When my son Ben walked into the house that Friday evening, I knew right away something was wrong. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self. Instead, he looked defeated, his hands still wet from washing a car.
“Ben, what’s up?” I called from the kitchen, where I was preparing his favorite meal. He didn’t respond, just plopped onto the couch, looking miserable. Ben had just started working for our neighbor Mr. Peterson, washing his car every week for a month now, and I could tell something had gone wrong.
After a long pause, Ben finally said, “Mom, Mr. Peterson didn’t pay me.”
“Wait, what? You’ve been washing his car every week, and he didn’t pay you?” I asked, shocked.
Ben nodded, explaining that Mr. Peterson had refused to pay because the car wasn’t “perfect.” This infuriated me. Mr. Peterson was known for being arrogant and loved showing off his fancy car. He had offered Ben $50 per wash, but now he was trying to weasel his way out of paying.
“You’ve been doing this for a whole month, right? How much does he owe you?” I asked.
“Two hundred dollars,” Ben replied.
I was furious. Mr. Peterson had no right to cheat my son like this. I gave Ben the $200 from my wallet and assured him I’d handle the situation.
The next morning, I marched outside to find Mr. Peterson polishing his beloved car. “Good morning, Mr. Peterson!” I said with a bright smile.
His smug expression didn’t waver. “Morning, Irene. What can I do for you?”
I kept my tone pleasant, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Just wanted to talk about Ben’s payment for washing your car. He mentioned you weren’t happy with his work yesterday.”
Mr. Peterson crossed his arms and replied, “Yeah, I didn’t think it was worth paying him. The car wasn’t spotless.”
I smiled calmly, despite my growing anger. “Ben told me you promised to pay him $50 per wash, regardless of perfection. In fact, I have pictures of the car after every wash.”
Mr. Peterson’s confident expression cracked. “Pictures?”
“Yes, pictures,” I said, enjoying his discomfort. “And if you don’t pay him, I’m more than happy to discuss this with my lawyer.”
His face went pale, and he quickly fumbled for his wallet. “There’s no need for that!” He pulled out some cash and handed me the $200.
I smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Mr. Peterson. Just so you know, Ben won’t be washing your car anymore.”
When I went back inside and handed the money to Ben, he couldn’t believe it. “You actually got him to pay!” he exclaimed.
I smiled proudly. “No one cheats my son.”
Later, while we were out for lunch, Ben pointed to a “Help Wanted” sign at an ice cream shop and asked, “What do you think, Mom? Should I get a weekend job?”
I laughed. “Go for it. Just remember, if you run into any trouble, you know who to call.”
