Entitled Mom Blocked Our Delivery Spot & Told Us to ‘Work Around Her’—Minutes Later, She Regretted It a Lot

As a foreman, I’ve seen a lot in 20 years of construction, but never anyone quite like the mom who rolled into our no-parking zone like rules were for other people. When I politely asked her to move, she asked me to “deal with it.” I just smiled and karma handled the rest minutes later.

Have you ever had one of those days when someone else’s entitled attitude becomes your unexpected entertainment? Let me tell you about my morning. I’ve never seen karma work so fast… or hit so hard.

I’m Bob and I’m 40 years old. I’m a foreman for a construction crew bustin’ our backs building a house halfway up Mount Hellscape. Okay, not a real mountain, but 250 feet up a narrow footpath sure feels like one when you’re hauling plywood on your shoulder in the July heat.

A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney
A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney

We’ve been working this gig for weeks now. There’s no road to the build site. Just a footpath. That means every damn board, beam, pipe, and nail has to be lugged uphill by hand.

The only break we get? Two sacred parking spots at the bottom of the hill, marked clear as day: No Parking. Tow Away Zone.

Those two spots are our only shot at keeping deliveries running halfway smooth.

A ‘No Parking’ sign | Source: Pexels
A ‘No Parking’ sign | Source: Pexels

“Bob!” my buddy Mike called from the scaffolding. “Jerry’s on the phone. Says the lumber delivery’s coming early.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow and grabbed my cell. “Jerry? How far out are you, pal?”

“Three minutes tops, man. Got your roof trusses and everything else on the manifest.”

“I’ll clear the loading zone. See you in three.”

A construction foreman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
A construction foreman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

I pocketed my phone and started down the narrow dirt path that connected our hilltop site to civilization.

As the path curved, I caught sight of a gleaming white SUV parked squarely in one of our spots. Through the windshield, I could make out a woman texting on her phone, engine idling.

I felt the familiar twitch in my jaw. The elementary school half a block away meant we dealt with this at least twice daily. Usually, a polite request was enough. Usually. But not always.

Kids in an elementary school | Source: Pexels
Kids in an elementary school | Source: Pexels

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I called, approaching her driver’s side window with what I hoped was a friendly expression. “You’re parked in our construction loading zone. We’ve got a lumber delivery arriving any minute.”

She glanced up from her phone, window descending halfway.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, barely looking at me. “Your truck isn’t even here. Take a chill pill, dude.”

The window hummed back up and the conversation was over.

A furious woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney
A furious woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

“Ma’am, please—” I started, but the rumble of a heavy engine cut me off.

Jerry’s massive delivery truck appeared around the corner, loaded with enough lumber to frame our entire roof. I waved him forward, pointing to our predicament seated in the car.

I knocked on the lady’s window again. After several taps, it lowered halfway.

“WHAT?” she snapped.

“The delivery truck is here,” I explained, keeping my voice calm, “You’re parked in a clearly marked no-parking zone. We really need you to move now.”

A lumber truck on the street | Source: Midjourney
A lumber truck on the street | Source: Midjourney

She looked past me at Jerry’s idling truck, then back to me with narrowed eyes.

“Can’t you guys just unload around me? Like, what’s the big deal? It’s not that hard.”

The window went up again and my customer service smile froze on my face.

“Fine,” I muttered, walking away. “We’ll work around you.”

“What’s the plan, Bob?” Jerry asked, leaning out his window, watching me approach.

A slow smile spread across my face. “She wants us to work around her. Let’s do exactly that.”

Jerry’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Say no more!”

A smiling truck driver | Source: Midjourney
A smiling truck driver | Source: Midjourney

“Pull in as close to her driver’s side as you legally can,” I instructed. “Let’s see how she likes being boxed in between you and the porta-potty.”

Jerry nodded, expertly maneuvering his truck to block the SUV’s driver’s side door with barely an inch to spare. With the porta-potty on one end and a legally parked car on the other, our entitled mom was now completely boxed in.

“Perfect,” I said, unable to suppress my grin.

“She looks mad,” Jerry chuckled, glancing in his side mirror.

