“Hey everyone, look who’s here! Mr. Low Education!”
Mike’s obnoxious voice echoed through the reunion hall. He was practically shouting, a smug, cruel grin plastered on his face as he pointed directly at me. Our former classmates, who had been chatting and laughing a moment before, began to turn, their curiosity piqued by the sudden drama. I felt a familiar, weary sigh build in my chest. Fifteen years had passed, and yet, here we were, right back in the toxic dynamic of our middle school classroom. I couldn’t understand why Mike remained so relentlessly unpleasant. And frankly, I didn’t want to.
Seeing no reaction from me, his taunts escalated. “A guy like you, with a low education, doesn’t belong at a reunion for elites. What are you even doing here?”
This time, the insult landed with a thud, not just on me, but on the memory of my father, on the promise I made to my mother. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. It was time to tell Mike the real reason I had come to this reunion. I decided to finally speak up. And as the truth unraveled, Mike, who had been so full of himself just moments before, began to tremble, his face draining of all color before he collapsed to his knees.
My name is Thomas, and I’m 33 years old. I work as an investigator for a small detective agency. My path here was unconventional, shaped by two men: my father, a humble and beloved police officer, and his colleague’s son, Mike, a boy who learned early that cruelty could be a currency.
My father was a patrolman, the kind of cop who knew everyone on his beat by name. He believed in community, in service, in helping people. He always told me, “If you want to wear the badge, Thomas, you have to study hard. You have to be better.” I took his words to heart. I studied relentlessly and passed the entrance exam for a prestigious private middle school. It was a huge financial stretch for my family, but it was for my dream.
The first day of middle school, that dream was immediately soured. A luxury sedan pulled up, and a boy and his mother got out. The boy looked at me with a smirk. His mother approached mine. “Lisa,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “I didn’t know your son got in. Can you even afford a school this expensive?”
My mother, always graceful, smiled. “It’s for our son’s dream. We’ll manage just fine.”
The boy’s mother laughed. To her son, she said, “Don’t worry, you probably won’t have to interact with poor people like them.”
“What unpleasant people,” I whispered to my mom. “Do you know them?”
My mother’s smile was tinged with sadness. “That’s Mike,” she said. “His father is your dad’s colleague.”
She explained that our fathers had entered the police academy together. But while my dad chose to work at a local police station, engaging with the community, Mike’s father became a detective, chasing promotions and prestige. As their careers diverged, so did their families. Mike’s father, a college graduate, earned a significantly higher salary than my dad, who only had a high school diploma. And that difference, my mother explained, had changed everything. “You must never judge people by their money or status, Thomas,” she told me, looking me in the eye. I vowed in that moment never to become like Mike’s family.
But when I walked into my new classroom, my resolve was immediately tested. Mike was seated right next to me. He looked at me with a disgusted expression. “You’ve got to be kidding. Having a poor kid like you next to me is going to make it impossible to concentrate.” His mother, standing behind him, chimed in, “Thomas, don’t you dare interfere with my son.”
That first day was a nightmare. The next day was worse. When I arrived, I found Mike’s belongings piled on my desk. He was chatting happily with other classmates, ignoring me.
“Um, this is my seat,” I said hesitantly. He didn’t even look at me. “Hey, this is my seat,” I said, louder this time.
Mike turned to me with that signature smirk. “Oops, my bad. I thought your seat was for storing my stuff.” The other kids laughed.
I felt a hot surge of anger, but I knew that causing a scene would only make things worse. I just stood there, my emotions in a chokehold. That’s when a classmate behind me spoke up. “Mike, he was giving you a hard time. Don’t mind him. He’s always like that.” It was Jacob, a boy who had gone to elementary school with Mike. “He’s always bragging about his wealth and making everyone else feel small.” Jacob stood up for me that day, and we became fast friends. For the next three years, Mike continued to hurl insults at me, but Jacob always had my back, making my time in middle school bearable.
