One evening, as my 14-year-old son Ben came home, I could immediately tell something was wrong. He looked unusually quiet, a stark contrast to his usual lively self. He slumped onto the couch, his hands still wet from washing a car, and didn’t even look my way.
“Hey, bud, what’s going on?” I asked from the kitchen, where I was preparing his favorite meal. His silence worried me. Ben was a hardworking kid and had recently started earning some money for himself, something he took pride in. But tonight, something was clearly off.
After a long pause, he finally muttered, “Mom, Mr. Peterson didn’t pay me.”
I was taken aback. Ben had been washing our neighbor’s car every week for the past month, and he was supposed to get $50 per wash. “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“He said the car wasn’t spotless enough, so he’s not paying me,” Ben explained, frustration evident in his voice.
Hearing this, my anger started to rise. Mr. Peterson, our arrogant neighbor, had always been proud of his fancy car and his inflated ego. When he saw how well Ben washed our car, he asked him to do the same for his, promising to pay him every week. Little did I know, it was all a ploy to get cheap labor.
“So, you’ve been washing his car every week this month?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Ben nodded, sinking deeper into the couch. He had spent hours making sure Mr. Peterson’s car was spotless, even vacuuming the interior by hand. And now, all his hard work had been dismissed with a flimsy excuse.
“How much does he owe you?” I asked.
“Two hundred dollars,” Ben replied after doing the math in his head.
Without hesitation, I pulled out the cash and handed it to him. His eyes widened in surprise. “But, Mom, you don’t have to pay me! Mr. Peterson was supposed to!”
“I know, sweetheart. And don’t worry, I’m not done with Mr. Peterson yet,” I said, already formulating a plan. Mr. Peterson had no idea what was coming.
The next morning, I went outside, where I found him obsessively polishing his car in his usual silk pajamas. With a big smile, I walked over and greeted him warmly. “Good morning, Mr. Peterson!”
His smug grin told me he wasn’t expecting what was about to happen. “Morning, Irene. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to talk about Ben’s payment for washing your car. He mentioned you weren’t satisfied with his work yesterday,” I said, keeping my tone pleasant.
He crossed his arms and said, “Yeah, Irene, I didn’t think it was worth paying him. The car wasn’t perfect, and it’s important to teach young men these lessons early.”
I kept my cool, though I was seething inside. “A learning experience, huh? Well, Ben told me you agreed to pay him $50 for each wash. And you know what? I have pictures of the car after each wash. He was proud of his work and sent the photos to his grandfather.”
Mr. Peterson’s face faltered for a moment. “Pictures?” he stammered.
“Yes, pictures,” I said firmly. “And I’m pretty sure breaking a verbal agreement isn’t just unfair—it’s a breach of contract. I wonder how this would play out if I discussed it with my lawyer?”
He looked panicked, and sweat started to form on his perfect forehead. “There’s no need for that!” he quickly replied, rushing to pull out his wallet. He fumbled through some crumpled bills and handed me the $200.
I smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Mr. Peterson. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. But let’s be clear—my son won’t be washing your car again.”
As I walked back into the house, Ben was waiting in disbelief. “You actually did it!” he exclaimed, holding a bowl of cereal.
“No one messes with my son,” I said, feeling proud. “Next time someone tries to cheat you, you’ll know exactly how to stand up for yourself.”
Ben grinned. “Does this mean I have to give you the $200 back?”
I laughed. “No, but how about taking me out to lunch today?”
“Deal, Mom,” he said, with a wide smile.
Later that afternoon, while we were sitting at a cozy café, Ben noticed a “Help Wanted” sign at the ice cream shop across the street. “What do you think, Mom? Maybe a weekend job?”
I smiled and took a bite of my burger. “Go for it,” I said. “Just remember, if the boss gives you trouble, you know who to call.”
Ben grinned and nodded, knowing that no matter what, I’d always have his back.
