When I was 25, I watched my mom, Cathy — the beloved “Cookie Lady” of Beller’s Bakery — come home in tears, apron still dusted with flour. She’d been fired for giving leftover pastries to a homeless veteran during a storm. Her new manager, Derek, called it theft. I was powerless then. But ten years later, I got my chance.
I now run a food-tech company that legally redistributes surplus food to shelters — exactly the kind of mission my mom once got punished for supporting. While hiring an operations manager, I saw a familiar name on a resume: Derek. He didn’t recognize me. In the interview, he bragged about firing an employee for giving food to the homeless.
“Protecting the bottom line,” he said with a laugh.
I didn’t laugh.
“That woman was my mother,” I told him.
His face dropped. I told him there was no job for him — but the shelter down the street was hiring.
That night, I called Mom. She already knew. Mothers always do.
Today, she runs our outreach team — handing out muffins and hope again, this time with her name on the door. Because kindness may be punished… but it never stays down.
Karma remembers. And so do I.