Neighbor Refused to Pay My Son for His Hard Work – So I Taught Him an Important Lesson

Neighbor Asked My Son to Wash His Car for a Month, Then Refused to Pay – I Taught Him a Lesson of My Own

Irene demands to know why her son Ben, who appears irritated, enters their house. She discovers, when the youngster starts talking, that their arrogant neighbor has not paid Ben for the month of vehicle washes he has been doing for him. Is this mother going to act independently?

When Ben entered the room that Friday night, I knew something was amiss. There was none of the normal light in his eyes, and he was stumbling.

He plopped onto the couch without making eye contact, his hands still wet, likely from wringing off the towels after washing another car.

“Hey, bud, what’s going on?” From the kitchen, I called.

For supper, I was going to prepare his favorite dish, grilled chicken and mashed potatoes. As soon as he entered, I was going to prepare his meal.

But now that I was staring at him, I was concerned. Ben was just 14 years old when he first experienced earning money and desired independence.

I murmured, “Come on,” as I wiped my hands. “You can tell me anything!”

He looked at the ground and didn’t respond for a moment. The look of frustration on his face made my heart sink.

It seemed as though he was searching for the right words but was unsure of how to express them.

Ben murmured, “He… he didn’t pay me,” at last.

“What are you trying to say? You were supposed to get $50 every time you washed Mr. Peterson’s car, right? I felt my own brow furrow as I asked.

Ben sighed, a sound much too hefty for a fourteen-year-old.

Yes, but he told me that the car wasn’t’spotless’ and that I wouldn’t get paid after I completed washing it today for the fourth time this month. Not at all! I should have performed better if I wanted my money, he said.

My fists began to clench. Our cocky neighbor, Mr. Peterson, who never lacked a clever thing to say. He made sure everyone could see how shiny his priceless black Jeep was as he walked around in his outfits.

He used to lean out of his automobile and say, “It’s a beautiful car, isn’t it?” “Stunning!”

He started showing interest in Ben a few months ago, particularly when he saw Ben wash my car.

“Whoa! Ben, you did a fantastic job fixing your mom’s automobile! Do you think I should wash my car every Friday? You’ll get paid, of course!”

I took that as a complement at first, but now I recognize it for what it truly was:

A means to take advantage of inexpensive labor.

“You’ve been washing that car every week this month, haven’t you?” Even though I knew the answer, I still asked.

Ben sank further down the couch and nodded.

“Yes, for the last four weeks, I’ve spent roughly three hours making sure it was clean. I even vacuumed everything by hand, including underneath the seats. However, he said that I wasn’t deserving of payment.

My chest began to flush with rage.

I knew Ben had performed admirably. I was always really impressed with him whenever he worked on our automobile. In any case, after my son finished using Mr. Peterson’s car, it shone like a showroom model.

The cleanliness of the car wasn’t the point. No, sir. It has to do with Mr. Peterson’s rudeness.

And now?

Ben now felt that all of his hard work had been for nothing.

I inquired, “How much does he owe you?”

Ben paused to reflect.

“Mom, four washes. $200, then.

Taking out my wallet, I counted two hundred crisp notes. His eyes widened in surprise as I gave it to him.

“Here, you earned this, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to, Mom. “Mr. Peterson was supposed to pay me!” he cried.

I interrupted him by shaking my head.

“Honey, I’m not finished with Mr. Peterson. He has no right to treat you in this manner and then turn away.

Ben’s gaze darted from the cash in his fingers to me, as if he was unsure.

“But, Mom!”

Ben took a seat at the table and grinned.

“Thanks, Mom,” he grinned.

I had a plan when I got up the following morning. Mr. Peterson was unaware of what was about to happen. Indeed, he was standing in his silk pajamas, methodically polishing his Jeep like a man fascinated, when I looked out the window.

Grinning, I went outdoors and walked amiably toward him while wearing my yoga attire.

“Good morning, Mr. Peterson!” I enthusiastically yelled out.

His typical arrogant smirk was already on his face as he looked up from his car.

He said, “Morning, Irene,” “How may I help you? But hurry up, I’m having brunch with the family shortly.”

I had the option to roll my eyes.

“Oh, not much. Regarding Ben’s payment for washing your car, I just wanted to inquire,” I remarked. “He mentioned you weren’t satisfied with his work yesterday.”

Mr. Peterson crossed his arms and straightened his spine.

Yes, Irene, you are correct. I didn’t think he should be paid because the car wasn’t perfect. You know, it’s an educational experience. In any case, he is a young man. He must be humbled by the world.

Even when my wrath from the previous evening resurfaced, I maintained a neutral expression and even smiled a little.

“A learning experience, huh?” I stated. “Interesting. Ben did tell me that you were a man of your word. He also said that you promised to give him $50 for each wash, no matter how immaculate. You wouldn’t believe it! I have the photos he took of the vehicle following each wash.

A small break appeared in the smugness on his face.

“Pictures?” Mr. Peterson inquired.

“Yes, images. After each wash, he delighted in mailing them to his grandfather. He takes great pride in his work.

Mr. Peterson let out a grunt.

In any case, I believe a verbal agreement was reached. And shattering that? That’s a contract violation, isn’t it? Should I discuss this with my attorney?

He lost the color in his face.

He said, “There’s no need for all that!”

I extended a hand.

“Well, I believe there is. You see, Ben put in a lot of work, and you’re attempting to take away from him what he earned. Here’s the deal, then. I’ll make sure everyone in the neighborhood knows how you treat the children who work for you if you don’t give my son the $200 today.”

He merely gazed at me.

“And if that doesn’t convince you, I’m more than happy to take legal action,” I said.

Now I could see the panic creep into his face. All of a sudden, the neighbor who had the ideal Jeep and the ideal lawn was drenched in sweat.

He fished for his wallet and hurriedly counted out the cash after opening the car door.

He said, “Here’s your money,” and gave him $200 in crumpled bills.

Fantastic. I smiled and added, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. “But please, understand that my son will not touch a car of yours again.”

He gave a sad nod.

When I walked in, Ben got up from the couch. When I gave him the money, his eyes grew wide, and he was holding a bowl of cereal.

He said, “You actually did it!”

With a tremendous sense of pride, I smiled.

I remarked, “No one messes with my son,” “Especially when they believe they can avoid paying the debt. You’ll know just how to respond the next time someone attempts to pull a stunt like that.”

“Does this mean that I have to give you the $200 back?” he said.

“No,” I chuckled. “But I think you can take me out on a mother-son date for lunch today?”

The words “Deal, Mom,” he said.

Later, Ben leaned over his chair and squinted at the sign from the ice cream shop across the street when we were seated at a charming cafe.

“Help wanted,” he said that. “What are your thoughts, Mother? A job at an ice cream shop on the weekends?”

I chuckled and started eating my burger. “Go for it,” I said. “But if the boss is mean, you know who to call.”

After giving me a slow nod and grinning, my son picked up a fry.

How would you have responded in that situation?