She Stole My 500 Clients,I Smiled and Handed Her My Empire

It was the third month I'd been ordering diet meals for my coworkers, and the customer count had climbed past five hundred.

Every day at noon, my father had five hundred portions delivered like clockwork.

A few staff members split them up floor by floor, making sure everyone had food in front of them within ten minutes.

My coworker Quinn Gable had been eyeing my little operation with envy. She bought one of the meals, snapped a photo, and posted it to the group chat.

"A few leaves of lettuce, a couple scraps of meat, and a handful of dead shrimp. No way this is worth $29.90."

Then she dropped in a string of stock photos. "I made these myself. They look amazing, smell amazing, taste amazing, and they're only $8.80."

Right after that, she posted an order flyer to the group.

The fine print read: twenty percent off the first week, plus a free side of deli meats.

In an instant, all five hundred coworkers canceled their meals for the next day.

I let out a long breath.

I'd finally tossed away the money-losing hot potato.

The group chat wouldn't stop buzzing.

"Oh my God, when you compare them side by side, $29.90 for one of hers is so overpriced."

"Quinn's is only $8.80, and honestly it looks way better than hers."

The ones talking were Betty Chavez and Kathy Fox from HR.

Those two I remembered well.

Every single meal order came with a note from them, demanding double meat, extra shrimp, extra veggies.

For the sake of being coworkers, I never made an issue of it.

Every time, I told the kitchen to pack theirs in the larger containers.

And now they were the first ones to stab me in the back.

"$29.90, and she actually has the nerve. The cost is probably only three or four bucks. Who knows what she's doing with all that dirty money."

Seeing people back her up, Quinn got bolder.

She came right out and accused me in the group of profiting off filth.

I stared at the messages flooding the screen.

I didn't argue back.

Bringing diet meals for my coworkers had started by pure accident.

I held myself to strict standards about staying in shape.

But my mom worried I'd hurt my health dieting too hard.

So she hired a nutritionist just to plan out diet meals for me.

My coworker Mia Whitney, who sat next to me, saw them and begged me to grab her one too.

I figured we were coworkers, so a small favor was no big deal.

What I didn't expect was that once Mia started spreading the word, more and more coworkers came to me asking me to order diet meals for them.

The company was far from the city center, and the only options downstairs were a few hole-in-the-wall places with terrible food.

I'm soft when it comes to saying no, and I couldn't bring myself to turn down my coworkers.

So I had my father hire a few chefs specifically for it.

I used only the best ingredients, and every meal's balance was calculated by the nutritionist.

All the costs added up to at least $50 a portion.

But given what my coworkers earned, I priced each one at $29.90, just enough to cover the delivery driver and the staff who handed them out.

After three months of it, I'd sunk over $20,000 into the whole thing.

So today, the moment I saw Quinn going after me in the group chat?

I was thrilled.

"You can tell at a glance she's using lymph-node meat and frozen dead shrimp. That salad dressing is an unnatural color, definitely loaded with additives."

"Forget whether it even helps you lose weight. Eat that long-term and you'll have serious problems."

To make everyone believe her, she shared several articles in the group about the health dangers of lymph-node meat and zombie shrimp.

"I've been disgusted by this for a while. I kept quiet because we're all coworkers, but for everyone's sake, I had to speak up."

"I don't care whether you order my diet meals or not, but please, stop poisoning your bodies."

"I'm not trying to steal Fay Fox's business. I'm just a struggling mom. Making diet meals for everyone solves the lunch problem and helps me put a little extra toward the bills."

Quinn was playing the struggling-mom card, tugging at everyone's heartstrings.

"You can rest easy about the quality of my meals. I make baby food all the time. Food quality and safety are absolutely up to standard."

Plenty of people looking for a bargain chimed in to agree with her.

"Quinn's totally right. No wonder my stomach's been killing me lately. It's all those diet meals of hers I've been eating."

That was Luke Sullivan from Sales, dumping the blame in the group chat.

He had the worst numbers in the department, and month-end was breathing down his neck.

Desperate not to get cut, he'd been chasing deals like a madman.

Drinking with clients until the early hours every nightif his stomach didn't ache, whose would?

"Quinn's a struggling mom, you know, and one diet meal is only $8.80. If you ask me, everyone should be ordering from Quinn. We're all coworkers. Think of it as helping each other out."

That was Vice President Whitney.

When I clocked in this morning, I'd seen Quinn Gable come strolling out of his office, grinning ear to ear.

I hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

It never crossed my mind that, just to steal my business,

Quinn had already greased the wheels with Vice President Whitney.