By our senior year of high school, I was unsure of my future. My father had become a police officer with just a high school diploma. If I were to follow in his footsteps, I wouldn’t need college. My mother insisted, “Even if you want to be a police officer, having a good education is important.” My father, in contrast, was supportive of whatever I chose. “Thomas, it’s your life. Do what you want.”
Hearing this, I decided not to go to college. I would take the police exam after graduation.
A familiar, unpleasant voice interrupted my conversation with Jacob about my plans. “Not going to college?” Mike sneered. “You just don’t want to study, do you? You’ll never become a police officer. Stop joking around.”
His words stung. I knew I wasn’t exceptionally smart or athletic. I was well aware that I might not pass the exam. But hearing it from Mike, with such venom, made it feel like a certainty. Jacob jumped to my defense, but Mike just laughed. “There’s no way a scrawny guy like him can be a police officer. If people like him become one, we’re doomed.”
I was deeply moved by Jacob’s loyalty. “I’ll work hard for the exam,” I promised him. “I’ll prove Mike wrong.”
But my dream quickly crumbled. Despite my best efforts, I failed the police exam. I was devastated. As expected, Mike belittled me even more when he found out. “I knew you were useless,” he’d said in the hallway, loud enough for everyone to hear. I had no retort. On the day of my high school graduation, I left the school as if I were fleeing. I couldn’t bear to hear another word from him.
After graduation, I followed my father’s advice and looked for a job where I could help others. That’s when I found a small detective agency run by a woman named Mary. I passionately explained my reasons for wanting the job, and she hired me on the spot. Over the next fifteen years, Mary patiently taught me everything, and I became a competent and respected investigator. The gratitude I received from clients at the end of an investigation made it all worthwhile.
Then, one day, a woman named Jessica came to our agency. “I think my fiancé might be cheating on me,” she said, tears in her eyes. When she showed me his photo, my stomach dropped. It was Mike. He was now an orthopedic doctor with his own clinic. And apparently, a cheating fiancé. Knowing Mike, I wasn’t surprised. I took the case.
During the investigation, a strange coincidence occurred. My mother threw out her back, and I had to take her to an orthopedic clinic. The clinic I found online, the cleanest and best-reviewed in the area, was Mike’s. He was as arrogant as ever, spending the entire examination making condescending remarks about my lack of a college degree. “While you were messing around with just a high school diploma,” he’d gloated, “I was studying hard and graduating from medical school. Thanks to my abilities, I became a doctor and even own my own clinic.” I just wanted to get my mom out of there as quickly as possible. As we left, I heard him and his nurse laughing behind us. “That guy was my classmate, but he’s just a high school graduate. Can you believe it?”
The anger I felt in that moment was white-hot. But my mother, ever the voice of reason, whispered, “Calm down, Thomas. People like him will get their karma eventually.”
A few days later, I received an invitation to our 15-year middle school reunion. I was hesitant. I didn’t want to see Mike. But Jacob, my best friend, was adamant. “Don’t let him stop you. Let’s go have some good drinks and reminisce.” I reluctantly agreed.
The day of the reunion arrived. I walked into the fancy hotel restaurant, and Jacob immediately greeted me with a glass of wine. As we toasted, I noticed a commotion at the back of the room. It was Mike, standing with a beautiful woman, introducing her to our classmates. “This is my fiancé, Rachel,” he boasted. “She’s the daughter of the director of T Hospital. We’re getting married soon, and her father is going to invest a lot of money into my clinic. It’s going to expand even more.”
I quickly turned my attention back to Jacob. I wanted nothing to do with Mike. But he soon noticed me and shouted, his voice echoing across the room, “Hey everyone, look who decided to show up! Mr. Low Education!”
The restaurant buzzed, and all eyes turned to me. I instinctively looked down, the familiar feeling of humiliation washing over me. As I remained silent, Mike continued to hurl insults. “This reunion isn’t for someone like you with no education. Why are you even here?”
