When an entitled couple refused to pay my Dad, a hardworking plumber, they thought they were clever. Little did they know their smugness would backfire, leaving them with a bathroom crawling with regret. Here’s how my Dad flushed their entitlement down the drain.
Hey there, folks! Phoebe here, but you can call me Pippi — that’s what my Dad does. Speaking of which, let me introduce you to Pete: 55 years old, ruggedly handsome with a white beard and hands like a roadmap of hard work. He’s your friendly neighborhood plumber and my superhero without the cape.
Close-up of an older man smiling | Source: Midjourney
Dad’s the kind of guy who treats every job like it’s his own home, redoing entire bathrooms if a single tile is off. But some folks see that dedication and think they can take advantage. That’s exactly what a pair of entitled homeowners tried to do.
Oh, but they had no idea who they were messing with.
It all started a few months back when I swung by Dad’s place. I found him on the patio, puffing away on his cigar and laughing like he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke.
A plumber installing pipe fittings | Source: Pexels
“What’s got you in such a good mood, old man?” I asked, plopping down next to him.
Dad’s eyes twinkled as he said, “Oh, Pippi, you’re not gonna believe what just happened. It’s a doozy!”
Dad leaned in, still chuckling. “Remember that bathroom remodel I was working on? Well, let me tell you about the Carlyles, or as I like to call ’em, the Pinchpennies.”
I settled in, knowing this was gonna be good. Dad’s stories always were.
A bathroom interior | Source: Unsplash
“These folks, they wanted the works. New tiles, fancy fixtures, you name it. They picked out every little detail themselves… even down to where they wanted the toilet paper holder.”
“Sounds like a dream job,” I said.
Dad snorted. “Oh, it started that way alright. But then…”
His face darkened, and I knew we were getting to the good part. “What happened, Dad?” I asked.
An older man fixing a faucet in the bathroom | Source: Midjourney
“Well, Pippi, on the last day, just as I’m to start the grouting, they’re sitting on this couch, ready to pull a real fast one on me.”
Dad’s voice took on a mocking tone as he imitated Mrs. Carlyle. “‘Oh, Pete, this isn’t what we wanted at all! These tiles are all wrong!’”
I gasped. “But didn’t they pick everything out themselves?”
“Exactly!” Dad exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “And get this — they had the nerve to tell me they were only gonna pay half of what they owed me. HALF!”
An older couple sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
My jaw dropped. “HALF?? After two weeks of busting your hump to get their dream bathroom done. No way! What did you do?”
Dad’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Well, I tried to reason with ’em at first. But they weren’t having any of it. Mr. Carlyle, he gets all puffed up and says, ‘Just finish the job and GET LOST, Pete. We’re not paying a penny more.’”
I could feel my blood boiling. “That’s not fair! You worked so hard!”
A shocked young woman holding her face | Source: Pexels
Dad patted my hand. “Now, now, Pippi. Don’t you worry! Your old man had a trick up his sleeve.”
“What did you do?” I leaned in, eager to hear more.
Dad’s grin widened. “Oh, I finished the job alright. But instead of using water for the grout…”
“…I mixed it with sugar and honey,” Dad finished, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I blinked, trying to process what I’d just heard. “Sugar and honey? In the grout? But why?”
A bottle of honey near a small mound of powdered tile grout | Source: Midjourney
Dad leaned back, taking a long drag on his cigar. “Just you wait and see, Pippi. Just you wait and see.”
He went on to explain how he’d packed up his tools, pocketed half the pay, and left with a smile, knowing full well what was coming next.
“But Dad,” I interrupted, “wouldn’t they notice something was off with the grout?”
A smiling older man holding a toolbox | Source: Midjourney
He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, not right away. It looked just fine when it dried. But a few weeks later…”
I leaned in, hanging on his every word. “What happened a few weeks later?”
Dad’s grin widened. “That’s when the real fun began.”
“Picture this,” Dad said, gesturing with his cigar. “The Pinchpennies are sitting pretty, thinking they’ve pulled a fast one on old Pete. Then one day, Mrs. Carlyle goes to take a shower, and what does she see?”
Smiling older couple holding ceramic mugs | Source: Pexels
I shrugged, totally engrossed in the story.
“Ants!” Dad exclaimed. “Dozens of ’em, marching along the grout lines like it’s their own personal highway!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No way!”
“Oh, it gets better,” Dad continued. “Next day, it’s cockroaches. Then every creepy-crawly within spittin’ distance shows up for the party.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s crazy! But how do you know all this?”
Close-up of an army of ants on a bathroom floor | Source: Midjourney
Dad winked. “Remember Johnny? My old pal? He’s their next-door neighbor and has been keeping me updated.”
“And the Carlyles?” I asked. “What did they do?”