A white car trapped between a truck and a porta-potty | Source: Midjourney
A white car trapped between a truck and a porta-potty | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s start unloading. I’ll make a call.”

“Who ya calling?” Jerry asked, already lowering the truck gate.

“Parking enforcement. Just to cover our bases.”

“Bob!” someone shouted from up the hill. I turned to see my crew arriving to help with the unloading.

“Let’s move, guys! We’ve got a roof to build!”

As my crew began the backbreaking process of hauling the lumber up the hill, I noticed movement in the SUV. Our entitled mom just realized her predicament. I could see her gesturing wildly on her phone, occasionally shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

An annoyed woman talking on the phone while seated in her car | Source: Midjourney
An annoyed woman talking on the phone while seated in her car | Source: Midjourney

“The parking officer said she’ll be here in about 30 minutes,” I told Jerry as we supervised the unloading.

“That long?” Jerry sighed, then brightened. “Well, we’ll still be here. This is at least an hour’s job.”


Twenty minutes into our unloading, a small boy in a blue backpack approached the SUV, tapping on the passenger window.

Entitled mom had finally realized she couldn’t exit through her driver’s side door. We watched as she awkwardly climbed across the center console, tumbling out the passenger side in a less-than-graceful heap.

A boy with a backpack | Source: Pexels
A boy with a backpack | Source: Pexels

“Mommy, why are you coming out that way?” the boy asked loudly enough for us to hear.

“Because these IDIOTS blocked me in,” she hissed, straightening her designer blouse while glaring in our direction. She ushered her son into the back seat, then stormed over to where Jerry and I stood checking off inventory items.

“I need to leave NOW!” she demanded, arms crossed tightly. “Move. Your. Truck.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Jerry beat me to it.

“Ma’am, in order to unload the lumber, we had to unstrap it,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “Company policy strictly prohibits moving the truck with an unsecured load. Safety regulations. I’m sure you understand.”

Her face flushed crimson. “Trash your policy! I have somewhere to be!”

A furious woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
A furious woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

“We asked you nicely to move earlier,” I reminded her. “You told us to work around you. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“This is ridiculous! I’m going to report both of you!”

At that moment, a parking enforcement vehicle pulled up behind Jerry’s truck. Officer Martinez stepped out, clipboard in hand.

The entitled mom hadn’t noticed the new arrival yet. She was too busy jabbing her finger in my direction.

A female police officer | Source: Pexels
A female police officer | Source: Pexels

“I swear to God, if you don’t move this truck right now—”

I couldn’t resist. “Can’t you just pull out around it? It’s not that hard.”

Her eyes widened as she recognized her own words thrown back at her. The look on her face was worth every second of this confrontation.

“Screw you!” she spat, spinning on her heel and marching back to her SUV.

Officer Martinez approached us, eyebrows raised. “Morning, Bob. Got your call about the parking situation.”

Before I could explain further, the roar of an engine drew our attention. The entitled mom had climbed back into her SUV through the passenger door and thrown it into reverse.

“Oh no!” Jerry murmured.

An angry woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney
An angry woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

The SUV jumped backward like a spooked goat on roller skates and plowed straight into our poor porta-potty.The thing tumbled, farted out a splash of blue goo, and lay there like it needed a minute.

“Holy cow!” I breathed.

The entitled mom shifted to drive and accelerated toward the curb, apparently attempting to mount the sidewalk to escape. The SUV made it halfway up before getting stuck, wheels spinning uselessly and the engine screaming.

Officer Martinez was already running toward the vehicle. “TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE! NOW!”

The woman froze, finally noticing the uniformed officer. The color drained from her face as she realized what she’d done… and who had witnessed it.

A lady cop talking to someone | Source: Pexels
A lady cop talking to someone | Source: Pexels

“Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Officer Martinez ordered, hand on her radio.

“I… these men trapped me,” she stammered, reluctantly emerging from the passenger side.

“Hands where I can see them.”

“My son is in the car.”

“I’m aware. That’s going to be an additional concern.” Officer Martinez spoke into her radio, requesting backup.

