A rowdy teenager caused trouble for the school janitor and felt guilty. He learned about the man’s life and decided to do something remarkable for him, and only then did he realize something essential.
“Jeez!” Holden spat when he saw the mess he made on the floor. He and his friend were only going to play a prank on another student and paint his locker. However, he dropped the paint can in the middle of the basketball court, which would certainly be noticeable.
“Come on, Holden! Let’s go! Let’s go!” his friend, Andrew, yelled, and they both dropped everything and ran away.
They weren’t bad kids, but they were undoubtedly rowdy and rebellious, skipping classes all the time and trying to prank others. However, they weren’t bullies and didn’t have any malicious intent. Holden just hated school and wanted anarchy like many teenagers did at that age.
“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”
Fortunately, no one discovered what they had done, but Holden passed by the basketball court later and saw the old school janitor cleaning things up and heard the screams of the principal, Mr. Figgins.
“We have the prep rally tomorrow, and scouts from all over the country are coming! This needs to come out immediately!” the principal yelled at the poor old man, who hung his head and tried to clean the mess. However, the paint was oil-based, and it was an arduous task.
“Yes, Mr. Figgins. I’ll make sure it’s ready for tomorrow,” the janitor said and kept scrubbing. The principal threw his arms around some more, yelled some demands, and walked off in a huff.
Holden felt terrible, watching the old man on his knees trying to fix his mistake, so he did something completely uncharacteristic. He walked into the court, grabbed a rag, kneeled, and started cleaning with the janitor.
The old man looked at him for a second. “I guess you did this, right?” he commented and kept scrubbing.
“Sir, please. I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t know you would get in trouble for it,” Holden apologized sincerely and continued moving the rag up and down. “Please don’t tell the principal. My mom would kill me.”
The old man sighed and shrugged. “I won’t tell anyone, but you have to help me until this floor is back to normal,” he negotiated, and Holden nodded rapidly.
While they worked, they talked. The janitor’s name was Fred. At first, their conversation was about basketball and football, as the school has some of the best teams in the state. But then, Holden asked the old man why he was working at his age. Based on the wrinkles on his face and his frail arms, he had to be way over 60.
“Well, I need to pay a mortgage, kid,” Fred responded with pursed lips. “And I’m 76.”
“You haven’t paid your mortgage still. Wow. That means I can never dream of having a house of my own,” Holden commented.
“Well, things are hard now, kid. But actually, I never wanted to own a house. I rented most of my life. I bought that house for my daughter. She needed her own place, and I wanted to give her something,” Fred revealed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I put a down payment for her and helped her with the mortgage for years. But then, she died in a car accident, and it was all on me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Holden muttered, and they stayed quiet for a while. “Why don’t you sell the house now?”
“Where would I live, kid? With rent these days, I would be homeless. And I have to keep working to eat,” the janitor continued. He wasn’t bitter or sad. He was just realistic.
“But you might not ever retire!” the teenager added.
“That’s true. I just hope I can pay the mortgage before I die,” he continued.
“How much is it?” Holden asked boldly.
“Well, I believe it’s a little under $30,000.”
“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”
But Fred laughed. “Let’s just work, kid.”
They finally removed all traces of the paint, but they both went home late that night… and Holden couldn’t sleep. He wanted to do something nice for the old man who hadn’t gotten him in trouble.
A few days later, he confessed what he had done to his mother and told her everything; then, he asked her how they could raise money for the old janitor. Maybe, if they paid his mortgage, Fred could retire.
His mother said that he could mow lawns around the neighborhood. It was mowing season, and tons of people were looking for help. So, Holden did so and surprisingly got a ton of clients. He grabbed his dad’s lawnmower and worked hard.
But after a few days, he realized the task was almost impossible. He would have to work for years, just like Fred, to raise the money, so he talked to his neighbors whose kids also went to the school. He took a picture of Fred from the school’s website and posted it online, telling his story, and finally decided to open a crowdfunding link for the janitor.
To his shock, the money started coming in, and $30,000 were raised in just a week.
After that, Holden and his mother talked to the school principal about having a special ceremony to honor Fred and surprise him. The teenager also had to come clean to the principal about the paint on the basketball court. Finally, Mr. Figgins agreed.
The whole school heard the story, and they all gathered at the basketball court and cheered when Fred came in. The old janitor had no idea what was going on as he didn’t have social media. But Holden presented him with the money, and many in the crowd cried as the two of them hugged. Fred officially retired that week.
Holden later learned that Fred had a granddaughter, Erin, who was only a few years younger than him, and the janitor wanted to pay off the house so she could have it when he was gone. She and Holden became great friends as he started visiting the old man after school and helping out.
