I recently bought a house in a quiet neighborhood. One day, my neighbor’s 13-year-old son started mowing my lawn. I walked outside and asked why.
“I usually get $50,” he said. “My mom told me to ask that. But I’d be fine with ten.”
I was stunned. “I didn’t ask for this,” I told him, “and I’m not paying for something I didn’t agree to.”
He nodded quietly and left.
The next day, his mom came storming over, fists clenched and eyes blazing.
“HOW DARE YOU NOT PAY MY SON?! He did you a favor — your lawn was messy!”
I finally understood: she had sent him over without asking me, simply because she didn’t like how my yard looked. The poor kid had just been following orders.
I felt bad for him, so I slipped him some cash — but his mother? She clearly needed a taste of her own medicine.
So a few days later, I rented a leaf blower. I waited until early Sunday morning, when I knew she was sleeping in, and “helpfully” blew every single pile of leaves from my yard straight into hers. When she came outside screeching, I smiled and said, “Don’t worry — no need to thank me. Just doing you a favor.”
She turned beet red. The kid tried not to laugh. After that, she never sent him to mow my lawn again.