A startled woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
A startled woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

Within minutes, our entitled mom was sitting on the curb in handcuffs, her indignation replaced by panic. Her son watched wide-eyed from the back seat as a second police car arrived.

“She told us to work around her,” Jerry explained to the second officer, a tall man named Rodriguez. “So we did.”

“Then she decided to take matters into her own hands,” I added, gesturing to the destroyed porta-potty and the SUV still perched awkwardly on the curb.

“I never refused to move!” she shouted from her curb seat. “They never asked me!”

Officer Martinez shook her head. “Ma’am, they called parking enforcement when you first refused to move. That’s why I’m here.”

A police officer handing a violation ticket | Source: Pexels
A police officer handing a violation ticket | Source: Pexels

“This is all a misunderstanding. I was just picking up my son.”

“In a clearly marked no-parking zone,” Officer Rodriguez noted, writing in his notepad. “And then she operated that vehicle recklessly with a child inside.”

The woman’s shoulders slumped.

“Home telephone number?” Officer Rodriguez asked the boy. “We need to call someone to pick you up.”

As Jerry signed off on his delivery and prepared to leave, the tow truck arrived to remove the SUV from the curb. The entitled mom was being helped into the back of Officer Rodriguez’s patrol car, all fight gone from her posture.

An officer watching a person being escorted toward a cruiser | Source: Pexels
An officer watching a person being escorted toward a cruiser | Source: Pexels

“Driving on a suspended license too,” Officer Martinez informed me as she finished her report. “Plus child endangerment, destruction of property, and reckless driving. She’ll be spending more than a few minutes dealing with this.”

I watched as an older woman, presumably the boy’s Grandma, arrived to collect him, her face tight with worry and resignation, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d been called to clean up her daughter’s mess.

That evening, as the sun set over our hilltop construction site, I sat on a stack of newly delivered lumber, nursing a cold coke with my crew.

“You should’ve seen her face when you threw her own words back at her,” Jerry laughed, cracking open another can.

A man laughing while holding a can of beverage | Source: Midjourney
A man laughing while holding a can of beverage | Source: Midjourney

“I almost felt bad,” I admitted. “Almost.”

“Don’t, buddy. Some people need to learn the hard way.”

“What was the damage on the porta-potty?” someone asked.

“Company’s sending a replacement tomorrow,” I replied. “Thankfully it was due for service anyway.”

The crew laughed, and we raised our cans in a toast.

“To entitled parents everywhere,” Jerry proclaimed. “May the parking spots they steal always come with a side of instant karma.”

“And may they learn that in construction, as in life,” I added, “sometimes the harder you push, the more you get stuck.”

A chuckling foreman holding a beverage can | Source: Midjourney
A chuckling foreman holding a beverage can | Source: Midjourney

As twilight settled over our half-built house, I couldn’t help but smile. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, more materials to haul, and more problems to solve. But at least our parking spots would be clear.

And somewhere across the town, one mom learned a very expensive lesson about patience, respect, and the high cost of entitlement. Maybe next time she’d take the chill pill instead!

A no parking zone | Source: Pexels
A no parking zone | Source: Pexels

Here’s another story: In a crowded airport, a teenager mocked a janitor, thinking it was funny. What he didn’t realize was that his father was watching silently… from behind.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Neighbor Asked My Son to Wash His Car for a Month, Then Refused to Pay – I Taught Him a Lesson of My Own

I could tell something was wrong when Ben walked through the door that Friday evening. He was dragging his feet, and the usual brightness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

His hands were still wet, probably from wringing out the towels after washing another car, and he avoided eye contact as he dropped onto the couch.

A frustated little boy | Source: Midjourney

A frustated little boy | Source: Midjourney

“Hey, bud, what’s going on?” I called from the kitchen.

I had planned on making him his favorite grilled chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. I was going to have his plate ready the moment he walked in.

But looking at him now, I was worried. Ben was only 14 but recently got a taste of making money and wanted to be independent.

Plates of food | Source: Midjourney

Plates of food | Source: Midjourney

“Come on,” I said, wiping my hands. “You can tell me anything!”

For a second, he didn’t answer but stared at the ground. My heart sank when I saw the frustration etched on his face.

It was like he was trying to find the words but didn’t know how to get them out.

