Author’s Note:
I posted a note recently wishing I believed in karma. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I’d actually want that. This story is what happened.
The first time I saw the ad in my search results, I snickered and scrolled past.
Karma Support Line, Inc. ⚖️
Have you ever wished that people got what they deserved? At Karma Support Line, that’s exactly what we deliver.Purchase one of our premium support packages today and see karmic justice in action!
But the ad kept popping up in my feed — not just search results, but social media, news and articles, job sites… everywhere. After a week of frequent sightings, I mentioned it to my friend, Lila, after her boss had thrown her under the bus. He’d ordered her to change the terms on a contract, and when the deal was rejected, he’d blamed her to their management team.
“Maybe you should buy that Karma Support Line thing they’re advertising to death.”
She just looked at me in confusion. Turned out she hadn’t seen the ads at all. So I mentioned it to someone else, but he hadn’t seen them either. That was… strange. So I searched for references to the ad on social media, but all that did was make me see the ad even more.
Apparently no one was talking about it.
And that was just plain weird. So I finally clicked on it. The website was professional and friendly, and the pricing for the three tiers seemed quite reasonable.
🥈Silver Tier - $9.99 a month
Report one incident per month and get karmic satisfaction. Includes both positive and negative consequences for up to two recipients. Results do not include creation or destruction of life, chronic or terminal illness, or illegal outcomes.
🥇Gold Tier - $19.99 a month
Report up to three incidents per month and get karmic satisfaction. Includes both positive and negative consequences for up to five recipients. Results do not include creation or destruction of life.
🌟Platinum Tier - $39.99 a month
Report up to five incidents per month and get karmic satisfaction. Includes both positive and negative consequences for up to 15 recipients. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right,” I smirked. But I was also… curious. I mean, what could they actually be selling, especially with a guarantee of satisfaction?
So I checked the Better Business Bureau. The company — Karma Support Line, Inc. — was listed as being in good standing. In fact, it had a platinum rating for customer satisfaction.
In the end, my curiosity won. Because if it was legit, the idea of being able to see actual fairness in the world? That was too good to pass up. So I purchased a Silver Tier plan for one month and started trying to figure out who to report.
A few days later, my first candidate presented themselves. I was at a bar with some friends, and I was the one left holding the tab when the others filed out. It was fine; it was my turn to pay. But I couldn’t find my purse — turned out I’d left it in my friend’s car. I had cash, but I was $1.46 short on the bill with nothing left for a tip.
The waitress was irritated, and a nice woman at a nearby table gave me a $10 bill. I offered to take her information and pay her back, but she just smiled and brushed me off. My new subscription popped into my head, so I asked her name.
“Stella Jacobsen,” she offered, along with her hand. I shook it, and thanked her profusely. Then I grabbed my uber and headed home to fill out the form for a karma request.
I don’t know how they did it, but from just her name and my description of the event, the Karma Support Line delivered on its guarantee.
Stella Jacobsen was a lottery winner two weeks later — $10 thousand dollars.
I upgraded my subscription to gold tier immediately.
And life went on. Honestly, I kinda forgot about the subscription for a while — it was just one of those silent deductions from my bank account. But a few months later, I was driving down the interstate, when a car veered in front of me from the onramp. I slammed on my brakes, but was unable to keep from rear-ending them.
It wasn’t a hard hit, and my car took the majority of the damage. And even though the law found me culpable, I knew the other car hadn’t yielded when entering the flow of traffic the way it was supposed to.
Then the driver — Henry Farley — claimed whiplash, and my insurance rates spiked dramatically.
I was infuriated. Especially since I was utterly convinced the other driver was lying. It seemed like a scam he might’ve pulled before.
So I filled out the form again. I described the situation and shared the driver’s name and insurance details — all the information I had from the accident.
Then I waited.
Six weeks later it happened. One of the alerts I’d set on my news app notified me that Henry Farley had been in another car accident. He’d rear-ended a semi and was in the hospital. His car was totaled. And there was a chance he’d never walk again.
