When Irene’s son Ben walks into their house looking upset, she demands an explanation as to why. When the boy begins to talk, she realises that their smug neighbour has refused to pay Ben for the month of car washing he did for the man. Will this mum take matters into her own hands?
I knew immediately that something was wrong when Ben walked through the door on Friday night. He was limp on his feet and his eyes didn’t have their usual glint in them.
His hands were still damp, probably from wringing out towels after washing the other car, and he avoided eye contact as he slumped down on the couch.
‘Hey mate, what’s going on?’ I called out from the kitchen.
I was planning on making his favourite grilled chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. I was going to make him a plate as soon as he came in.
But looking at him now, I was worried. Ben was only 14, but he’d recently got a taste for making money and wanted to be independent.
‘Come on,’ I said, wiping my hands. ‘You can tell me everything!’
For a second he didn’t answer, just stared at the ground. My heart dropped when I saw the disappointment written on his face.
It was as if he was trying to find the words but didn’t know how to say them.
‘He…he didn’t pay me,’ Ben finally muttered.
‘What do you mean? Didn’t Mr Peterson agree to pay you $50 every time you wash his car?’ I asked, feeling my brow furrow.
Ben let out a sigh that sounded too heavy for a fourteen year old.
‘Yeah, but today, after I finished washing the car for the fourth time in a month, he said it wasn’t ‘spotless’ and that I wouldn’t get any money. At all! He said I should have done a better job if I wanted my money.’
I felt my fists clench. Mr Peterson, our smug neighbour who always has something to say. He flaunted his suits and made sure everyone noticed the shine of his expensive black Jeep.
‘Beautiful car, isn’t it?’ – He asked, leaning out of the car. ‘Amazing!’
He had taken an interest in Ben a few months ago, especially after seeing Ben wash my car.
‘Wow, you did a great job on your mum’s car Ben, what do you say to washing my car every Friday? I’ll pay you, of course!’
At first I thought it was a compliment, but now I realise what it really was:
A way of exploiting cheap labour.
‘You’ve washed that car every week this month, haven’t you?’ I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Ben nodded, sinking deeper into the couch.
‘Yeah, I’ve spent about three hours over the last four weeks making sure it’s clean. I even used a hand vacuum under the seats and everything. But he said I didn’t deserve to be paid.’
Anger flared in my chest.
I knew Ben had done a great job. Whenever he worked on our car, he always made that impression on me. In fact, Mr Peterson’s car gleamed like a showpiece when my son was done with it.
It wasn’t that the car was clean. No, sir. It was about Mr Peterson being a jerk.
And now?
Now it seemed to Ben that his hard work was worthless.
‘How much does he owe you?’ I asked.
Ben thought for a moment.
‘Four loads of laundry, Mum. Two hundred dollars, then.’
I pulled out my wallet and counted out $200 in crisp notes. I held them out to him and saw his eyes widen with surprise.
‘Here, you earned it, honey.’
‘Mum, you don’t have to. It was Mr Peterson who had to pay me!’ – he exclaimed.
I shook my head, shooing him away.
‘I’m not done with Mr Peterson yet, dear. He has no right to treat you like that and leave.’
Ben looked uncertain, his eyes running from the money in his hand to me.
‘But, Mum!’
‘No buts, Ben,’ I said, putting my wallet away. ‘Believe me, I’m going to teach Mr Peterson a lesson about what happens when you take advantage of the fruits of someone else’s hard work. Now let’s go eat. I’m starving!’
Ben smiled and sat down at the table.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said, smiling.
The next morning I woke up with a plan. Mr Peterson had no idea what was in store for him. I looked out the window, and sure enough, there he was in his silk pajamas, meticulously polishing his Jeep like a man possessed.
I smiled and walked outside, casually striding towards him in my yoga clothes.
‘Good morning, Mr Peterson!’ I exclaimed happily.
He looked up from his car, his usual smug expression already in place.
‘Good morning, Irene,’ he said. ‘What can I do for you? Just make it quick, I have a brunch with my family soon.’
I could have rolled my eyes.
‘Oh, it’s nothing much. I just wanted to clarify how Ben paid for your car wash,’ I said. ‘He mentioned that you weren’t happy with his work yesterday.’
Mr Peterson straightened his back and crossed his arms.
‘Yes, that’s right, Irene. The car wasn’t flawless, so I didn’t see the need to pay him. It’s experience, you know? Anyway, he’s a young chap. The world should humble him.’
The anger from the day before flared up again, but I kept my expression neutral and even smiled slightly.
‘An enlightening experience, eh?’ said I. ‘Interesting. Ben told me you’re a man of your word… and he mentioned that you agreed to pay him $50 per wash, no matter how spotless it was. And how did you just guess that! I have pictures of the car that he took after every wash.’
The smug expression on his face cracked slightly.
‘Photographs?’ asked Mr Peterson.
‘Yes, pictures. He liked to send them to his grandfather after every wash. He took a lot of pride in his work.’
Mr Peterson hummed.
‘Anyway, it seems to me that a verbal agreement was made. And to break it? That’s a breach of contract, isn’t it? Should I talk to my lawyer about it?’
The colour vanished from his face.
‘There is no need for all this!’ – He exclaimed.
I held up my hand.
‘Oh, I think there is. You see, Ben has worked hard, and you’re trying to cheat him out of what he’s earned. So here’s a deal for you. You pay my son $200 today, or I’ll make sure everyone in the neighbourhood knows how you treat the kids who work for you.’
He just stared at me.
‘And if that doesn’t convince you, I’ll gladly take you to court,’ I continued.
I saw panic appear in his features. The neighbour with the perfect lawn and the perfect jeep was suddenly sweating in his silk pyjamas.
He opened the car door, fumbled for his wallet, and quickly counted out the money.
‘Here’s your money,’ he muttered, holding out $200 in crumpled notes.
‘Excellent. It was a pleasure doing business with you,’ I said with a smile. ‘But please understand that my son won’t be touching your car again.’
He nodded grimly.
As I entered the house, Ben lifted his head from the couch. He had a bowl of cereal in his hands, and his eyes widened when I handed him the money.
‘You really did it!’ – he exclaimed.
I grinned, feeling a fierce sense of pride.
‘No one messes with my son,’ I said. ‘Especially if they think they can get away with not paying their debt. Next time someone tries to pull a stunt like that, you’ll know exactly how to deal with them.’
‘Does that mean I have to pay you back $200?’ – He grinned.
‘No,’ I laughed. ‘But I guess you can take me out to lunch today as mother and son?’
‘Deal, Mom,’ he said.
Later, as we sat in the cute bistro, Ben leaned back in his chair, squinting at the sign for the ice cream parlour across the street.
‘Help Wanted,’ he read. ‘What do you say, Mum? A weekend job at the ice cream parlour?’
‘Come on,’ I laughed, piling on my burger. ‘But if the boss gets pissed, you know who to call.’
My son smiled at me and nodded slowly before taking a fry.
What would you do?