A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney

“He… he didn’t pay me,” Ben finally muttered.

“What do you mean? Didn’t Mr. Peterson agree to pay you $50 each time you washed his car?” I asked, feeling my own brow furrow.

Ben let out a sigh that sounded far too heavy for a 14-year-old.

“Yeah, but today, after I finished washing the car for the fourth time this month, he said it wasn’t ‘spotless’ and that I wouldn’t get paid. At all! He said I should have done a better job if I wanted my money.”

An upset boy | Source: Midjourney

An upset boy | Source: Midjourney

I felt my fists tighten. Mr. Peterson, that smug neighbor of ours who always had something slick to say. He strutted around in his suits, making sure everyone noticed the shine on his precious black Jeep.

“It’s a beautiful car, isn’t it?” he would ask, leaning out of his car. “Stunning!”

A few months ago, he became interested in Ben, especially after seeing Ben wash my car.

“Whoa! You’ve done a great job on your mom’s car, Ben! What do you say about washing my car every Friday? I’ll pay you, of course!”

A Jeep parked in a driveway | Source: Midjourney

A Jeep parked in a driveway | Source: Midjourney

Initially, I thought that it was a compliment, but now I could see it for what it really was:

A way to exploit cheap labor.

“You’ve been washing that car every week this month, haven’t you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Ben nodded, sinking deeper into the couch.

A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney

“Yeah, I’ve spent about three hours for the past four weeks, just making sure that it was clean. I even used the hand-vacuum under the seats and everything. But he said that I didn’t deserve to be paid.”

A flush of anger bloomed across my chest.

I knew Ben had done a great job. Whenever he did our car, I was always so impressed by him. And anyway, Mr. Peterson’s car gleamed like a showroom model when my son was done with it.

A frustrated boy | Source: Midjourney

A frustrated boy | Source: Midjourney

This wasn’t about the car being clean. No, sir. It was about Mr. Peterson being a jerk.

And now?

Now, Ben was left feeling like his hard work wasn’t worth anything.

“How much does he owe you?” I asked.

Ben thought for a moment.

A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney

A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney

“Four washes, Mom. So, $200.”

I pulled out my wallet and counted $200 in crisp bills. I handed it to him, watching his eyes widen in surprise.

“Here, you earned this, sweetheart.”

“Mom, you don’t have to. It was Mr. Peterson’s job to pay me!” he exclaimed.

I shook my head, cutting him off.

A woman taking money out of her wallet | Source: Midjourney

A woman taking money out of her wallet | Source: Midjourney

“I’m not done with Mr. Peterson, honey. He doesn’t get to treat you like this and walk away.”

Ben looked uncertain, his eyes flicking from the money in his hand to me.

“But, Mom!”

“No ‘buts,’ Ben,” I said, putting my wallet away. “Trust me, I’m going to teach Mr. Peterson a lesson about what happens when you take advantage of someone’s hard work. Now, come on, let’s eat. I’m starving!”

Ben smiled and sat down at the table.

A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney

A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, smiling.

The next morning, I woke up with a plan. Mr. Peterson had no idea what was coming. I glanced out the window and, sure enough, there he was, standing in his silk pajamas, meticulously polishing his Jeep like a man obsessed.

I smiled and headed outside, casually walking toward him in my yoga clothes.

“Good morning, Mr. Peterson!” I called out cheerfully.

A man standing next to a Jeep in pajamas | Source: Midjourney

A man standing next to a Jeep in pajamas | Source: Midjourney

He looked up from his car, his usual smug expression already in place.

“Morning, Irene,” he said. “What can I do for you? But make it quick, I have brunch with the family soon.”

I could have rolled my eyes.

“Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to check in about Ben’s payment for washing your car,” I said. “He mentioned you weren’t satisfied with his work yesterday.”

A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney

Mr. Peterson straightened his back and crossed his arms.

“Yes, that’s right, Irene. The car wasn’t spotless, so I didn’t see the need to pay him. It’s a learning experience, you know? Anyway, he’s a young lad. The world has to humble him.”

The anger from the night before flared up again, but I kept my face neutral, even smiling a little.