Jacob shouted at him to stop, but Mike just laughed. “What I’m saying is the truth. This reunion is for elites.” He then began to insult my parents. “Well, your parents were probably just as uneducated and useless. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
That was the last straw. “My parents are not useless,” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “The one who’s useless is you, Mike.”
“What did you say?” His face turned red, and he approached me arrogantly.
“I didn’t come to this reunion to see you, Mike. But now that I’m here, there’s something I have to tell you.”
He laughed derisively. “What could you possibly want to say? Are you going to ask for a job at my clinic? Sorry, but we don’t hire high school graduates.”
“No,” I said, taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes. “That’s not it. Mike, do you know someone named Jessica?”
His face instantly turned pale. “I… I don’t know anyone by that name,” he stammered, clearly panicking. His fiancé, Rachel, looked puzzled. “Who’s Jessica?”
Just then, a loud voice echoed from the restaurant entrance. “How could you do this to me? You said you wanted to marry me!”
It was Jessica, my client. She stormed into the restaurant, her face twisted with anger. Mike’s face went ashen as he desperately tried to make excuses. “Rachel, it’s not like that! She’s just a friend!”
“I’m not just a friend!” Jessica cried. “You said you loved me! That’s why I lent you money!”
The venue was in an uproar. I decided it was time to reveal the truth to everyone. “Mike,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise, “you got engaged to Rachel while you were still engaged to Jessica. Who do you think you are?”
“Do you think you’re a detective or something?” he sneered.
I handed him my business card. “Actually, yes. I work for a detective agency, and Jessica hired me to investigate your cheating.” I then produced a stack of photos showing him in a close embrace with Jessica. As he snatched them and tore them to shreds, another woman, Emily, approached.
“Mike,” she said, her voice shaking, “you promised to marry me, too, didn’t you?”
The room went silent. Three women. Mike was trembling uncontrollably.
“I can’t believe this,” Jessica said, storming out. “I’m breaking up with you, and you’d better repay all the money you borrowed!”
Rachel, red-faced with anger, confronted him. “So, you were deceiving me, too? I’m calling off the wedding. Goodbye.” She left just as Jessica had. Mike, in a panic, chased after her, his web of lies completely unraveled.
It’s been a year since that reunion, a night that has become legendary among my former classmates. The story of Mike’s spectacular downfall spread like wildfire. As it turned out, Jessica, Rachel, and Emily were not the only women he had deceived. My investigation had uncovered a long history of him promising marriage to secure loans from his romantic partners.
Faced with multiple lawsuits and the threat of criminal fraud charges, Mike’s life imploded. He ended up paying a substantial amount in damages to all three women. The news of his deceit destroyed his reputation, and his once-thriving clinic saw fewer and fewer patients. He had to take out significant loans to stay afloat, but eventually, he couldn’t keep up and had to declare bankruptcy, closing the clinic for good. The last I heard from Jacob, Mike had lost everything and was forced to move back in with his parents, his “elite” status revoked. His father, the high-ranking detective, couldn’t pull any strings to save him from this.
As for me, I continue my work as a detective, helping those in need. Jessica, after her ordeal, became a good friend. My agency has grown, and my reputation for being thorough and discreet has brought in more clients than I can handle. I even hired two new investigators to help with the workload.
My mother was right all those years ago. Karma did, eventually, come for Mike. He spent his life judging others based on their education and financial status, building his own identity on a foundation of arrogance and deceit. He saw me as “less than” because I didn’t have a college degree, but he failed to see that my father had taught me something far more valuable: integrity. In the end, his elite education and his fancy clinic meant nothing. They were just decorations on a hollow man. I didn’t have to become a police officer to help people or to find justice. I found my own path, and in doing so, I proved that a person’s worth is not defined by the diploma on their wall, but by the character in their heart.