Entitled Neighbor Crossed the Line with My Sick Grandpa—So I Showed Her How to Mind Her Business

Entitled Neighbor Vandalized My Sick Grandpa’s Car – I Taught Her to Mind Her Own Business

I was furious when I noticed the harsh statement written on my healing grandpa’s dusty automobile. But identifying the offender was only the first step. I was about to give this conceited neighbor a lesson she would never forget.

My phone rang when I was at work two months ago. Mom was there.

The words, “Meg, it’s Grandpa,” came out very weakly. “A hospital is where he is. He—”

“What? Hospital?” I interrupted her, completely uninformed. “What happened?”

“He had a heart attack,” Mom said, her voice faltering. “We gotta go see him.”

“Oh my God, Mom, is he okay?”

“I don’t know, Meg…”

“Mom, I promise to be there as soon as possible,” I answered, hastily closing my work email.

The truth is, Grandpa Alvin is my world-wide favorite, my confidant, and my rock. Saying that I adore him more than Mom won’t be incorrect. Be quiet! It’s not public knowledge!

And Mom’s phone call had completely flipped my universe. I told my boss about Grandpa’s condition and as soon as I left my office, I felt a knot in my gut.

I can barely remember my commute home from work. My memory of how I got there is hazy, but I scooped Mom up shortly before we had to head to the hospital.

It took us roughly forty-five minutes to get to the hospital from our place. And let me tell you, those forty-five minutes were the most agonizing and prolonged of my life. Mom continued to cry the whole time, and I could feel my heart racing.

A nurse informed us that Grandpa was in the operating room when we arrived. The doctor finally emerged after what seemed like an eternity.

“The surgery was successful, but he needs rest and care,” he stated to us. He must have a diet low in saturated fats and sodium that is good for his heart. Frequent, low-impact exercise is essential. and without any tension at all.”

“Okay, doctor,” I gave a nod. “But when can we see him?”

“Is he really okay?” Mom asked hurriedly.

“You’re fine,” the physician comforted her. “At the moment, he is soundly asleep. When is a suitable time to visit, the nurses will advise you.”

A few days later, Grandpa was finally permitted to return home, but there was a catch. Since he lives in a different town, we are unable to care for him on a daily basis.

We consequently employed a full-time nurse.

She agreed to cook for him too, which was a blessing. Grandpa stayed inside his flat for two months, concentrating only on getting better.

I realized last week that it was too long since I’d seen him.

“This weekend, I’m going to visit Grandpa,” I told my mother over breakfast. Would you like to attend?”

Her eyes gleamed.

She grinned and said, “That’s a wonderful idea, honey.” “I’ll accompany you. He will be overjoyed to see us.”

“Perfect!” I said, just before biting into my cooked eggs.

I got up early on Saturday, picked up a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers, Grandpa’s favorite color, and took Mom to his house by car.

I was eager to see him and watch the joy on his face. I had no idea what was in store for us there, other than a day filled with Grandpa’s stories.

I saw his ancient, beat-up automobile as soon as we arrived into his apartment complex’s parking area. He hadn’t driven it since being ill, as shown by the heavy coating of dust covering it.

But something made my blood boil as we drew nearer.

There was a message on the back windshield from someone. It appeared as though they had handwritten it. It appeared new.

It said, “YOU ARE A DIRTY PIG! ” Either clean up your car or leave the neighborhood. “Fear! Fear! Fear!”

I was enraged beyond measure. An elderly man who has been too ill to do much more than lie in bed or clean his automobile could not have been treated with such cruelty.

“Oh my God,” Mom exclaimed. “Who would do such a thing?”

I balled up my hands. My cheeks were burning with anger.

“Some entitled jerk with nothing better to do than harass a sick old man, that’s who.”

I felt Mom’s gentle hand resting on my arm.

She said, “Honey, calm down.” “Let’s not upset your grandfather.”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to gather my thoughts.

“You’re accurate. Come with me to visit him.”

We made our way up to Grandpa’s flat swiftly. I waited for him to open the door as I rang the bell.

“My girls!” he exclaimed, beaming broadly. “What a wonderful surprise!”

“Grandpa!” I gave him a strong hug. “You look fantastic! So attractive!”