Dad’s eyes sparkled with glee. “Oh, Pippi, they tried everything. Spent a fortune on pest control, but nothing worked. You wanna know the best part?”
I nodded eagerly.
A pest controller outside a house | Source: Pexels
“They blamed the pest control sprays for ruining the grout! Can you believe it?” Dad burst into laughter.
As Dad’s laughter died down, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the Carlyles. “But Dad, don’t you think that was a bit… harsh?”
Dad’s expression softened. “Pippi, you gotta understand. These people tried to cheat me out of my hard-earned money. Two weeks of backbreaking work, and they wanted to pay me half?”
I nodded slowly. “I get it, but still…”
Close-up of a stunned woman | Source: Pexels
“Look,” Dad said, leaning forward. “In this line of work, your reputation is everything. If word got out that I let clients walk all over me, I’d be out of business faster than you can say ‘leaky faucet.’”
I had to admit, he had a point. “So what happened next?”
Dad grinned. “Well, according to Johnny, they ended up redoing the whole bathroom about a year later.”
My eyes widened. “Did that solve the problem?”
A man working on a renovation project | Source: Freepik
Dad shook his head, chuckling. “Nope. The sugar residue was still there, lurking beneath the surface. The bugs just kept on coming back.”
“And the Carlyles?” I asked. “Did they ever figure it out?”
Dad’s eyes twinkled. “Not a clue. Last I heard, they were planning to redo the entire bathroom… again.”
I sat back, taking it all in. “Wow, Dad. That’s… something else. But didn’t you feel bad at all?”
Construction worker laying ceramic tiles | Source: Freepik
Dad sighed, his expression turning serious. “Pippi, let me tell you something. In all my years of plumbing, I’ve never done anything like this before. And I hope I never have to again. But these Carlyles, they weren’t just trying to cheat me. They were insulting my work, my pride.”
I nodded, understanding dawning. “They thought they could walk all over you.”
“Exactly,” Dad said, pointing his cigar at me. “And in this business, word gets around. If I let them get away with it, who knows how many other folks might try the same thing?”
Side view of an older man looking up | Source: Midjourney
“I guess I see your point,” I admitted. “But still, bugs in the bathroom? That’s pretty gross, Dad.”
He chuckled. “Well, I never said it was a pretty revenge. But it was effective.”
“So, what happened after that?” I asked, curious. “Did you ever hear from them again?”
Dad shook his head. “Nope. But Johnny keeps me updated. You should hear some of the stories he’s told me.”
“Like what?” I leaned in, eager for more.
Ants near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney
Dad’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Well, there was this one time Mrs. Carlyle was hosting a fancy dinner party. Johnny said he could hear her screaming all the way from his house when she found a cockroach in the guest bathroom!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh man, that must’ve been embarrassing!”
Close-up of a cockroach on a bathroom sink | Source: Midjourney
“You bet it was,” Dad chuckled. “And then there was the time Mr. Carlyle tried to fix the problem himself. Bought every bug spray in the store and went to town on that bathroom.”
“Did it work?” I asked, already guessing the answer.
Dad shook his head, grinning. “Nope. Just made the whole house smell like a chemical factory for weeks. And the bugs? They came right back as soon as the smell faded.”
Close-up of gloved hand holding disinfecting solution | Source: Freepik
I shook my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable. How long has this been going on?”
“Oh, must be going on over a year now,” Dad said, puffing on his cigar. “Johnny says they’re at their wits’ end. Talking about selling the house and moving.”
I whistled low. “Wow, Dad. That’s some long-lasting revenge.”
Side view of a cottage with a beautiful garden | Source: Unsplash
He nodded, a hint of remorse in his eyes. “Maybe it went on a bit longer than I intended. But you know what they say about karma.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a real… well, you know.”
We shared a hearty laugh at that.
Close-up side view of an older man with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the patio, I sat back, processing everything Dad had told me.
“You know, Dad,” I said slowly, “I gotta admit, that’s pretty genius. Diabolical, but genius.”
Dad nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Sometimes, Pippi, you gotta teach people a lesson they won’t forget.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I bet the Carlyles won’t be trying to stiff anyone on their bill anytime soon.”
Close-up grayscale shot of a smiling woman | Source: Pexels
“You got that right,” Dad chuckled. “And every time Johnny gives me an update, I get a good laugh out of it.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sky turn pink and orange.
“Hey, Dad?” I said finally.
“Yeah, Pippi?”
“Promise me one thing?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Side view of an older man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I grinned. “If I ever need my bathroom redone, I’m paying you in full upfront.”
Dad burst out laughing, pulling me into a big bear hug. “That’s my girl!”
As we sat there, laughing and watching the sunset, I couldn’t help but think about the Carlyles and their bug-infested bathroom. It was a reminder that sometimes, karma comes with six legs and a sweet tooth.
