When a couple of stuck-up homeowners decided not to pay my hardworking plumber dad what he deserved, they thought they could get away with it. But little did they know, their arrogance would come back to haunt them in the most unexpected way. Here’s how my dad turned their dream bathroom into their worst nightmare.
Hey there! I’m Phoebe, but my dad calls me Pippi. Speaking of my dad, let me tell you about Pete. He’s 55 years old, with a rugged look, a white beard, and hands that show he’s been working hard all his life. He’s the best plumber in town, and he’s my hero—no cape needed.
My dad treats every job like it’s for his own house. If one tile isn’t perfect, he’ll redo the entire bathroom without a second thought. But some people see that dedication and think they can take advantage. That’s exactly what happened with this one snobby couple. But oh boy, they didn’t know who they were dealing with.
It all started a few months ago when I visited my dad at his place. I found him sitting on the patio, puffing on his cigar, and laughing like he’d just heard the funniest joke ever.
“What’s got you in such a good mood, old man?” I asked, dropping into the seat next to him.
Dad’s eyes were twinkling as he said, “Oh, Pippi, you’re not gonna believe what just happened. This one’s a real doozy!”
He 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 knew this was going to be a good story, so I got comfortable. Dad’s stories are always the best.
“These folks wanted everything top-of-the-line. 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 perfect job,” I said.
Dad snorted. “Oh, it started that way. But then…” His face darkened, and I knew we were getting to the juicy part. “What happened, Dad?” I asked.
“Well, Pippi, on the last day, just as I’m finishing up the grouting, they’re sitting on the couch, ready to pull a fast one on me.” Dad’s voice changed 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 in frustration. “And then they had the nerve to say they were only going to pay me half of what they owed. HALF!”
My jaw dropped. “HALF?? After you worked so hard for two weeks? No way! What did you do?”
Dad’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well, I tried to reason with them at first. But they weren’t having it. Mr. Carlyle 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 so unfair! You busted your back for them!”
Dad patted my hand and said, “Don’t worry, Pippi. Your old man had a little trick up his sleeve.”
“What did you do?” I leaned in closer, excited 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 said, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
I blinked, trying to understand. “Sugar and honey? In the grout? But why?”
Dad leaned back, taking a long puff from his cigar. “Just wait and see, Pippi. Just wait and see.” He explained how he packed up his tools, took the half-payment, and left with a smile, knowing full well what was about to happen.
“But Dad,” I interrupted, “wouldn’t they notice something was wrong with the grout?”
He shook his head, chuckling. “Nope, not right away. It looked perfectly 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 grew even wider. “That’s when the real fun started.”
“Picture this,” Dad said, waving his cigar around. “The Pinchpennies are feeling pretty smug, thinking they’ve outsmarted old Pete. Then one day, Mrs. Carlyle goes to take a shower, and what does she see?”
I shrugged, totally engrossed in the story.
“Ants!” Dad exclaimed. “Dozens of them, marching along the grout lines like it’s their own private highway!”
I burst out laughing. “No way!”
“Oh, it gets better,” Dad continued. “The next day, it’s cockroaches. Then every creepy-crawly within a mile shows up for the party.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s insane! But how do you know all this?”
Dad winked. “Remember Johnny? My old buddy? He’s their next-door neighbor and has been keeping me in the loop.”
“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 want to know the best part?”
I nodded eagerly.
“They blamed the pest control sprays for ruining the grout! Can you believe it?” Dad burst out laughing.
As Dad’s laughter died down, I felt a little sorry 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…”
“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 fix the problem?”
Dad shook his head, chuckling. “Nope. The sugar residue was still there, hiding beneath the surface. The bugs just kept 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, 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 more clearly. “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?”
“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 pretty revenge. But it sure was effective.”
“So, what happened after that?” I asked, still curious. “Did you ever hear from them again?”
Dad shook his head. “Nope. But Johnny keeps me updated. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories he’s told me.”
“Like what?” I leaned in, eager for more.
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 so embarrassing!”
“You bet it was,” Dad chuckled. “And then there was the time Mr. Carlyle tried to fix the problem himself. He bought every bug spray in the store and went wild on that bathroom.”
“Did it work?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Dad shook his head, grinning. “Nope. Just made the whole house smell like chemicals for weeks. And the bugs? They came right back as soon as the smell faded.”
I shook my head, amazed. “Unbelievable. How long has this been going on?”
“Oh, must be over a year now,” Dad said, puffing on his cigar. “Johnny says they’re at their wits’ end. They’re even talking about selling the house and moving.”
I whistled. “Wow, Dad. That’s some long-lasting payback.”
He nodded, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Maybe it went on longer than I planned. 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, casting a warm glow over the patio, I sat back, thinking about everything Dad had told me.
“You know, Dad,” I said slowly, “I have to admit, that’s pretty clever. Kind of wicked, but clever.”
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 cheat 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 there in comfortable silence for a while, 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 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.
