayed that way forever. The woman had a way of making me feel two inches tall as if her disapproving looks and passive-aggressive comments weren’t enough of a daily reminder that I wasn’t “good enough” for her precious son, Jack.

We’ve been married for five years, and still, my MIL found ways to remind me that I didn’t measure up to her standards. My husband didn’t help much and always appeared to take her side to avoid further drama, saying things like, “That’s just how Mom is.”

His unwillingness to have my back drove me insane! But I love him and believed my MIL would eventually get tired. For years, I put up with her antics and continued biting my tongue… until yesterday. Yesterday was the last time Denise messed with me because I taught her a lesson she’d never forget.

Here’s how it happened…

She stopped in front of my register and gave me that fake smile that sent chills down my spine. In her arms were two cans of caviar, the specialty, high-end, top-of-the-line kind that cost more than my rent.

I glanced at the price tags. Yep, it was as bad as I thought: hundreds of dollars for two tiny tins.

“Sweetheart,” Denise said in that sickly sweet tone she always used when she wanted something. She dropped the cans down with a soft thud on the counter and glanced over her shoulder, probably making sure we had an audience.

“I need you to take care of this.”