An older man laughing | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: When a couple turned Toby’s 14-hour flight into a nightmare, he taught them an unforgettable lesson in airplane etiquette.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Woman Arrives at the Farm She Inherited from Her Grandfather to Sell It, but a Farmhand Stands in Her Way — Story of the Day
Rebecca arrives at the farm she inherited, ready to sell it and move on. But a stubborn farmhand refuses to let her make an easy sale. He challenges her at every turn, forcing her to confront not just him but the memories and responsibilities she thought she left behind. Their clash will decide the farm’s fate.
Early in the morning, Rebecca got into her car, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. This wasn’t part of her usual routine, but something unexpected had come up, and she had to deal with it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Leaving her small business in the hands of her assistant, she set off on a long drive, heading out of the busy city.
Rebecca was on her way to her late grandfather’s farm, which he had left to her in his will. She hadn’t been there in years. As a child, she spent summers there, running around and playing, but once she grew older her visits stopped.
Rebecca always assumed her grandfather would pass the farm on to one of his workers, someone who truly needed it. Now, she had no intention of running it herself. Her plan was simple—check things out, find a buyer, and sell it as quickly as possible.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca parked near the farmhouse and stepped out, glancing around. As she turned, she noticed a man on the porch. He stood up quickly, smiling.
“Hey there,” he said. “You must be my new boss. I’m Derek.” He stepped forward, offering his hand.
Rebecca shook it, frowning slightly. Something about him seemed familiar. “Hi, Derek. But you’ve got it wrong. I’m not your boss.”
Derek tilted his head. “Well then, may I at least know the name of my non-boss?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh,” Rebecca said, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Rebecca.”
“Wait a minute. Are you the same Rebecca who let all the chickens out so the dog could have fun?” He chuckled.
Rebecca’s eyes widened as the memory came back. Derek was the son of one of her grandfather’s workers, and they used to play together when she was little. “And you’re the same Derek who taught me to chase them with a slingshot?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. They both laughed, easing the tension.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Derek’s expression grew serious. “So, what do you mean you’re not my boss? The farm was left to you, right?”
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Yes, but I don’t plan to keep it. I’m here to sell it.”
“What? Sell it? To who?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said, shrugging. “Whoever wants to buy it.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Even if they tear it down?” he asked.
“Well… yes.”
Derek stepped closer, his voice rising. “How could you do that? Your grandfather spent his life on this farm! It was everything to him.”
Rebecca felt a pang of guilt but tried to stand her ground. “He’s gone, Derek. And I have my own life. Being a farmer wasn’t part of my plan.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Derek’s eyes searched hers. “What about the animals? The people who work here? You’re just going to let them lose everything?”
She hesitated. “The new owner will handle that.”
Derek’s face darkened. “You don’t care at all, do you?”
“I care. It’s just… not my responsibility anymore,” she said quietly, turning to walk toward the house.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Derek’s voice followed her. “You heartless witch!”
Rebecca winced but didn’t turn back. She quickened her pace, heading inside, trying to ignore the doubts his words stirred.
The next morning, Rebecca was startled awake by a knock on her door. She groggily got up and opened it to find a man standing on the porch.
“Good morning, Rebecca,” he said, nodding politely. “I’m Travis. I manage the fields here. Something’s happened, and I think you’ll want to see it.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca rubbed her eyes. “Morning. Just give me a moment to get dressed.”
She quickly threw on the first clothes she found, then followed Travis outside. They walked through the farm until they reached one of the main fields. Rebecca’s heart sank when she saw the crops. They looked weak, wilted, and sickly.
“What’s wrong with them?” she asked.
Travis sighed, his expression grim. “Hard to say. Maybe someone spread something to damage them. Could be competitors. But if we don’t act fast, we’ll lose the entire crop.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca’s face tightened. “I don’t care. I’m selling the farm. That’s my plan.”
Travis glanced at her. “You’d get a lot more money if you sold it as a working farm. Not just land.”
Rebecca knew he had a point. She hesitated, then asked, “So, what do you need from me?”
“I need an extra worker. One of our guys is out sick, and we don’t have enough hands,” Travis explained.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Alright,” Rebecca said. “I’ll find someone to help.”
Rebecca spent the entire day making phone calls, trying to find someone to hire. She went through a long list of contacts, but every answer was the same—nobody was available.
By evening, she was exhausted, her energy completely drained. She felt like a squeezed lemon, with nothing left to give.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tired and frustrated, Rebecca found herself wandering toward the stables. She remembered how, as a child, she would sit there for hours, surrounded by the soft sounds of the horses.
It always calmed her. She gently petted their noses, fed them some hay, and felt a wave of comfort wash over her. She sighed, thinking, who would have imagined this farm could bring her so many problems?
