The $2.50 Lunch Service

After the school cafeteria for elementary school kids shut down, I decided to offer meals for all the kids in our building at my home.

At the end of the month, when it came time to settle the bill, one of the neighbors wasn’t happy.

“The new caterer downstairs only charges $2.50 per meal, but you’re charging us $5! That’s an extra $75 per kid per month. Do you have no shame?” she accused me.

I calmly explained that I only used free-range meat and organic vegetables in my meals. But no matter how patiently I tried to reason with them, the parents insisted I refund the difference and demanded I charge no more than $2.50 per meal moving forward.

When I lowered my costs to meet their demands, they started accusing me of mistreating their children. They went online to expose me and even reported me to the authorities. The online attacks were relentless. I was fined, and my husband lost his job because of the controversy surrounding me.

The stress pushed me into depression, and in the end, I jumped off a building to end it all.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw those same parents being swayed by others in the neighborhood to send their kids to the new daycare service that only charged $2.50 a day.

What they didn’t know was that the lunch caterer next door did serve meat every day—but it was frozen, diseased pork that had been sitting in storage for two years.

“You’re nothing but a thief! You've been ripping us off for two months. Why don’t you just go die!” The insults kept coming.

As I looked at the angry faces in front of me, I realized I had been reborn.

In my previous life, after the school cafeteria closed down, I had started a lunch catering service for all the elementary school kids in our apartment building. With my flexible schedule, I charged each child $5 per meal for convenience.

For the first six months, everything went smoothly, and no one complained. But then, at the end of the month, when it came time to settle the bill, my neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, showed up with an army of angry parents, accusing me of overcharging.

She stood with her hands on her hips, pointing a finger at me, and shouted, “Emily Haber, the lunch catering service in the next neighborhood only charges $2.50 a meal, but you charge us $5! That’s an extra $75 per kid per month! Have you no shame?”

I quickly explained, “Mrs. Peterson, $5 is absolutely reasonable. I prepare a balanced meal with protein, vegetables and fresh fruit. I only use free-range meat and organic produce. Everything comes from Whole Foods, not some discount market."

"That doesn't even cover my time or utilities. Plus, I often watch the kids after school when parents run late. 5 dollars is more than reasonable. And about that other lunch service—"

Before I could finish, Mrs. Peterson slapped me across the face, her expression full of fury. “In the end, you’re just making money off us, profiting off our kids! How dare you! The other lunch service is so much cheaper, and if you want to keep doing business here, you should refund all the extra money you’ve charged us!”

Of course, I refused.

But they escalated the matter to my husband’s workplace. I had no choice but to refund the money and agree to lower the meal price to $2.50.

Once I lowered the price, the quality of the meals had to drop too. But even then, I made sure the food was still from reliable sources. I had to simplify the meals from a full spread to just two items, and the fresh fruit had to go.

But Mrs. Peterson was still unhappy. She accused me of mistreating the children and organized protests outside my apartment, demanding compensation.

When I refused, and they took the matter online. The online harassment drove me into depression.

The memory of my fall from the twentieth floor still sent chills down my spine. I shuddered.

Facing their accusations now, in this second life, I responded quietly, "Alright. I'll give you your refund."

My words stunned the angry crowd into silence. Their prepared insults died in their throats.

Mrs. Peterson stared in disbelief. "Do you mean it?"