With his endorsement, the crowd caught the scent and moved fast.

The chat notifications came faster and faster.

"Canceling my order for tomorrow lunch." "Not eating tomorrow." "Refund, please."

Message after message popped up, all the same tune.

I handled every single one without batting an eye.

Just when I thought I was finally free of these rotten people,

free of this whole rotten mess,

Quinn slid into my messages.

"Fay, sweetie, you saw it yourself. The eyes of the crowd never lie."

"But hey, we're coworkers after all, so I've been thinking of you."

"Here's the deal. I charge everyone $8.80 a meal, give you $3.80, and you keep delivering like always."

Reading that, I was floored.

"The junk you make couldn't cost $3.80 to throw together. But fine, if that feels too tight, I'll bump you to four bucks."

Staring at those lines, I could picture the scheming spread all over that doughy, carb-bloated face of hers.

"No thanks. Not interested."

My flat refusal sent Quinn into a panic.

"Fay, how can you be like this? We're all coworkers. I'm only doing this so everyone can eat the healthiest, tastiest diet meals at the lowest cost."

"You've made a killing off everyone these past few months. What's it to you to earn a little less?"

"Can't you survive without scamming people out of their money?"

The more she ranted, the more her true colors bled through.

When I didn't answer, she quickly deleted that last line.

"Sweetie, how about thisI'll give you five bucks, and you keep delivering everyone's meals like before."

Her nonstop nagging messages were grating on my last nerve.

A woman like herblock her with one hand, and she'd be standing at my elbow yapping with the other.

"No thanks. Not interested."

"Each meal costs me at least $50 to make. Am I out of my mind, taking five bucks from you to keep delivering?"

Maybe the cost per meal knocked the wind out of her.

She didn't reply for a long while.

"If that's really the problem, go scavenge some wilted scraps at the farmers market, and just buy the meat straight from the slaughterhouse."

She was handing me tips, pleased as punch with her own cleverness.

"Quinn, you're the one who said you could deliver meals to coworkers for $8.80. That's got nothing to do with me, so don't try to drag me into it."

"If you keep being unreasonable, I'm posting these chat logs in the group."

In an instant, Quinn went dead silent.

She started frantically deleting her messages.

She lived for face, loved nothing more than building up her perfect image in front of coworkers.

But I'd been ready all along.

From the second she sent her first message, I'd been screen-recording.

I couldn't be sure whether a snake like her

would come back to cause me trouble down the line.

I wasn't afraid to make an enemy of her, but I had to cover myself.

Sure enough, she shoved her chair back, stood up, and stormed off to the break room to make a few calls.

Then she came charging out, her face dark with fury.

Sweetie, send me your supplier's contact info.

The message popped up out of nowhere.

Worried I wouldn't answer, she actually stood up and stared straight at my desk.

Don't have time. If you're good enough to take the orders, make them yourself. You can't afford my supplier.

The second I hit send, she shot a glance at her screen.

Her fist clenched, and I could tell she wanted to curse me out.

But for the sake of her image, she swallowed it.

Still, from the shape of her lips, I read it loud and clear.

She was telling me to just wait.

Fine. Then I'd wait.

Let's see what kind of diet meal she could whip up for $8.80.

Fay, sweetie, you saw it for yourself. The crowd's eyes don't lie.

But we're coworkers, after all, so I thought of a way to look out for you.

Here's the deal: I'll charge everyone $8.80 a meal, pay you $3.80, and you keep delivering to them like before.

When I read that, I was floored.

The junk you'd use can't even add up to $3.80. If you think that's too little, fine, I'll give you four bucks.

Reading those lines, I could picture the scheming spread all over that doughy, carb-puffed face of hers.

No thanks. Not interested.

The second I turned her down, Quinn panicked.

Fay, how can you be like this? We're all coworkers. I'm doing this so everyone can eat the healthiest, tastiest diet meals at the lowest cost.

You made plenty off everyone these past few months. Would it kill you to earn a little less?

Can't you survive without scamming everybody?

The more she typed, the more her true colors came pouring out.

When I didn't answer, she quickly recalled that last line.

Sweetie, how about this. I'll give you five bucks, and you keep delivering the meals like before.

Her endless nagging messages were starting to wear on me.

With someone like her, the moment I blocked her, she'd just plant herself next to me and run her mouth nonstop.

No thanks. Not interested.

My cost per meal is at least $50. So I take five bucks from you and keep delivering? Do I look insane to you?

Maybe she was stunned by what the meals actually cost.

She went quiet for a long while.

