Entitled Homeowners Refused to Pay My Plumber Dad – They Thought They Were the Smartest, but He Had the Last Laugh

When two arrogant homeowners refused to pay my hardworking plumber father what he deserved, they thought they could escape without consequences. They didn’t realize their pride would come back to bite them in a surprising way. This is how my dad turned their dream bathroom into a nightmare.

Hi, I’m Phoebe, but my dad calls me Pippi. Let me introduce you to Pete, my dad. He’s 55, rugged with a white beard, and his hands show a lifetime of hard work. He’s the top plumber around and my hero—no superhero cape necessary.

Dad approaches each job as if it’s his own home. If even one tile is off, he’ll redo the whole bathroom without hesitation. However, some people think they can exploit his commitment. That’s exactly what happened with a particular snooty couple. They had no idea who they were messing with.

It all began a few months back when I visited him. I found him on the patio, enjoying his cigar, laughing heartily.

“What’s so funny, old man?” I asked, sitting beside him.

His eyes twinkled as he replied, “Oh, Pippi, you won’t believe what just happened. This is a real kicker!”

He leaned closer, still chuckling. “Remember the bathroom remodel I was working on? Well, let me tell you about the Carlyles—or as I call them, the Pinchpennies.”

I settled in, knowing this was going to be a great tale. Dad’s stories never disappoint.

“These folks demanded the best. New tiles, fancy fixtures, everything. They picked every tiny detail themselves, right down to the toilet paper holder’s placement.”

“Sounds like a dream job,” I noted.

Dad snorted. “It seemed that way at first. But then…” His expression darkened. “What happened, Dad?” I prompted.

“Well, Pippi, on the final day, as I’m wrapping up the grouting, they’re lounging on the sofa, planning to cheat me.” He mimicked Mrs. Carlyle, “‘Oh, Pete, this isn’t what we wanted at all! These tiles are all wrong!’”

I gasped. “But they chose everything, right?”

“Exactly!” Dad exclaimed, frustrated. “Then they dared to offer only half the payment. HALF!”

My jaw dropped. “HALF?? After all your hard work for two weeks? What did you do?”

Dad’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “First, I tried to reason with them. But they wouldn’t budge. Mr. Carlyle blustered, ‘Just finish the job and GET LOST, Pete. We’re not paying a penny more.’”

I felt furious. “That’s so unfair! You worked so hard for them!”

Dad patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Pippi. Your old man had a trick up his sleeve.”

“What did you do?” I leaned in, eager for more.

Dad grinned broadly. “I finished the job, alright. But for the grout…”

“…I used sugar and honey,” he revealed, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

I blinked, puzzled. “Sugar and honey? In the grout? Why?”

Dad leaned back, puffing on his cigar. “Just wait and see, Pippi. Just wait and see.” He explained how he packed his tools, accepted the half-payment, and left smiling, knowing what would unfold.

“But Dad,” I cut in, “wouldn’t they notice something was off with the grout?”

He chuckled. “Not immediately. It looked fine when it dried. But a few weeks later…”

“What happened then?” I asked, hanging on his every word.

Dad’s grin widened. “That’s when the real fun began.”

“Imagine this,” he said, gesturing with his cigar. “The Pinchpennies thought they had outsmarted old Pete. Then one day, Mrs. Carlyle steps into the shower, and what does she find?”

I shrugged, completely absorbed.

“Ants!” he exclaimed. “Loads of them, marching along the grout lines like it’s a freeway!”

I burst out laughing. “No way!”

“It gets better,” Dad continued. “The next day, it was cockroaches. Then all sorts of bugs started showing up.”

I was astounded. “That’s wild! But how do you know all this?”

Dad winked. “Johnny, my old buddy and their neighbor, has been filling me in.”

“And the Carlyles?” I queried. “What did they do?”

Dad’s eyes sparkled joyfully. “Oh, Pippi, they tried everything. They spent a ton on pest control, but nothing worked. Want to know the best part?”

I nodded, all ears.

“They blamed the pest control sprays for ruining the grout! Can you believe it?” Dad burst into laughter.

As his laughter subsided, I felt a twinge of sympathy for the Carlyles. “But Dad, wasn’t that a bit… extreme?”

Dad’s expression softened. “Pippi, these people were trying to rob me of my hard-earned money. Two weeks of grueling work, and they wanted to pay half?”

I nodded slowly, understanding better. “I see, but still…”

“Listen,” Dad leaned in. “In this business, your reputation is key. If people knew I let clients cheat me, I’d be out of work in no time.”

He made a good point. “So, what happened next?”

Dad smiled. “Johnny told me they had to redo the whole bathroom about a year later.”

My eyes widened. “Did that solve the problem?”

Dad shook his head, chuckling. “Nope. The sugar was still there, underneath. The bugs kept returning.”

“And the Carlyles?” I probed. “Did they figure it out?”

Dad’s eyes twinkled. “Clueless. Last I heard, they were redoing the bathroom… again.”

Dad sighed, his tone serious. “Pippi, I’ve never done anything like this before. I hope I never have to again. But the Carlyles, they weren’t just cheating me. They were insulting my work, my pride.”

I nodded, grasping the gravity. “They thought they could push you around.”

“Exactly,” Dad affirmed, pointing his cigar at me. “And in this industry, word spreads. If I let them off, who knows how many others might try the same?”

“I guess I see your point,” I conceded. “But still, bugs in the bathroom? That’s pretty gross, Dad.”

He chuckled. “I never said it was a pretty form of revenge. But it worked.”

“So, did you hear from them again?” I asked, still curious.

Dad shook his head. “Nope. But Johnny keeps me posted. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s told me.”

“Like what?” I leaned in, eager for more gossip.

Dad’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Once, Mrs. Carlyle was hosting a fancy dinner. Johnny said he could hear her scream from his house when she found a cockroach in the guest bathroom!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That must’ve been embarrassing!”

“You bet,” Dad laughed. “And Mr. Carlyle once tried fixing it himself. He bought every bug spray available and went to town in that bathroom.”

“Did that help?” I asked, knowing the likely answer.

Dad shook his head, grinning. “Nope. Just made the house reek of chemicals for weeks. And the bugs? They returned as soon as the smell dissipated.”

I shook my head, amazed. “Incredible. How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, over a year now,” Dad replied, enjoying his cigar. “Johnny says they’re desperate. They’re even considering selling the place and moving.”

I whistled. “Wow, Dad. That’s some lasting revenge.”

He nodded, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Maybe it dragged on longer than I intended. But as they say about karma…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It really is a… well, you know.” We laughed together at that.

As the sun set, casting a warm glow, I sat back, reflecting on Dad’s story.

“You know, Dad,” I began thoughtfully, “I have to admit, that was pretty clever. Kind of wicked, but clever.”

Dad nodded, pleased with himself.

“Sometimes, Pippi, you need to teach people a lesson they won’t forget.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I bet the Carlyles won’t cheat anyone again soon.”

“That’s for sure,” Dad chuckled. “And every update from Johnny is another good laugh for us.”

We enjoyed the peaceful evening in silence for a while, watching the sky turn pink and orange.

“Hey, Dad?” I finally said.

“Yes, Pippi?”

“One promise?”

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 hugged me tightly. “That’s my girl!”

As we laughed and watched the sunset, I thought about the Carlyles and their bug-ridden bathroom. It was a reminder that sometimes, karma comes with six legs and a sweet tooth.