The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, cast harsh shadows on the woman standing on my porch, her face a mask of indignation. Mrs. Gable, Grandma’s “entitled neighbor,” as she so lovingly referred to her, was a force of nature, and not a particularly pleasant one.
“How long am I supposed to wait for my share of the will?!” she demanded, her voice a grating rasp that could curdle milk. “My grandkids are coming over, and I want them to take their part of the inheritance before they leave!”
I blinked, trying to process the sheer audacity of her statement. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice calm despite the rising tide of annoyance, “Grandma’s will… it doesn’t mention you.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “Nonsense! We were like family! She wouldn’t leave me out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but everything in the house now belongs to me.”
I offered a small concession. “I’ve packed some boxes for donation. You’re welcome to look through them, see if there’s anything you want.”
“Donation boxes?!” she shrieked. “Your grandma was like family to us! We had to be mentioned in the will. Give it to me! I have to see for myself.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “The will is a legal document.”
She planted her feet, a stubborn look on her face. “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll just stand here until you give me what’s mine.” She proceeded to stand directly in front of my porch, peering into my windows and muttering under her breath.
I sighed. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to give this woman a reality check, a gentle but firm reminder that she wasn’t entitled to anything.
I went inside, grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, and returned to the porch. Mrs. Gable watched me, her eyes filled with suspicion.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice laced with distrust.
“I’m writing you a bill,” I said, my voice deliberately casual.
“A bill? For what?”
“For services rendered,” I said, scribbling on the paper. “Let’s see… ‘Consultation regarding inheritance, one hour… $100.'”
Mrs. Gable’s face turned a shade of purple I didn’t think possible. “Are you serious?!”
“Perfectly,” I said, adding another line. “‘Unauthorized surveillance of private property, one hour… $50.'”
“That’s outrageous!” she sputtered.
“And,” I continued, adding a final line, “‘Emotional distress caused by unwarranted demands, one hour… $150.'” I handed her the paper. “That’ll be $300, Mrs. Gable.”
She snatched the paper from my hand, her eyes scanning the ludicrous list. “You can’t do this!”
“Actually, I can,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “And if you don’t pay, I’ll have to add late fees.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist, her face a mask of fury. “You’re just like your grandma!” she hissed. “Entitled and selfish!”
“Perhaps,” I said, “but I’m also practical. And I value my peace of mind.”
She glared at me for a moment, then turned and stomped off the porch, muttering about lawyers and lawsuits. I watched her go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me.
Later that day, as I sorted through Grandma’s belongings, I found a small, velvet-lined box tucked away in a drawer. Inside was a handwritten note, addressed to me.
“My dearest grandchild,” it read, “I know Mrs. Gable can be… persistent. Remember, you owe no one anything. Your happiness is your own. And sometimes, a little bit of absurdity is the best way to deal with entitlement.”
I smiled, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. Grandma had known exactly what to do. And she had left me the perfect tool to handle it. I had learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the best way to deal with entitled people is to meet their absurdity with your own. And a little bit of humor never hurts.
Woman buys homeless man food and stays with him – he then gives her a note and she realizes the truth.
I recently came over a sociological experiment where a female was left by alone by the sidewalk while she was dressed properly. When most people noticed her, they took the time to stop and inquire about her parents’ whereabouts and whether she needed assistance. Now, the same girl was left standing in the same spot, her garments soiled and tattered. Many individuals went past her, but none of them seemed to pay any attention. And those who did looked on with bitterness.
This is today’s depressing reality. It begs the question, “When did this world turn into a place where egotistical people only consider other people’s appearances?” Or, why is a rich person’s life more valuable than a poor person’s?
Fortunately, we encounter someone along the road who demonstrates that not everyone has lost the capacity to feel sympathy for those who are less fortunate, which gives us hope that all is not lost.
When Casey Fischer noticed a homeless man on the side of the road gathering change, she decided to stop by Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee during her break from courses. Then he went inside, thinking he would buy something to eat.
Fisher could see that the man had barely made $1 in change in his hand as she drew nearer. Then she invited him to join her at her table and offered to pay for his bagel and coffee.
The man identified himself as Chris and told Fischer that the only reason he was frequently treated poorly was that he was homeless.
He acknowledged that his drug misuse made him into the person he detested. Being the person his late mother would have been proud of was basically all he wanted out of life. yet in some way was unable to do so.
Fischer told Chris she was happy to meet him and said she had to leave since it was time for her to return to class. The man, however, motioned for her to wait a moment, got a piece of crumpled paper, scrawled something on it, and gave it to his new friend.
When Fischer opened the note, she was taken aback. She had no idea that her actions would have such a profound impact on the homeless man. This meeting meant far more to him than simply catching up over coffee and bagels. Something in him altered as a result.
The note said, “I wanted to kill myself today.” I no longer do as a result of you. I’m grateful, lovely individual.
We also like to thank this beautiful girl. This world needs you to make the necessary changes in order to continue.
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