When I noticed the harsh note put on my healing grandfather’s dusty automobile, I was enraged. But determining who was responsible was only the beginning. What I did next insured that this entitled neighbor would never forget the lesson she was about to get.
It all began two months ago, while I was at work and my phone called. It was Mom. Her voice was unsteady, almost breaking, as she informed me that Grandpa had been brought to the hospital after suffering a heart attack. My heart sank. Grandpa Alvin is more than simply my grandfather; he is my rock, my confidant, and my favorite person in the world. The prospect of losing him was awful.
I can’t recall the drive to pick up Mom or the frenzied dash to the hospital. The 45-minute drive felt like an eternity, full with worry and fear while Mom softly grieved alongside me. When we arrived, the doctor informed us that Grandpa had recovered from the surgery, but he would require plenty of rest, a strict diet, and no stress.
Grandpa was discharged a few days later, but because he lived in another town, we couldn’t be there every day to care for him. We hired a full-time nurse to care for him, cook for him, and keep him on the path to recovery. He did not leave his residence for two months, focusing solely on his recovery.
Last week, I realized it had been too long since I’d seen him. Over breakfast, I told Mom that I planned to visit him that weekend, and she eagerly agreed to join me. I was excited to see Grandpa, imagining his face lighting up when he saw us.
On Saturday, I purchased a bouquet of his favorite sunflowers and drove to his house with Mom. As we arrived into the parking area, I noticed Grandpa’s ancient automobile covered in dust. It was evident that he had not driven it since his illness. But as we came closer, I noticed something that made my blood boil: a horrible statement scribbled over the back windscreen: “YOU ARE A DIRTY PIG!” CLEAN UP YOUR CAR OR LEAVE THE COMMUNITY. “SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!”
I was furious. Who could be so callous as to write it on an elderly man’s car? Especially since he had been too unwell to leave his flat. Mom was likewise surprised, but she gently reminded me not to let Grandpa see my distress. We swiftly went up to his apartment, and the excitement on his face when he opened the door temporarily took the terrible message out of my mind.
The guard was first reluctant to provide me the security footage, but after I explained the circumstances, he decided to assist. As we studied the film, I noticed an elderly woman with a snobbish demeanor writing that nasty statement on Grandpa’s car. The guard recognized her as Briana from 4C, who was well-known in the building for generating problems.
Briana had apparently been nagging Grandpa for months, fussing about everything from how his newspaper was left out to the color of his potted plants. She even tried to have him penalized for minor offenses. It was evident that she had no intention of treating him kindly.
I realized I had to do something, so I devised a strategy. The next day, I printed a copy of the security film that caught Briana in the act and constructed a large placard that read: “SHAME! SHAME! SHAME! “The lady from Apt 4C is abu::sing her elderly neighbors.” I taped it in the elevator so that everyone in the building would see it.
Briana quickly became the center of attention at the complex, and not in a good manner. People began to shun her, and she could no longer harass Grandpa or anybody else without incurring community judgment.
When I saw Grandpa again a few days later, he greeted me with a great hug and told me about the incident with Briana. He had no idea I was the one behind it, so I pretended to be surprised. But internally, I felt a great sense of satisfaction. Sometimes you must fight fire with fire. In circumstances like this, being compassionate is insufficient when someone like Briana refuses to respect others.
What would you have done in my position?
