When an entitled couple refused to pay my hardworking plumber father, they assumed they were clever. Little did they know that their arrogance would backfire, leaving them with a bathroom full of remorse. Here’s how my father squandered their entitlement.
Hey there, everyone! Phoebe here, but you can call me Pippi because my father does. Speaking of which, let me introduce you to Pete: 55 years old, ruggedly gorgeous, with a white beard and hands that carry the marks of a lifetime of hard work. He’s your nice neighborhood plumber and my superhero sans cape.
Dad is the type of guy who takes on every task as if it were his own, replacing entire bathrooms if a single tile is amiss. However, some people notice that determination and believe they can take advantage. That is just what a pair of entitled homeowners attempted to accomplish. Oh, but they had no idea who they were dealing with.
It all started a few months ago when I stopped by Dad’s house. I found him on the terrace, puffing away on his cigar and smiling as if he had just heard the world’s best joke.
“What’s got you in such a good mood, old man?” I inquired, settling down close to him.
Dad’s eyes twinkled as he continued, “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, thinking this was going to be good. Dad’s stories have always been.
“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 countenance darkened, and I knew we’d reached the good part. “What happened, Dad?” I asked.
“Well, Pippi, on the last day, just as I’m finishing up the grouting, they’re sitting on this couch, ready to pull a real fast one on me.” Dad’s voice became sarcastic as he imitated Mrs. Carlyle. “‘Oh, Pete, this isn’t what we wanted at all! These tiles are all wrong!’”
I gave a gasp. “But didn’t they pick everything out themselves?”
“Exactly!” Dad exclaimed, putting 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!”
My jaw fell. “HALF?? After two weeks of working tirelessly to complete their dream bathroom. No way! “What did you do?”
Dad’s eyes gleamed 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!”
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 learn more.
Dad’s grin broadened. “Oh, I finished the job alright. But instead of using water for the grout…”
“I mixed it with sugar and honey,” Dad added, his eyes flashing with malice.
I blinked, attempting to understand what I had just heard. “Sugar and honey?” In the grout? “But why?”
Dad leaned back and took a deep drag from his cigar. “Just wait and see, Pippi. “Just wait and see.” He went on to explain how he packed up his equipment, grabbed half the pay, and smiled as he departed, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.
“But Dad,” I said, “wouldn’t they notice something was off with the grout?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Nah, not right away. It looked just fine when it dried. But a few weeks later…”
I leaned closer, listening intently to 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?”
I shrugged, completely engaged 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 laughing. “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 astonishment. “That’s crazy! But how do you know all this?”
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 shone with delight. “Oh, Pippi, they tried everything. Spent a fortune on pest control, but nothing worked. You wanna know the best part?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“They blamed the pest control sprays for ruining the grout! Can you believe it?” Dad broke out laughing.
As Dad’s laughing subsided, I couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the Carlyles. “But Dad, don’t you think that was a bit… harsh?”
Dad’s expression relaxed. “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…”
“Look,” Dad stated, leaning forward. “In this line of work, reputation is everything. If word spread that I let clients walk all over me, I’d be out of business faster than you can say ‘leaky faucet.'”
I had to concede that he had a point. “So what happened next?”
Dad grins. “Well, according to Johnny, they ended up redoing the whole bathroom about a year later.”
My eyes expanded. “Did that solve the problem?”
Dad shook his head and chuckled. “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.”
Dad sighed and his expression became grim. “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 replied, 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?”
“I guess I see your point,” I confessed. “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 inquired, curious. “Did you ever hear from them again?”
Dad shakes his head. “Nope. But Johnny keeps me updated. You should hear some of the stories he’s told me.”
“Like what?” I leaned in, ready for more.
Dad’s eyes sparkled with malice. Mrs. Carlyle once hosted a nice dinner party. Johnny claimed he could hear her screaming all the way from his house when she discovered a cockroach in the guest toilet!”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh man, that must’ve been embarrassing!”
“You bet it was,” Dad laughed. “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 inquired, already anticipating the answer.
Dad shook his head and grinned. “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.”
I shook my head in astonishment. “Unbelievable. How long has this been going on?”
“Unbelievable. How long has this been going on?” Dad remarked, chewing on his cigar. “Johnny says they’re at their wits’ end. Talking about selling the house and moving.”
I whistled softly. “Wow, Dad. That’s some long-lasting revenge.”
He nodded, a look of regret 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.
As the sun began to set, sending a warm warmth across the patio, I sat back and processed what 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.”
“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?”
I grinned. “If I ever need my bathroom redone, I’m paying you in full upfront.”
Dad burst out laughing and pulled me into a big bear embrace. “That’s my girl!”
As we sat there, laughing and admiring the sunset, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Carlyles and their bug-infested bathroom. It served as a reminder that karma can come with six legs and a sweet tooth.
