My MIL Paid My Boss to Get Me Fired So I Would Be a ‘Better Wife’ – I Made Her Regret It

Have you ever encountered someone who’d pay your boss to fire you, all to make you a “better wife”? I never thought I would, but here I am—Tina, 35, career-oriented and married to Alvin, the love of my life. That “someone” turned out to be my mother-in-law, Joyce. Despite being a woman, mother, and wife herself, she believed women belonged in the kitchen, not an office. Little did she know, she was in for a rude awakening…

Let me give you some backstory: Joyce, my 67-year-old mother-in-law, is the epitome of an old-fashioned woman, straight out of a 1950s sitcom. Think June Cleaver from “Leave It to Beaver,” but with an extra dash of judgmental flair and none of the warmth.

When Alvin and I got married five years ago, I had initially planned to become a housewife. It seemed like the natural progression of things, and honestly, I thought it would make everyone happy, especially Joyce.

But life has a funny way of surprising you.

Shortly after our wedding, I landed a job as an assistant manager at a local bridal boutique. It was supposed to be temporary, just something to keep me busy until we started a family.

However, I quickly discovered that I had a knack for the business. My boss, Mr. Lincoln, saw potential in me and started grooming me for a higher position.

Within a year, I had been promoted to manager, and our boutique’s sales had skyrocketed. I was in love with my job.

The satisfaction of helping brides find their perfect dresses, the thrill of closing big sales, and the sense of accomplishment I felt at the end of each day… it was intoxicating.

I knew then that I couldn’t give it up. My career had taken off, and I changed my mind about staying home.

Alvin was supportive of my decision. He loved seeing me passionate about something and was proud of my accomplishments. But Joyce? Well, that was a different story entirely. Apparently, she couldn’t accept it.

Every weekend, when Joyce visited, it was pure hell. There wasn’t a single day she wouldn’t grumble about my lack of homemaking skills or how I was “too engrossed” in my work.

It started subtly at first… a disapproving glance when she noticed dust on the shelves, a tsk-tsk when she opened our fridge to find more takeout containers than home-cooked meals.

But as time went on, her disapproval became more vocal and pointed.

“How can you call yourself a wife when other women take care of your man?” she’d say, her voice dripping with disdain. “A woman’s place is in the kitchen, not some office desk, girl.”

Then she’d launch into a rant about how she was an “obedient” housewife who took care of her husband and children from dawn to dusk, her tiny world revolving around them. How she didn’t hire any housekeeper like I did.

She’d go on and on about how she always had a hot meal ready when her husband came home, how she kept their house spotless, and how she sacrificed her own dreams for the sake of her family.

Now, I’m not saying Joyce was entirely wrong. I respect women who choose to be homemakers. It’s a tough job that often goes unappreciated.

But we weren’t living in the 70s or 80s anymore. Times have changed, and so have expectations. Alvin and I were partners… equals. We shared household responsibilities and supported each other’s careers.

I didn’t care about Joyce’s opinion, and she knew it. Maybe that’s why she decided to take matters into her own hands and ruin my career.

It was a Tuesday, I remember clearly.

The boutique was bustling with activity. We had a big wedding party coming in for fittings, and I was in the middle of coordinating everything. That’s when my boss, Mr. Lincoln, called me into his office.

As I entered, he had a strange expression on his face.

He placed a check in front of me and asked, “Tina, how did you upset a customer so badly that this poor old lady is willing to pay me hundreds of dollars—two thousand bucks, to be exact—just to get you fired?”

I was stunned. My mind raced through all my recent customer interactions, trying to pinpoint where I could have gone so terribly wrong. I hadn’t had any conflicts with customers lately.

In fact, our customer satisfaction ratings were at an all-time high. It must have been a mistake.

I was ready to defend myself, to ask for more details about this supposed complaint.

But then I saw the name written on the check. Suddenly, it all made sense.

It was my mother-in-law’s name, written in her unmistakable cursive handwriting. I just froze, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Joyce would stoop so low as to try to bribe my boss to fire me, all to make me a “BETTER WIFE”??

I was stunned.

If my MIL was ready to go that low, I decided I could go lower.

I quickly explained my situation to Mr. Lincoln, showing him a family photo with Joyce on my phone. He listened intently, his expression softening as he understood the bizarre situation I was in.

“I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this, Tina,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re one of our best employees. I have no intention of firing you, regardless of any, um, monetary incentives.” He chuckled awkwardly. “But maybe we can use this situation to teach your mother-in-law a lesson?”

I nodded, a plan already forming in my mind as I snapped a quick picture of the check.

“Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. I think I know exactly what to do,” I said, smiling.