He stopped hanging out with Andrew and started taking his classes seriously. The entire experience taught him that you had to work hard for everything.
His rebellious ways wholly disappeared, and he actually graduated at the top of his class a few years later. The entire school staff was shocked and pleased by his 180º turn, as it was something teachers rarely ever saw. And it was all due to Fred and that afternoon spent cleaning some paint off the floor.
What can we learn from this story?
You must apologize and do your best to atone for your errors. Holden got the old janitor in trouble, but he readily apologized and tried to make things better.
It only takes one experience or person to change someone’s perspective on life. After meeting Fred, Holden changed for good, as he learned that life was hard and only those who worked hard and honestly could live happily.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
My Neighbor Totally Ruined My Windows with Paint after I Refused to Pay $2,000 for Her Dog’s Treatment
An increasingly heated argument starts when Julia declines to pay her neighbor $2000 for a small dog accident. Julia is dealing with family issues and navigating the chaos as tensions grow. But Julia loses it and plans some heinous retaliation after her neighbor paints over her windows.
Allow me to share with you the story of the moment I nearly went insane while residing in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
I’m Julia, and I shared this sweet small home with my husband Roger and our ten-year-old son Dean for more than 10 years.
As long as you disregarded the ongoing concern for Roger’s well-being, everything was fairly wonderful. However, when Linda moved in next door, everything was different.
Linda. The mere thought of her makes my blood boil. We never got along from the day she came in with her golden retriever, Max.
At first, it was simply small things, like her loud music or the fact that she allowed Max go anywhere he wished, nothing serious. However, things took a bad turn one sunny afternoon.
Max came running over to me while I was cutting my roses in my backyard, wagging his tail like he owned the place. Really sweet dog, but intrigued. He took in certain scents, and before I knew it, he yelled.
The poor creature has a little thorn embedded in his paw. I bent down, comforted him, and carefully pulled the thorn out. I patted Max’s head after he licked my fingers.
I accompanied him back to Linda’s, perhaps anticipating a thank you. Rather, she merely stood there, frowning and with her arms crossed.
Why does my dog have a limp? How did you act? She lost her temper.
“He simply trod on a small thorn,” I retorted, attempting to remain composed. “I removed it, and he seems OK.”
She gave a huff, and I assumed that was it. How incorrect I was!
One morning, I discovered a message affixed to my door. “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment,” it said.
I was astounded as I stared at it. Two thousand dollars? For what purpose? The dog only received a small cut. I made the decision to visit and make everything clear.
Linda, what’s the deal? I asked, pointing to the message.
Her tone was cold as she continued, “That’s for Max’s vet bill.” “That thorn caused him pain all through the night.”
“I apologize, but that is absurd,” I answered. “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll give you $100, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda squinted her eyes. “You’ll regret it or you pay up.”
Linda turned my life into a living misery the moment she met me.
Every time she drove by, she would flip me off, honk, and tip over my trash cans. Her attempt to have Dean arrested was the worst. Dean, my sweet, naive boy, was simply riding a minibike like all the other kids in the area.
I was enjoying a cup of tea on the veranda one afternoon when I heard Linda’s car horn familiarly screaming. Glaring at Dean, who was playing in the driveway, I looked up.
She said, “Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops!”
“Linda, these are only children!” Feeling my patience wane, I yelled back.
She shot back, “Your kid is a menace, and if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
I was unable to yell, weep, or take action, even though I wanted to. Since Roger was back in the hospital, I was already overburdened with trying to keep things together. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Dean.
I kindly murmured, “Come inside, honey.” “We’ll switch up the game.”
With tears in his eyes, Dean argued, “But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I understand, my love. Simply put, it’s complicated.
I made an effort to ignore Linda’s shenanigans and concentrate on Roger and Dean. However, it felt as though a ticking time bomb was nearby. I was always afraid of what she might do next. Finally, she pushed me over the edge.
I got the call in the afternoon of a Sunday. Roger’s condition had gotten worse, and I had to head to the hospital right away.
After gathering our belongings, I dropped Dean off at my mother’s house and hurried to the hospital.
I stayed by Roger’s side for two excruciating days, not eating or sleeping, my mind racing with worry and tiredness.
Upon my return, all I wanted was a little break, an opportunity to regain my composure.
Upon walking up my driveway, I discovered that my house had been turned into a nightmare for graffiti artists. Paint in the colors red and yellow spattered my windows, dripping in unkempt streaks.
My house appeared to have been attempted to be converted into a circus tent. And there it was, Linda’s note “Just to make your days brighter!” sitting on the doorstep!
A house covered with paint splatters | Source: Midjourney
I was shaking with fury as I stood there, my fatigue from the previous two days melting away in the fire of my fury. That was it. This was the tipping moment.