My automatic reaction was a spike of intense satisfaction. It felt like… justice.
But it was followed almost immediately by a stab of guilt. Partial paralysis seemed like a serious escalation over insurance fraud.
The guilt sat like a heavy weight in my chest over the next several days, and I turned the situation over and over in my mind. Was it an overreaction? Should I complain to the company? Was it even my fault?
In the end, I couldn’t accept the uncertainty, so I sent an email to the support line.
To Whom It May Concern,
I recently submitted a karmic justice request for Henry Farley (ticket #KS49-7J2993). The request was in response to what I believed to be insurance fraud. However, the consequence applied by your organization appears to have escalated far beyond what seems a fair and just response. Recent reports indicate Mr. Farley may be paralyzed from the waist down.
I wish to know if this was intentional and if there is some justification for the escalation that I’m unaware of.
I look forward to your response.
I didn’t have to wait long for a response; their email arrived the next day.
Thank you for your communication. We always enjoy hearing from our clients, and we strive to ensure we are always meeting their karmic needs.
In response to your query on ticket #KS49-7J2993, our investigation division looked into Mr. Farley thoroughly before determining an appropriate karmic consequence. Upon discovering that Mr. Farley had performed the same maneuver up to seven times on other victims, we determined that the level of karmic response should account for all of those actions and not just his fraudulent attack on you.
We hope you understand our decision and can accept it. If not, please respond to this email, and we will attempt to address your concerns. Your satisfaction is guaranteed or your money back.
I read it twice. I wasn’t really surprised to learn I’d been right. The bastard had pulled the same scam several times and defrauded multiple people. Maybe he really had gotten what he deserved…
Despite that, the nagging guilt poked me repeatedly over the next few days, but I pushed it down again and again. This was literally what they did at the Karma Support Line — investigate, assess, and apply appropriate consequences. I had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
I reported only one incident in each of the following months — all positive experiences. I couldn’t quite shake the guilt that hovered when I thought about Mr. Farley’s outcome. I watched a coworker get a job offer at a fancy little start-up after I reported them supporting the whole team with extra effort. I saw a hospice worker who sat with my uncle in his final days get an anonymous grant to start his own hospice clinic.
The single mother two doors down who’d been struggling to free her family from an abusive ex met a doctor at the emergency room while getting her daughter’s broken arm treated. She’d said he was in the middle of a nasty divorce, and they were dating. She sounded happy.
All in all, I felt… good. Proud. Satisfied.
And just a little scared.
I couldn’t bring myself to report anything negative to the service. I didn’t want to think that I was the reason someone could be so badly hurt. I’d wanted fairness — justice. But it didn’t quite feel the way I’d imagined once it actually happened.
In truth, I was only tempted once. Matt Thomas — one of my coworkers who firmly believed he was superior to any woman who ever lived, except possibly his mother — took credit for a client presentation that sold big. I’d done nearly all the work to create it, but he had the ear of our manager. The next thing I knew, he was promoted to team lead, and I was reporting to him. A perfect setup for him to take credit the next time, too.
I was furious. The night it happened I pulled up the karma support form and stared at it for a long time. But in the end, I didn’t fill it out.
The next morning there was an email in my inbox from the company with a new ticket number.
I immediately sent a message.
To Whom It May Concern,
I received an email message from the support line this morning (ticket ##KS49-7K4129), but I did not submit a request. Please tell me what this ticket is in reference to.
As usual, their reply came swiftly — professional and courteous. And very certain.
Thank you for your communication. We always enjoy hearing from our clients, and we strive to ensure we are always meeting their karmic needs.
In response to your query on ticket #KS49-7K4129, your recent visit to our website indicated that you had some concerns. Our team investigated your situation and determined that a request was warranted. The matter has been submitted and will be resolved appropriately.