He laughed, “Well, of course I do!” “I’ve never looked better than I do. I was making eye contact left and right, even in my hospital gown!”

I kept thinking about the nasty note on his car as we made our way inside. That image would not go from my head.

“Megan? Dear, are you hearing me?” It was Grandpa’s voice that brought me back to earth.

I apologize, Grandpa. I was only pondering. What state are you in?”

We talked for a while, but I couldn’t help but think about that message. I have to take action over it.

I got up and said, “Hey, I need to take care of something real quick.” Could you stay with Grandpa, Mom? I’ll return in a short while.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mom replied.

I quickly made my way to the security office by the door, where I saw a man who appeared to be bored working behind the counter.

“I apologize,” I said. “I need to see the security camera footage from the parking lot.”

He straightened his back and raised an eyebrow.

“I apologize, ma’am. To everybody who asks, we can’t just show that.”

I lowered my voice and leaned closer.

“This is where my granddad resides. He’s been in critical condition, and his automobile was vandalized with a terrible message. I have to find out who did that.

After hesitating, the guard nodded.

“Alright, just this once.”

As we were watching the video from the previous several days, I noticed an elderly, pretentious-looking woman walking approaching Grandpa’s automobile. She wrote the terrible message on his automobile very slowly.

“Who is this?” I enquired with the guard.

“That’s Briana from 4C,” he affirmed. “Always causing trouble.”

He stopped me as I turned to leave after thanking him.

“But wait, there’s more.” Last week, I heard some neighbors conversing in the lobby. It seems that your grandfather has been receiving rough treatment from this Briana woman for some months.”

I questioned, “What do you mean?”

He gave his chin a deliberate scratch.

They said, however, that she has been whining about everything. For example, she would become upset if his welcome mat was crooked or if his newspaper was left outside for too long. Even more absurdly, one of the women mentioned that Briana attempted to get your grandfather punished for owning a potted plant that was “an unapproved color.”

“Are you serious? Why is no one taking action on this?

“I guess most people just try to stay away from her,” he shrugged.

“Your grandfather is too kind to give it much attention. However, I believe that everyone is becoming somewhat tired of her attitude, even myself.”

Yes, my grandfather is kind, but I’m not, I told myself as I strode directly to Briana’s apartment.

I knocked on the door, and it quickly opened.

She said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Alvin’s granddaughter,” I murmured, straining to maintain consistent tone. “I observed your writing on his vehicle. You don’t have the right to treat him so poorly!”

“I don’t give a damn,” she said. “If he can’t keep up with community standards, maybe he shouldn’t be living here.”

She slammed the door in my face after that.

I was furious. I made the decision to handle things on my own since it was obvious that speaking with her would not resolve the issue. I thought of a way to discipline her. All I needed was a piece of evidence-containing paper and a roll of duct tape.

The following day, I made sure Briana’s face was visible on the security camera film, took a screenshot, and had it printed. I then wrote the following in large, bold letters: “SHAME! SHAME! SHAME! Older neighbors are being abused by the lady from apartment 4C.

I put that sign up where everyone could see it—straight inside the elevator. What she’d done and who she was were both quite evident.

The entire building was buzzing within a day.

Briana was the talk of the complex, but not in the way she hoped, since people began to give her the cold shoulder.

A few days later, I went to see Grandpa once more. I heard two old women chatting as I passed through the foyer.

Someone asked, “Did you hear about Briana?” “Apparently, she’s been harassing poor Alvin for months!”

“Horrible,” the other person retorted. “I always thought she was a busybody, but this is a new low.”

I gave myself a small smile. Justice was done.

I went upstairs and Grandpa gave me a hug.

“Megan, my love! You’re starting to come here fairly frequently.”

“Just making sure you’re behaving yourself, old man.” I grinned. “How are you?”

Yeah, I’m an ideal angel. Not like some of the individuals here. Have you heard about Briana’s drama?

I pretended not to know.

“Oh? What took place?”

Grandpa leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone.

“A placard revealing her rude behavior was put up by someone. The entire building is now hostile toward her. I say that serves her right.”

I pretended to be astonished as I nodded.

He’s still unaware that it was me.

I learned from that experience that sometimes you have to put out fire with fire. People who disrespect others, such as Braina, cannot be treated with kindness.

If you had been in my position, how would you have responded?