Wealthy Man Publicly Shames a Young Shoe Shiner—But Karma Is Watching

Rich Man Humiliates Boy Shining Shoes in Underpass

“My dog could do a better job with his tongue!” In an underpass, a wealthy guy belittles a poor youngster polishing shoes and declines to give money. However, destiny draws them together once more the following day, with an unexpected turn of events neither could have predicted.

The shuffling of hasty footsteps resonated along the tunnel. Martin, 14, was sitting calmly by the wall with his gleaming kit in front of him, oblivious to the bustle around him. His eyes flashed, hoping, at every sneaker that went by, hoping to see a customer.

“Just a small handful,” he said to himself in silence. “Just a handful today, please.”

Martin’s tummy protested as the day went on. The two bread slices for breakfast felt like a faraway memory. He grabbed his water bottle and took a tiny sip to sate his appetite.

He reminded himself, “Martin, you can do this.” “For Mom and Josephine.”

His courage was reinforced by the image of his tiny sister and disabled mother waiting for him at home. With his best smile on display, he was prepared to take on the challenges of the day.

“How about you, sir? Ma’am?” His voice was hardly audible above the noise of the underpass as he cried out.

The hours passed, yet nobody took a break. Martin’s dreams started to fade, but he didn’t give up. He gave himself permission to finally relax for a bit as the afternoon sun beat down. Reaching inside his battered leather satchel, he withdrew a tiny orange—his midday meal.

A pair of grimy brown leather shoes landed in front of him with a loud thud just as he started to peel it.

“Go quickly, child. Make it clean. “I’m rushing,” a harsh voice growled.

With a mixture of exhilaration and anxiety, Martin peered up. The man above him was a picture of wealth from head to toe. This could be his opportunity to get a nice tip.

“Right away, sir!” Martin spoke as he put down his orange and grabbed his supplies.

The man’s frustration mounted as he continued to work on the brown leather shoes. “What’s causing this delay? It’s not my entire day!”

Although Martin’s hands trembled a little, he concentrated on providing his best assistance. “Done almost perfectly, sir. It will look fantastic, I swear.”

The man sneered. “I was already earning more than my father did at your age. I wasn’t a shoe shiner like a homeless person.”

Martin was hurt by their remarks. His father was killed by an intoxicated driver three years prior, shattering their family. Martin was still plagued by the recollections of that fatal night, including the horrifying crunch of metal, the tires’ shrieking, and the terrible news that followed.

Martin’s world came crashing down a few months after he lost his father, when his mother Mariam became disabled due to a stroke. He had taken on the role of a provider at the age of eleven, giving up his youth to work as a shoe shiner like his late father.

He ignored the recollections that were about to overwhelm him. It was his job to do. He needed to feed his family.

“You call this shining?” With a grimace, the man looked at his shoe. “My dog could do a better job with his tongue!”

Martin felt a searing humiliation on his cheeks. “Sir, I apologize. I could try once more.

With a “Forget it,” the man interrupted and took out his phone. Yes, this is Sylvester. Postpone the meeting till four. Because of this incompetent brat, I will be late.

Martin’s thoughts wandered back to better days while Sylvester rambled into his phone. He recalled how his father had gently guided him and taught him how to shine shoes.

“It’s not just about the shine, son,” he would say. It concerns dignity. Every shoe you touch should be handled with the utmost care.

“Hi! Do you even have a microphone?” Sylvester’s piercing tone pulled Martin back to the present. “Why is your father bringing you out here in this manner? Too indolent to put in the work, huh?”

Martin’s voice became tight. “My father… he passed away, sir.”

Sylvester’s gaze grew strained. “Ah, I see. Your mother has most likely moved on and started dating someone else, sending more children to beg, isn’t that right? Are you guys lacking anything more to do?

Martin mustered a pleasant grin, but his hands tightened at his sides. “That’s $7, sir.”

“SEVEN DOLLARS?” Sylvester lost control. “For this pitiful pretext of a shine? Kid, I don’t think so.”

Sylvester took hold of Martin’s shoes and bounded off before Martin could respond, leaving him sad and empty-handed.

He yelled, “Wait!” and pursued the man. “Please, gentleman! That money is necessary for me. Would you please?”

However, Sylvester had already gotten into his car and was driving off, leaving Martin stuck in a cloud of disappointment and dust.