We hope you understand our decision. Your satisfaction is guaranteed, or your money back.
I stared silently at the email, then read it again. And again. I thought through my options. Should I just accept it? I had to admit the idea of Matt getting his comeuppance was… appealing. The guy definitely deserved some karmic justice.
But… what if they killed him or put him in prison or something? I didn’t think I could live with the guilt of that. Matt had a family who probably loved him. Admittedly, I couldn’t imagine loving such an asshat, but some people could be far more forgiving than I was.
The other option was to cancel my subscription.
And honestly, something about that scared me even more. I wasn’t sure exactly why, but the thought of canceling felt… ominous. What if they decided to come after me next?
I closed the email and moved on. Or at least, I told myself I did.
Over the next few days, I found it harder than usual to focus. Every interaction felt… dangerous somehow — like it mattered more than it should. I caught myself watching people more closely, found myself listening for tone and intent. Looking for malice in each action. Judging them.
After a week I’d convinced myself of two things. First, that I didn’t have enough information to make a decision yet. And second, that doing nothing wasn’t the same thing as agreeing.
It wasn’t my fault the company had acted on their own. When that thought settled into place, it felt like relief.
A few days later, Matt didn’t come into the office.
There was some vague explanation about a “family emergency” passed around the office. No details or speculation, at least not out loud. Our manager looked tense. Distracted.
I didn’t ask. Because I didn’t want to know.
Three days later, another email arrived with a new ticket number. I stared at it for a long time before opening it, wracking my brain to think who it could be for.
But this message was… different. There was no greeting, no cheerful appreciation for my “communication.” No customer service gloss at all.
Just a summary.
Ticket #KS49-7K4137
Subject: Ongoing Evaluation – Active ParticipantSummary of Observed Behavior:
Initial engagement driven by curiosity rather than necessity
Positive reinforcement loop established following reward-based outcome
Escalation tolerance increased after justified punitive outcome
Moral hesitation present but inconsistent
Externalization of responsibility noted (“system knows best”)
Continued engagement despite expressed ethical concerns
Status: Under Review
Next Steps: Determination of appropriate karmic response pendingWe look forward to your continued engagement.
I read the message once. Then again, but slower the second time. My name wasn’t listed anywhere in the document. Not explicitly. I guess it didn’t have to be.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the screen, trying to decide if this was some kind of mistake. Some automated misfire or a misrouted ticket.
But deep down I knew. This wasn’t about Matt. Or Stella. Or Henry Farley.
Maybe it never had been.
My first instinct was to reply to the message — to demand clarification or push back the way I had before. Maybe to remind them that I hadn’t submitted anything for Matt. I never agreed to whatever happened.
Hell, I’d submitted more positive karma tickets than negative! Why wasn’t that mentioned more in this latest ticket? Besides, why did they get to judge me at all? Did someone submit this ticket? Maybe I should submit a ticket about the service acting without my input.
In the end, my fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. Because I wasn’t entirely sure what was fair anymore.
A few minutes later my phone pinged with a new notification. A news alert. I stared at it for a long moment, then dismissed it without reading. I really didn’t want to know who it was about or what had happened. Or worse, whether it would feel… justified.
I suspected I already knew.
For a split second, I reminded myself that Matt had started it all. I shut that thought down immediately. Hard. Then I shook my head, swallowed hard, and closed my laptop.
My heartbeat was a heavy pounding in my chest, and my mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. And, for the first time since I’d clicked that ad, I tried — very carefully — not to think about anyone else at all. But I wasn’t sure it would matter.
My phone pinged again. I hesitated a moment before turning it face-down without looking.
‼️ If you liked this, check out some of my other psychological horror stories.
🐒 Did this story make you roll your eyes, cough, or raise a brow? If it did, buy me a cup of existential dread and maybe I’ll write a little more about outsourcing morality.
Pretty original, I like it!
Great work, Jen! I'm putting it in Ten Of The Best.