My Jealous Coworker Tried to Steal My Boyfriend by Begging Him for Japanese Lessons. She Thought She Was Flirting—But He Secretly Taught Her Insults. On the Night of Our Boss’s Mother’s Birthday, She Stood Proudly, Bowed Deeply, and Publicly Told an 85-Year-Old Grandmother to “Eat Dirt.”

Some stories of workplace drama dissolve into petty gossip, forgotten by the next shift. But sometimes, fate serves up a dish so hot, so humiliating, and so unforgettable that it becomes restaurant legend. This is the story of Trish—the coworker who tried to steal my boyfriend, sabotaged my job, and ended up humiliating herself in front of the boss’s mother on her 85th birthday.

The Betrayal That Started It All

I had been working at a family-owned Japanese restaurant for two years. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable, and I had carved out a little corner of comfort there. My boyfriend, Kaido, worked nearby, often stopping in to see me during breaks.

Enter Trish.

She was new, flashy, and determined to climb the social ladder by any means necessary. Trish wasn’t just ambitious—she was ruthless. Within weeks, she had targeted Kaido, fluttering her lashes, brushing his arm “accidentally,” and always finding excuses to hang around him. Worse, she began sabotaging me. Orders mysteriously went missing under my name. Tables I had already cleaned were suddenly “dirty again.” Management gave me a final warning for “sloppiness.”

One night, I was in the back alley, crying into my apron, ready to quit. That’s when Kaido stepped in. He wiped my tears and whispered, “No. We’re not quitting. We’re going to play this game—and win.”

The Perfect Plan

Kaido’s idea was wickedly brilliant. If Trish wanted his attention, he would give it to her—but on his terms.

He began dropping hints that his relationship with me was rocky. Trish swooped in like a vulture, “comforting” him and suggesting maybe he needed someone who understood him better. Kaido, feigning vulnerability, told her he longed to hear his native language more often.

“Teach me!” she begged. “If I learn Japanese, maybe I can help you feel at home here.”

Hook, line, sinker.

Kaido agreed—and so the “lessons” began.

A Language of Lies

Every break, they sat in the corner booth. Trish leaned close, biting her lip, repeating every word Kaido whispered to her. He told her these were sweet greetings, romantic compliments, and polite customer phrases.

In reality? They were vulgar insults.

“Kuso baba,” she repeated in a sing-song voice, thinking it meant something like “darling lady.” In truth, it meant “crappy old hag.”

“Kusokurae,” she purred at a mirror, convinced it translated to “you’re so handsome.” Reality check: it meant “eat dirt.”

I had to bite my lip until it bled not to laugh as she practiced these “romantic lines,” swaying her hips and rehearsing sultry tones.

The first time she used one on a real customer, I nearly collapsed. She leaned over an elderly Japanese woman, smiled, and said, “Kuso baba!” The woman’s eyes widened. I rushed over with extra water, apologizing profusely in real Japanese. Somehow, we smoothed it over.

But Trish? She thought she was killing it. She bragged after every table. “They love me. I’m such a natural!”

The Big Night

Weeks passed, and Kaido saved the best for last.

The owner announced a private celebration: his mother’s 85th birthday. She was flying in from Japan, and the whole restaurant was expected to show up in their best uniforms and manners. This wasn’t just any dinner—it was the most important night in the restaurant’s history.

Trish preened in front of the mirror, bragging that she was “about to impress the boss’s mother with the most beautiful Japanese greeting ever.” Kaido had taught her a “formal phrase,” supposedly reserved for honoring elders.

I knew exactly what it really meant.

The Final Blow

The night was electric. The owner’s mother arrived—a tiny woman with a warm smile, bowing politely to everyone. The staff lined up to greet her. Trish strutted forward like a peacock, chest out, confidence radiating. She bowed deeply, and in her clearest, most careful voice, she announced:

“Unchi kusai baka!”

Translation: “You stupid, stinking poop.”

The room froze. Chopsticks clattered. A busboy dropped a tray of glasses.

The old woman’s eyes widened, then hardened. She turned to her son, the owner, and asked—in perfect Japanese—if this “strange woman” had truly just insulted her.

The owner’s face turned purple with fury. Trish, oblivious, straightened and beamed like she had just delivered the Gettysburg Address.

The Fallout

The explosion was immediate. The owner barked at Trish to step into the back. Customers whispered, some already giggling. The mother shook her head in disgust, muttering something about “rudeness in youth.”

I peeked into the kitchen minutes later. Trish was crying, mascara streaming, begging the owner for mercy. She insisted Kaido had taught her the phrase. But when Kaido was called in, he simply bowed, feigned confusion, and said, “I only ever taught her polite greetings. Perhaps she misunderstood.”

Trish was fired on the spot.

The Sweetest Revenge

That night, Kaido and I went home, collapsed on the couch, and laughed until our stomachs hurt. The months of stress, the sabotage, the cruelty—all of it had been avenged in one perfect, public downfall.

Trish never came back to the restaurant. Rumor has it she moved out of town, unable to face the humiliation.

And Kaido? He proved himself not just as my partner, but as my co-conspirator in the most delicious revenge I could have imagined.

The Lesson

Sometimes, karma needs a little push. Trish thought she was clever, playing games to steal my boyfriend and destroy my job. Instead, she destroyed herself—armed only with the insults she thought were compliments.

In the end, she bowed with elegance, confidence, and total ignorance—telling an 85-year-old grandmother to “eat dirt.”

And honestly? I couldn’t have scripted it better.