“A learning experience, huh?” I said. “Interesting. Ben did tell me that you were a man of your word… and he mentioned that you agreed to pay him $50 per wash, regardless of how spotless it was. And wouldn’t you know it! I’ve got the pictures he took of the car after every wash.”

A man standing next to a Jeep | Source: Midjourney

A man standing next to a Jeep | Source: Midjourney

The smugness in his expression cracked a little.

“Pictures?” Mr. Peterson asked.

“Yes, pictures. He enjoyed sending them to his grandfather after every wash. He is very proud of his work.”

Mr. Peterson grunted.

“And anyway, it seems to me like a verbal agreement was made. And breaking that? Well, that’s a breach of contract, isn’t it? Should I speak to my lawyer about this?”

A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney

A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney

The color drained from his face.

“There’s no need for all that!” he exclaimed.

I held up a hand.

“Oh, I think there is. See, Ben worked hard, and you’re trying to cheat him out of what he earned. So, here’s the deal. You pay my son the $200 today, or I’ll make sure everyone in this neighborhood knows how you treat kids who work for you.”

A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney

He just stared at me.

“And if that doesn’t convince you, I’m more than happy to take legal action,” I continued.

I could see the panic settle into his features now. The neighbor with the perfect lawn and the perfect Jeep was suddenly sweating bullets into his silk pajamas.

He opened the car door and fumbled for his wallet, quickly counting out the cash.

A man's wallet | Source: Midjourney

A man’s wallet | Source: Midjourney

“Here’s your money,” he muttered, handing over $200 in crumpled bills.

“Great. It’s been good doing business with you,” I said with a smile. “But please, understand that my son will not touch a car of yours again.”

He nodded grimly.

Inside, Ben looked up from the couch when I walked in. He had a bowl of cereal in his hands, and his eyes widened when I handed him the cash.

A boy holding a bowl of cereal | Source: Midjourney

A boy holding a bowl of cereal | Source: Midjourney

“You actually did it!” he exclaimed.

I grinned, feeling a fierce sense of pride.

“No one messes with my son,” I said. “Especially when they think they can get away with not paying what’s owed. Next time, if someone tries to pull a stunt like that, you’ll know exactly how to handle it.”

“Does this mean that I have to give you the $200 back?” he grinned.

A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney

A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney

“No,” I laughed. “But I think you can take me out on a mother-son date for lunch today?”

“Deal, Mom,” he said.

Later, when we were sitting in a cute bistro, Ben leaned across his chair, squinting at the sign from the ice cream parlor across the road.

“Help wanted,” he read. “What do you think, Mom? A weekend job at an ice cream parlor?”

A mom and son duo at a bistro | Source: Midjourney

A mom and son duo at a bistro | Source: Midjourney

“Go for it,” I laughed, getting into my burger. “But if the boss is mean, you know who to call.”

My son smiled at me and nodded slowly before picking up a fry.

What would you have done?

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Made My Boss Regret Humiliating My Wife’s Appearance in Front of the Whole Office

When Colin and his wife, Alice, end up working at the same company for business tyrant Mr. Taylor, they think that they’ve gotten a sweet deal while they branch out to their passions. But after one mistake at work, Alice is ridiculed in front of everyone, causing Colin to retaliate. As the couple lose their jobs, Colin is left fighting for revenge…

Working as a driver for the owner of a mid-sized company was never the dream, but it paid the bills. If I had to be honest, I would tell you that what I had always wanted to do was own my own construction company, but life often works in funny ways.

A smiling man dressed as a chauffer | Source: Midjourney

A smiling man dressed as a chauffer | Source: Midjourney

The silver lining to being a driver was that I got to go to fancy places and I got to work alongside my wife, Alice. We’d met years ago, long before either of us ended up working at the same place. But when Alice got the job as Mr. Taylor’s personal assistant, she dropped him my resume.

“It’s going to be okay, Colin,” she told me one evening when we were making pasta for dinner.

“He needs a personal driver, and you can do that. Neither of us have to stay there forever, but the pay is good enough for the moment. So, until something better comes along for us, we’ll have to make do.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“I know,” I agreed.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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