If it really comes to that, go scrounge some rotten veggie scraps from the market, and just buy the meat straight from the slaughterhouse.

She offered up her advice, thinking herself clever.

Quinn, you're the one who said you could bring everyone meals for $8.80. That's got nothing to do with me, so don't try to drag me into it.

And if you keep making a scene, I'll post these chat logs in the group.

In an instant, Quinn went dead silent.

She started frantically recalling her messages.

She lived for appearances, loved building up her image in front of coworkers.

But I'd been ready all along.

From the very first message she sent me, I'd been screen-recording.

I couldn't be sure, with a sleazy little schemer like her.

Whether she'd come back to cause me trouble later.

I wasn't afraid to make an enemy of her, but I had to protect myself.

She stood, shoved her chair back, and stormed off to the break room to make a few calls.

She came charging back out, her face dark with fury.

Sweetie, send me your supplier's contact info.

The message popped up out of nowhere.

Worried I wouldn't answer, she actually stood up and stared straight at my desk.

Don't have time. If you're good enough to take the orders, make them yourself. You can't afford my supplier.

The second I hit send, she shot a glance at her screen.

Her fist clenched, and I could tell she wanted to curse me out.

But for the sake of her image, she swallowed it.

Still, from the shape of her lips, I read it loud and clear.

She was telling me to just wait.

Fine. Then I'd wait.

Let's see what kind of diet meal she could whip up for $8.80.

Up before dawn, I carried the lunch my housekeeper had packed into the office.

The usual morning chaos cut off the second I walked in.

I knew exactly what they were doing. Freeze me out, ice me down, make me bow my head.

Not a chance.

All morning I sat at my desk and did my job, clean and quiet, like nothing was wrong.

At twelve sharp, the punch-out chime rang through the floor.

Heads swiveled toward the door, faces bright with expectation.

On any normal day, the five delivery guys I'd hired would already be lined up at the entrance.

Handing out diet meals, one by one.

But today, ten minutes ticked by.

Nothing at the door but a draft of cold air. Not a single person.

Quinn had slipped out at eleven.

And still hadn't come back.

"What's going on? It's already twelve-ten. Where's the food?"

"Fay, what's the deal? Go chase it down."

Luke from sales couldn't sit still any longer. He shot to his feet and turned on me.

I was busy savoring my housekeeper's ginger duck.

"Fay, nobody else's lunch is here and you're eating already?"

His voice climbed, sharp with accusation.

Lance Gray, at the desk beside him, grabbed his arm fast.

"Luke, did you forget? We ordered from Quinn yesterday."

His face went scarlet in an instant, and he dropped back into his chair with a thud.

"Relax, everybody. It's Quinn's first day covering the orders. A few minutes' delay is totally normal."

Maud Chavez stood up to smooth things over on Quinn's behalf.

The minutes crawled past, one by one. Another fifteen gone.

Normally by now the whole room would be thick with the smell of food.

Instead, it was dead silent. Eerily so.

Every last one of them stared at the door like starving wolves.

Finally, the elevator dinged.

"It's here! Today's feast has arrived!"

Quinn dragged in a huge bag, sweat pouring down her face.

"Eat up, eat up, while it's hot!"

After fifteen minutes of scrambling, with everyone elbowing and snatching,

the whole crowd finally got the diet meals they'd been craving.

"Tastes good. Really good."

Maud was already wolfing hers down.

Quinn had run so many trips her makeup had melted off.

"Sweetie, this one's for you. Give it a try. See if my $8.80 lives up to your $29.90."

She beamed at me. "No thanks. I already ate."

She acted like she hadn't heard me refuse, set the diet meal down anyway, and moved on.

I took one look. She'd kept her word, all right.

The broccoli looked wilted on sight, the purple cabbage an off color.

Those two limp red slices of meat? I couldn't tell you what animal they came from.

Still, she was clever. She'd loaded it with additives.

The taste was good.

"The free deli dishes are on the table, everybody dig in."

After dropping off the last batch, Quinn finally sank into her seat.

I opened the deli box she'd set down, and a wave of spicy-savory steam hit my face.

The duck carcass inside was bone-dry, dotted with little black specks.

The lotus root layered underneath had gone soft and mushy.

If it weren't drowning in heavy seasoning,

even an idiot could've seen this stuff had gone bad.

For her to pull this off on that budget,

she really had cut every corner she could.

Half an hour later, Quinn bustled around clearing the heaps of trash people had dumped.

I watched the exhaustion she couldn't quite hide beneath that smile.

I sipped my flower tea and quietly watched her run circles around the room.

All show and no substance. I was curious how many days she could keep it up.