I clinched my teeth and whispered, “Dean, go inside.”
“But Mom, what took place?” His eyes wide with terror and perplexity, he questioned.
I said it again, softly this time, attempting to maintain my composure. “Just go inside, honey.”
Dean gave a nod and rushed inside, leaving me to harbor my rage on my own.
With my thoughts racing, I crumpled Linda’s paper in my hand. It had to end. Linda was going to get a war if that was her desire.
I took a drive to the hardware shop that afternoon. I strolled through the aisles, my rage melting into a detached, analytical concentration. When I saw the Japanese Beetle traps, a strategy started to take shape.
I purchased multiple packets of the beetle-attracting smell lures and traps. I put the aroma packets in the freezer as soon as I came home. The wax would be easier to work with in the cold. Anxiety mixed with excitement caused my heart to race. This needed to function.
I slipped into Linda’s yard at three in the morning while the neighborhood was silent due to the darkness.
I had the impression of a figure from one of Roger’s favorite spy films. My heart leaped at the sound of every distant leaf rustle. However, I was adamant. I hid the smell packets behind the layers of mulch in Linda’s well-kept flower beds.
By the time I was done, the first rays of morning were appearing.
I crept back inside my house, feeling my heartbeat finally begin to settle down. Despite being tired, I felt a sense of somber fulfillment as I got into bed. It was now a matter of waiting.
When I looked out my window the following afternoon, I noticed swarms of Japanese beetles descending on Linda’s garden. They were glinting in the sunlight. It was functioning.
Her lovely flower gardens were completely destroyed over the course of the following few days, the once-vibrant blossoms reduced to frayed remains.
Allow me to correct the information. Hi there, my name is Linda, and I came to this area in search of solitude.
My golden dog, Max, went into Julia’s yard by mistake and snagged a thorn in his paw, shattering that fantasy. She pulled it out as if she were doing me a favor, rather than just giving it back to him.
I asked Julia to pay Max’s vet bill the following day.
He was in discomfort and walking with a limp all night. However, she was so bold as to offer me just $100 rather than the $2000 it would have cost. I told her she would regret not paying up after our argument. Things didn’t seem to be getting out of control.
Yes, I did, a couple times knocked over her trash cans and honked as I went past, to let her know I wasn’t going to back down. However, Julia painted myself as the bad guy.
I didn’t know things had gotten out of hand until insects decimated my garden.
I was like a crazy woman, rushing around my yard. When I was picking away dead flowers on the third day, I noticed something strange hidden in the mulch. When I saw that it was a piece of plastic packaging—part of a Japanese beetle trap—my heart fell.
Someone had intentionally done this. And I knew who it was, very well.
My wrath blazing, I stormed straight to Julia’s house. I knocked on her door, presenting the proof that implicated her.
“Julia! Let yourself in!” I yelled, fury trembling in my voice.
Appearing composed as ever, she unlocked the door. “What’s going on, Linda?”
“You know what you did to my garden?” I threw the plastic fragment towards her. This was discovered in my flower bed. Yes, you did this, right?
Although Julia maintained a neutral expression, there was a hint of something—guilt, perhaps—in her eyes. “Lucina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me lies!” I let out a cry. “You destroyed my yard! Why would you act in this manner?
A wail sounded from within the home before she could respond. When I looked behind Julia, I noticed Dean, her son, seated on the floor with tears running down his face.
“Is Dad going to pass away, Mom?” With his tiny voice breaking, Dean cried.
Julia looked past me, her expression softening as she turned to greet her son. “No, sweetheart, everything will be OK. The medical professionals are exerting every effort.
I watched this scene play out while freezing in place. My rage seemed so trivial now.
Julia was more than simply my obnoxious neighbor; she was a mother taking care of her sick husband and her afraid child.
“Julia, I.” I opened my mouth, but my words stumbled. How do I put it? I hadn’t paused to think about what she might be going through since I was so overwhelmed by my rage.
With a look of fatigue on her face, Julia turned to face me. “Linda, I apologize for your garden. However, I didn’t do it. I can’t handle this anymore, let alone caring about your flowers.
My fight was gone from me. “I apologize too,” I said. “I had no idea that things were so horrible for you.”
She gave a nod, remaining silent. I recoiled, embarrassed by my own foolishness. How could it have gotten so out of control?
That being said, I kept to myself. I realized that Julia had enough on her plate and put an end to the small-time harassing. My garden recovered slowly, and although Julia and I never became friends, we were able to live in harmony together.
I still think about that period of time years later. Sometimes, in order to understand what others are going through, you have to look past your own problems. Even though Julia and I have remained estranged neighbors, we have a silent respect for one another that was developed through hardship.
Though it has been romanticized for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
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