Tears were running down his face as he leaned against the wall. Gazing at the heavens, he visualized his dad’s visage.

Whispering, “I’m trying, Dad,” he said. “I’m really trying.”

The final words from his father rang in his ears: “Remember, son. Never give up. With every hiccup, you get closer to your goals. Recall.”

Martin got back to his spot, wiping away his tears. There was no time to wallow in misery. Not the moment for weeping.

Martin was back at his regular location the following morning, resolutely assembling his equipment. He was suddenly drawn to a noise nearby.

“Aid! A woman’s desperate plea rang out, “Someone help!”

Martin’s heart was racing as he ran towards the sound.

A small group of people had congregated around an expensive car, and he was shocked to see the man inside. Sylvester. The same conceited man who’d made fun of him.

Someone yelled, “He’s choking on an apple!” “The car doors are locked!”

Martin quickly snatched up a rock from the side of the road and broke the car window. As he reached in to open the door, glass broke all over the place.

He yelled, “Stand back!” and yanked Sylvester out onto the sidewalk.

Martin swung his weight around and struck Sylvester’s back multiple times. A piece of apple suddenly shot out of Sylvester’s lips, causing him to gulp for breath.

“You… you saved me,” Sylvester gasped, raising his horrified gaze to Martin.

With trembling hands himself, Martin assisted him in standing up. “Are you okay, sir?”

Sylvester, still taking a breather, nodded. “It’s unbelievable. Following my treatment of you yesterday… Why did you assist me?

Martin gave a shrug. “It was the right thing to do.”

Tears clouded Sylvester’s eyes. “Kid, I really apologize. I treated you horribly. Permit me to make things right, please. Decide on a price. Anything at all!”

After giving it some thought, Martin looked up. Just the $7 from the previous day. All I want is that.”

Sylvester gave him a disbelieving look. “But there’s so much more I could give you. Perhaps a fresh start?”

Martin gave a headshake. “Sir, I don’t require a fresh start. All I have to do is look after my family.”

Sylvester reluctantly gave the money to him. He watched the crowd go, examining Martin’s expression. “You’re very amazing, young man. “What is your name?”

“Martin, sir.”

Sylvester gave a slow nod. “Martin. I’ll never forget you or this.”

Martin clenched his fist over the hard-earned cash as Sylvester walked away to his car. His face lit up in a tiny smile as he raised his head once more to the sky.

“Dad, I remember,” he muttered. “I always do.”

Martin was startled out of sleep the following morning by his sister’s jubilant cries.

“Marty! Marty! Come on over immediately!”

His mother confusedly called after them as he hurried outside. A white bag filled to the brim with cash and a note was sitting on their porch.

Martin read loudly, hands trembling:

“A modest word of thanks won’t do for what you done. I know you would turn this down. However, you should have a pleasant childhood. It only took me an hour to locate your address. Isn’t the world a little place? I hope we cross paths again and that you continue to be the wonderful person you truly are!

Sylvester.

Martin’s eyes were filled with amazement and delight tears. His sister let out a yell, and their mother, evidently taken aback by the sight of so much cash, yelled out from inside.

“Martin? What is happening?” She came over in her wheelchair.

Martin’s brain whirled. Everything could change with this money: Josephine’s schooling, his mother’s care, and their whole future. But did accepting it make sense?

He picked up two pieces of paper and went to their cottage’s little altar. He scrawled “REMEMBER” on one and “FORGET” on the other. He shuffled them with his hands as he folded them.

Martin lit a candle in front of the crucifix and closed his eyes. He said, “Dad, please help me make the right decision.”

He inhaled deeply, then carefully unfolded a piece of folded paper. His expression brightened somewhat at the phrase “REMEMBER.”

Martin knew at that very instant. Not for himself, but for his family, he would take the money. He would reflect on his own hardships, the lessons learned from his father, and the tenderness that can exist even in the most heartless people.

“Josephine!” he said, emotion building in his voice. “Go tell Mom that today is our doctor’s appointment. Then, perhaps, on the way home, we’ll make an ice cream stop. Purchase Mom a cozy new mattress. plus an abundance of goods for the whole week!”

Martin closed his eyes and held the note against his chest as Josephine’s happy squeals filled the room. He had discovered a route forward because he had remembered.