I knew something was wrong when Ben walked in, eyes down and shoulders slumped. He’d just finished washing Mr. Peterson’s car—for the fourth time this month—and was clearly upset.
“He didn’t pay me,” Ben mumbled. “Said the car wasn’t spotless.”
My stomach dropped. Mr. Peterson had promised $50 per wash. Ben, only 14, had spent hours doing a great job every time.
Angry, I handed Ben $200 from my wallet. “You earned this. But don’t worry—I’m not done with him.”
The next morning, I approached Mr. Peterson while he polished his precious Jeep.
“You made a verbal agreement,” I said. “Ben even has photos of each wash. Either pay him or I take this to the neighborhood—and maybe a lawyer.”
His smug smile vanished. Minutes later, I walked back in with $200 in crumpled bills.
“You actually did it!” Ben said, stunned.
“No one cheats my son,” I smiled. “And next time someone tries, you’ll know how to handle it.”
He grinned. “Does this mean I can keep the other $200?”
“No,” I laughed, “but you owe me lunch.”
Later, Ben spotted a Help Wanted sign at an ice cream shop.
“Think I should apply?”
“Only if you promise to call me if they mess with you.”
