He called again. And again. And again.
I turned my phone on silent and poured myself a glass of wine. I watched as his follower count started dropping. Hundreds at a time.
The following morning, someone was pounding on my door. I looked through the peephole. Scott was standing there, face red, phone clutched in his hand.
I opened the door. “What did you do?!”
“I forgot I was still logged into Instagram on your iPad. You posted all that crap pretending to be me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe next time, don’t cheat and leave your passwords behind.”
“You ruined me!
SEVEN brands dropped me yesterday! TWO are threatening to sue me for breach of contract!”
I leaned against the doorframe. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?
Amy, you destroyed my career!”
“You destroyed my bank account. My trust. My Valentine’s Day.
And my dignity.”
“And I had $6K charged to my card while you were screwing someone else in a room I paid for.”
He stared at me, breathing hard. “You need to take those posts down. Right now.”
“Or what?”
His phone rang.
Scott looked at the screen, and his face went pale. He answered, putting it on speaker without thinking. “Hello?
Yes, this is Scott. No, I…”
A man’s voice exploded through the speaker. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!”
“Sir, I can explain…”
“WE SENT YOU A $50,000 CAMPAIGN, AND YOU POSTED THAT OUR PRODUCT SMELLS LIKE GARBAGE AND REGRET?!”
Scott’s hand was shaking.
“I didn’t write that! I swear, someone hacked my account…”
“I don’t care who wrote it! It’s on your account with YOUR name!
We’re pulling the contract, demanding our products back, and pursuing legal action for damages!”
The line went dead. Scott looked at me, his face crumbling. “You destroyed me.”
“Nope!
You did! The second you decided to use me, dump me, and celebrate with someone else using MY money.”
“When? After you charged another three thousand?
After you finished your little vacation?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Nothing came out.
I picked up a box of his things and handed it to him. “Take your stuff and get out. And hey, maybe change your Instagram password next time.
Oh, and don’t forget to log out of all devices!”
His phone rang again. Another angry voice. “Scott, what the hell is going on with your account?!
I’m looking at a post where you’re bragging about using your girlfriend’s money?!”
He grabbed the box and walked down the hallway, yelling into his phone. I closed the door. That afternoon, I checked Instagram.
Scott had deleted the posts. But it was too late. Screenshots were everywhere.
People were sharing them, laughing, commenting, roasting him publicly. His follower count had dropped by 5K. His brand deals were gone.
His reputation was in ruins. And I? I was sitting on my couch, eating ice cream, scrolling through the chaos I’d created.
Some heartbreaks end in tears. Mine ended with brand cancellations, screaming clients, and a very satisfying “log out of all devices.”
If this happened to you, what would you do? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the Facebook comments.