That evening, I went home and explained everything to Alvin. At first, he didn’t believe it. “My Mom did what?” he exclaimed, his face etched with shock and embarrassment.

But as I showed him the picture I’d taken of the check, reality sank in.

“I’m so sorry, Tina,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I knew my Mom was old-fashioned, but this… this is crossing a line. What do you want to do?”

I explained my plan to him. It was a bit devious, perhaps even a little cruel, but I felt it was necessary. Joyce needed to understand the consequences of her actions and the importance of respecting other people’s choices.

Alvin agreed to help me, although I could see the conflict in his eyes. He loved his mother, but he also knew she was wrong.

That weekend, we visited Joyce for dinner. As we sat around her meticulously set dining table, I put on my best sad face.

“Joyce,” I said, my voice quivering slightly, “I have some bad news. I… I’ve been laid off.”

My MIL remained quiet for a moment, taking a sip of her wine. Then she said, “Oh, Tina, that’s bad news. But I’m glad you’ll be home full-time to take care of the house and my son!”

I offered a weak smile as Alvin gently squeezed my hand under the table.

The gleam of satisfaction in Joyce’s eyes made my blood boil, but I kept my cool. This was just the beginning.

Two days later, it was Joyce’s 68th birthday. Time to take my plan to level two.

I sent her a postcard reading, “Happy birthday, Joyce. We were going to get you a diamond necklace, but we can’t afford it now that I’m laid off. Hope these flowers are enough!”

Joyce stayed eerily quiet. She didn’t call or text us, and she even skipped her usual weekend visit, claiming she had guests. Perfect.

That weekend, we decided to up the ante. We visited her unannounced, and this time, Alvin joined the act.

As we sat in Joyce’s immaculate living room, Alvin dropped the bombshell.

“Mom,” he said, his voice heavy with fake worry, “I’ve got some bad news too. I… I’ve been laid off as well. The company’s downsizing, and well…” He trailed off, looking dejected.

Joyce’s eyes widened in shock. “What? But… but how will you manage?”

I chimed in, “Actually, Joyce, that’s why we’re here. We were wondering… could we stay with you until we find new jobs? We can’t afford our rent anymore, and well, family supports each other during tough times, right?”

The color drained from Joyce’s face, and she started to panic.

“Stay here? But… but I don’t have enough room! And what about your apartment? Your things?”

Alvin pushed further, saying, “Why not, Mom? You always said family should stick together. Tina and I are moving in with you tomorrow, and that’s final!”

Joyce’s perfectly manicured hands trembled as she set down her teacup. “I… I need to make a phone call,” she stammered, rushing out of the room.

Alvin and I exchanged knowing glances. We could hear Joyce’s muffled voice from the other room, growing increasingly agitated. She was talking to her friend.

After a few minutes, she returned, looking thoroughly chastened.

“Tina, Alvin,” she began, her voice small, “I have a confession to make. I… I did something terrible. I tried to get Tina fired. I thought… I thought it would be better for your marriage if she stayed home. I was wrong. I’m so sorry. I’ll call your boss right away, Tina. I’ll make this right.”

With slow, deliberate claps, I revealed that I had never been fired at all.

Joyce’s face fell, and her eyes widened as I explained that this was all a ruse to expose her actions and show her the importance of dual income in a modern family.

“Joyce,” I said, “I understand that you come from a different time, with different values. But times have changed. Alvin and I are partners. We support each other’s dreams and careers. My job isn’t just about money… it’s about fulfillment, about contributing to society in my own way. Just like you found fulfillment in being a homemaker, I find it in my career. Neither choice is wrong; they’re just different.”

Joyce was guilt-ridden and apologized profusely. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized the extent of her actions and how they could have affected our lives.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” she admitted. “I was so caught up in how things should be, I didn’t stop to consider how they are. Can you ever forgive me?”

I reached out and took her hand. “Of course, Joyce. But you need to understand – Alvin and I make our own choices. We’re adults, and we’re happy with our life. Your support would mean the world to us, but if you can’t give that, at least respect our decisions.”

Alvin added, “Mom, we love you. But Tina is my wife, my partner. Her happiness is my happiness. Please try to understand that.”

Joyce nodded, wiping her tears. “I promise I’ll try. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Since then, Joyce’s nagging has completely stopped, and our relationship has improved significantly. She’s even started asking me about my work, showing genuine interest in my career.

I’m glad things got sorted instead of blowing up into a full-fledged daughter-in-law versus mother-in-law war. Sometimes, a little dose of their own medicine is all it takes to open someone’s eyes.

Here’s another story: When her daughter-in-law mocked and age-shamed her for posting a swimsuit photo from her vacation, 68-year-old Patsy decided to teach her an unforgettable lesson about self-worth and respect.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.