My 12-year-old son Ben had been shoveling snow for our wealthy neighbor, Mr. Dickinson, for weeks. He was excited to earn $10 a day to buy gifts for our family. But when Mr. Dickinson refused to pay him, citing a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken.
As a mother, it was difficult to see my child taken advantage of. I knew I had to teach Mr. Dickinson a lesson about fairness. But how?
It all began on a snowy morning in December. Ben had been shoveling snow for Mr. Dickinson’s driveway, and I had been watching from the kitchen window. When Ben came inside, his eyes were shining with excitement.
“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” he exclaimed.
I smiled, ruffling his hair. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. What’s the plan for all this cash?”
Ben’s face lit up. “I’m buying you a scarf, and a dollhouse for Annie, and saving what’s left for a telescope.”
I was proud of Ben for working hard and being thoughtful. But when Mr. Dickinson refused to pay him, I knew I had to take action.
I decided to teach Mr. Dickinson a lesson about fairness. I gathered my family, and together we shoveled snow onto Mr. Dickinson’s pristine driveway. We worked tirelessly, piling the snow high.
As the morning wore on, Mr. Dickinson emerged from his house, his face red with anger.
“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”
Dickinson looked confused. “Quantum what?”
I explained, “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”
Mr. Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He realized he’d lost and stormed back to his house.
Later that evening, Mr. Dickinson returned with an envelope containing the $80 he owed Ben. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.
As we closed the door, Ben hugged me tight. “Thanks, Mom.”
I ruffled his hair. “No, thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