“Oh, I didn’t know princesses visited stables,” Derek said, his tone icy as he stepped inside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca turned, frowning. “What’s with the attitude?”
Derek folded his arms. “How else should I talk to someone who doesn’t care?”
“For your information, I spent all day trying to find a worker for Travis,” she snapped. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain herself, but his accusation stung.
Derek’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “So you can sell the farm for a better price. That’s what Travis said.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the guilt building inside her.
“I can help Travis,” Derek said, “but I need support with the livestock. That’s my job.”
“There’s no one available to work,” she said.
Derek stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You could help.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca blinked, surprised. “Me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Or are your hands too soft for real work?”
“I know how to work,” she shot back. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever really known how to do.”
“Good,” Derek said, turning toward the door. “Then it’s settled.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca stood there, still processing, as he walked away, wondering how she’d just agreed to help.
For the next few weeks, Rebecca found herself doing things she never expected. She woke up early each morning, pulling on boots and gloves, ready to work. She helped the workers in the fields, fed the animals, and even joined them in the kitchen, cooking meals after long days.
At first, she thought it would be a struggle, but the workers were patient and kind, teaching her the tasks step by step. They treated her like part of the team, and she started to see how much they cared about the farm.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca began to question if selling the farm was the right decision. Every night, she fell into bed exhausted, but it was a different kind of tiredness. The farm, once just a burden, was slowly becoming a place she was starting to care about.
One evening, as she walked back to the house, she spotted something unusual—small surveillance cameras mounted on poles, pointing straight at the field. Why hadn’t she noticed them before?
After asking around, she learned from Sarah, a longtime farm worker, where to access the footage. Sarah brought it to the house, and Rebecca started watching the recordings.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She fast-forwarded until she found what she was looking for—footage of someone sneaking through the field, scattering a strange powder over the crops. The image was blurry at first, but then the figure’s face came into view. Rebecca’s heart dropped. It was Derek.
Furious, she slammed her laptop shut and stormed out of the house. Without thinking, she marched straight toward Derek’s cabin, her mind spinning.
Rebecca stormed up to Derek’s door. When he opened it, she held out her laptop, the screen showing the footage. “Care to explain this?!” she snapped.
Derek sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I was trying to delay the sale,” he said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“So you decided to destroy the farm?!” Rebecca yelled, her voice shaking.
“I didn’t destroy it,” Derek replied. “I slowed things down. It worked. I know you’ve started to care.”
“You can’t just do that, Derek! People had to work harder because of you!” she shouted.
“I thought you didn’t care about the people here,” he said. “I wanted to make you see what this farm means.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca felt a sting in his words, but she refused to back down. “But you messed up! I don’t care! That’s why I’m selling it—to the first buyer who shows up!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she turned and stormed away, leaving Derek standing there.
Two days later, two businessmen arrived at the farm. Rebecca greeted them with a polite smile and led them on a tour, showing them the fields, the barns, and the house. She kept her tone professional, trying to stay detached.
After the tour, Ryan, one of the men, said, “We’re ready to buy it.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Great! When can we sign the contract?” she asked.
“Right now,” said the other man, Tom. “We brought our lawyer with us.”
Rebecca nodded and led them inside. They sat at the dining table, and the lawyer set the papers down. She picked up the pen, but her hand froze. Something didn’t feel right. “You’re buying the farm to run it, right?” she asked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Not exactly,” Ryan replied. “We plan to build a factory here. Is that a problem?”
Rebecca’s stomach twisted. She hesitated, but forced a smile. “No, no problem.” Her eyes drifted to the wall. A childhood photo of her and her grandfather hung there—she was feeding a calf, smiling wide. She took a deep breath, pushing the papers closer. Slowly, she prepared to sign.
After fifteen minutes, Rebecca walked Ryan, Tom, and their lawyer out of the house. She spotted Derek sitting under a tree, watching. Tom shook her hand. “Well, good luck,” he said. Ryan did the same, and then they drove off.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Derek got up and walked over. “Congratulations,” he said flatly. “The farm’s no longer your problem. How much did you sell it for?”
Rebecca looked at him. “I changed my mind.”
“What?” Derek’s eyes widened, confused.
“I’m not selling it,” she repeated.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Derek’s frown melted into a smile. “Really?”
“Don’t get too happy,” she said, trying to stay serious. “I’m a demanding boss. My employees usually avoid me.”
Derek suddenly pulled her into a tight hug, catching her off guard. After a moment, she realized what was happening and hugged him back, feeling something warm and hopeful stir inside her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My mom always left my dad, swearing it was for good, only to return after his apologies and gifts. It became a pattern I was used to, a cycle that never broke. But this time, when she showed up at my door with a suitcase, she had news that changed everything. Read the full story here.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. If you would like to share your story
Leave a Reply