Our Neighbor Stole Our Package and Demanded Payment for the Scraps – Karma Doubled the Price

Neighbor Took Our Package, Used the Contents, and Wanted Us to Pay for the Scraps — Karma Made Him Pay Twice as Much

The makeover of our living room took an unanticipated turn when our pricy, environmentally friendly paint disappeared and turned up in the hands of our cunning neighbor. He had no idea that justice would be given in the most satisfying manner—karma was about to guarantee it.

It began with our renovation job at home. I had made the decision to redesign the living room with my wife, Karen. We ordered this pricey, eco-friendly paint since we wanted everything to be perfect and we had a precise goal in mind. Although it was quite expensive, we felt that the aesthetic and environmental advantages outweighed the expense.

Karen stated, “We should have the paint by Tuesday,” as she examined the order confirmation. Her anticipation glistened in her eyes. “I can’t wait to get started!”

“Me neither,” I said, echoing her enthusiasm. “That paint is supposed to be the best on the market.”

The paint did not appear on Tuesday. Throughout the day, I kept checking the doorstep, but it was still unoccupied. I decided to check with the delivery company after becoming concerned.

Telling the customer care agent, “Hello, I ordered some paint, and it was supposed to arrive today,”

Politely, “Let me check that for you,” she answered. She replied after a little silence, saying, “Our records show it was delivered this morning.”

I murmured, “But there’s nothing here,” with a hint of annoyance in my voice.

With grace, she said, “Maybe check with your neighbors?”

I hung up after thanking her, but I was still not at all satisfied. I went over to our neighbor Mrs. Thompson and knocked on her door, determined to unravel the mystery.

“Hi, Mrs. Thompson,” I said with warmth. “Did you see a delivery for us by any chance?”

“No, sweetheart, I haven’t,” she apologised. “I hope you find it.”

I went around the neighborhood, asking a few other people if they had seen or gotten our paint, but none had. I became even more frustrated and perplexed with each negative response.

A few days later, with a postcard tightly clenched in her hand, Karen ran into the kitchen.

She gave it to me, her eyes bright, saying, “Look at this!” It came from Mr. Jenkins, our neighbor.

I said out loud, “Extra premium eco-friendly paint for sale.” “Delivered to me by mistake, used some, selling the rest at a generous discount.”

“That’s our paint!” Karen sobbed, her voice a mixture of indignation and shock. “He took it!”

I mumbled, “I can’t believe this,” as I felt my temper flare. “I’m going to talk to him right now.”

Taking the postcard with me, I strode toward Mr. Jenkins’ residence, my strides propelled by a mixture of anxiety and resolve. I knocked on his door, and he arrived with a cunning smile a few moments later.

“Hello there,” he said, his gaze darting to the postcard. “Interested in some paint?”

I tried not to cry. “Actually, Mr. Jenkins, I think that’s our paint.” “It was supposed to be delivered to us last Tuesday.”

His smile wavered a little. He scratched his head, acting confused, and said, “Oh, is that so?” “Well, it has arrived. I’ve already used a portion of it. The remainder will cost you money if you want it.”

My ears were so unbelievable to me. I was getting impatient and argued, “Mr. Jenkins, that paint belongs to us,”

Casting a stubborn eyebrow, he questioned, “Can you prove it?” “Because it’s mine if you can’t. You’ll have to pay for what’s left, as I already mentioned.”

I cried out, “Show me the paint,” attempting to maintain my composure. “I want to see it.”

With reluctance, he moved aside and murmured, “Fine, come in.” With a sinking heart, I entered his home with the intention of confronting him more.

Mr. Jenkins took me inside to his garage, where a number of paint cans were neatly placed up against the wall. I instantly recognized the unique labeling. It’s true that he accepted our order, but he was so bold as to utilize some of it and try to sell the rest.

“Observe? He smirked, “I’ve got the paint right here.

I inhaled deeply, knowing there was no use in trying to argue with him. “Hold it. I hope you find it entertaining.”

“Oh, I will,” he smiled. “Thanks for stopping by.”

I was disappointed and angry at the same time when I left his place. How could somebody be so dishonest? At home, Karen was waiting for me, and she was as angry when I told her what had happened.

With her hands up, she questioned, “That’s it?” “He just gets away with it?”

“It appears so,” I retorted while taking a seat. “There’s nothing we can do.”

After a few weeks, Mr. Jenkins was bragging to everyone about his freshly painted living room. One by one, he brought his neighbors over to see his creations. He was showing off how much money he had saved by utilizing the expensive paint and how gorgeous it was.

“Please come in,” he would greet visitors. “This is my updated living room. Isn’t that fantastic?

He would seem arrogant as he absorbed the compliments from others. He would always offer me a small smile, as if he knew he had won.

Jenkins, you did a great job,” Mr. Thompson once commented. “Where did you get that paint?”

“Well, just a fortuitous error,” Jenkins winked in response. “Saved a bundle on it.”

Then karma happened. I saw Mr. Jenkins outdoors one afternoon, looking irritated. He was conversing with someone on the phone.

He cried, “This paint is peeling off the walls!” “I need someone to come and fix it.”

It appears that he did not thoroughly prepare the walls before painting. Our beautiful paint was beginning to flake, and it looked terrible. His delight and pride were degenerating into calamity.

A few days later, I heard him conversing with Mrs. Green, another neighbor.

Shaking his head, he added, “I can’t believe this.” “I have to repaint the whole living room.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Mrs. Green answered. “Didn’t you use that fancy paint?”

He said, “Yes, but it started peeling.” “And now it is twice as much. Re-doing it will be extremely expensive for me.”

I couldn’t resist grinning. At last, karma was catching up with him. The cost of the paint had increased since our first purchase, and Mr. Jenkins had to place additional orders. For him, what had once been a decent transaction had turned into an expensive error.

And it continued after that. He made the decision to have the work redone by a professional because he had made a mistake the first time. After what transpired, he no longer trusted himself with another do-it-yourself job.

The painter said, “Hello, I’m here to repaint your living room.”

Mr. Jenkins said, “Yes, come in,” with a defeated expression. “Just make sure it doesn’t peel this time.”

The rumor of Mr. Jenkins’s tragedy was circulating around the neighborhood. Nobody was sympathetic to him. Indeed, the majority of people believed he received what was just.

One neighbor asked another, “Did you hear about Jenkins?” “He had to hire a professional to fix his mess.”

“That’s right,” the other person said. “He shouldn’t have taken that paint in the first place.”

Seeing Mr. Jenkins experience the consequences of his own deeds was the ideal example of karma. It was pleasant enough to see him suffer for his dishonest behavior, even though I never got my paint back.

I smiled knowingly at him every time I saw him after that. It served as a subdued reminder that, on occasion, you truly do get what you sow. What about Mr. Jenkins? To put it mildly, he’s very much off the radar these days.

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