Our living room renovation took an unexpected turn when our expensive eco-friendly paint disappeared—only to end up in the hands of our opportunistic neighbor. What he didn’t realize was that karma would make sure justice was served in the most satisfying way possible.
The Missing Paint
It all started with our home renovation project. My wife, Karen, and I had decided to redo the living room. We had a clear vision in mind and wanted everything to be perfect. So, we ordered this high-end, eco-friendly paint. It cost a small fortune, but we figured it was worth it for both its aesthetic and environmental benefits.
“We should have the paint by Tuesday,” Karen said, checking the order confirmation. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I can’t wait to get started!”
“Me too,” I replied, sharing her enthusiasm. “This paint is supposed to be the best on the market.”
Tuesday arrived, but the paint didn’t. I checked the front porch multiple times throughout the day, but it remained empty. Growing concerned, I decided to call the delivery company.
“Hello, I ordered some paint, and it was supposed to arrive today,” I explained to the customer service representative.
“Let me check that for you,” she responded politely. After a brief pause, she came back with, “Our records show that it was delivered this morning.”
“But there’s nothing here,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice.
“Could you maybe check with your neighbors?” she suggested kindly.
I thanked her and hung up, though I felt far from satisfied. Determined to solve the mystery, I walked over to our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Thompson, and knocked on her door.
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson,” I greeted her warmly. “By any chance, did you receive a package meant for us?”
“No, dear, I haven’t,” she replied sympathetically. “I hope you find it.”
I made my rounds, checking with a few other neighbors, but no one had seen or received our paint. With every negative response, my frustration and confusion only grew.
A Shocking Discovery
A few days later, Karen came running into the kitchen, a postcard clenched in her hand.
“Look at this!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. It was from our neighbor, Mr. Jenkins.
“Premium eco-friendly paint for sale,” I read aloud. “Delivered to me by mistake, I used some, selling the rest at a generous discount.”
“That’s our paint!” Karen cried, her voice filled with shock and indignation. “He took it!”
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, feeling my anger rise. “I’m going to talk to him right now.”
With the postcard in hand, I marched over to Mr. Jenkins’ house, a mix of nerves and determination fueling my steps. I knocked on his door, and moments later, he appeared, sporting a smug grin.
“Hey there,” he greeted, his eyes flicking to the postcard. “Looking to buy some paint?”
“Actually, Mr. Jenkins, I believe that’s our paint,” I said, struggling to keep my composure. “It was supposed to be delivered to us last Tuesday.”
His grin faltered slightly. “Oh, is that so?” he replied, scratching his head in feigned confusion. “Well, it’s here now. I’ve already used some. If you want the rest, you’ll have to pay for it.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Mr. Jenkins, that paint belongs to us,” I insisted, my patience wearing thin.
“Can you prove it?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because if you can’t, then it’s mine. And like I said, you’ll have to pay for the rest.”
“Show me the paint,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady. “I want to see it.”
“Alright, come in,” he said reluctantly, stepping aside. I walked into his house, my stomach tightening at the thought of having to deal with him further.
In his garage, neatly stacked against the wall, were several cans of paint. I immediately recognized the distinctive labeling. He had indeed taken our order, used part of it, and had the audacity to try selling the rest.
“See? The paint is right here,” he said smugly.
I took a deep breath, realizing that reasoning with him was pointless.
“Keep it. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I will,” he said with a smirk. “Thanks for stopping by.”
I walked out of his house, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. How could someone be so deceitful? Karen was just as upset when I told her what had happened.
“That’s it?” she asked, throwing her hands up. “He just gets away with it?”
“Looks like it,” I sighed, sitting down. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Karma Strikes Back
Two weeks later, Mr. Jenkins was proudly showing off his freshly painted living room. He had invited the neighbors over, one by one, to admire his work. He boasted about how much money he had saved by using high-end paint at a fraction of the cost.
“Come in,” he would say to anyone who stopped by. “Look at my new living room. Isn’t it great?”
People complimented him, and he soaked it all in, looking pleased with himself. Every time I saw him, he gave me a smug little smile, as if he knew he had won.
“Nice work, Jenkins,” Mr. Thompson said one day. “Where’d you get that paint?”
“Oh, just a lucky mistake,” Jenkins replied with a wink. “Saved a fortune on it.”
But then, karma struck.
One afternoon, I noticed Jenkins outside, looking frustrated. He was on the phone, speaking angrily.
“This paint is peeling off the walls!” he yelled. “I need someone to fix this!”
Turns out, he hadn’t prepped the walls properly before painting. Our high-quality paint had started to peel, and it looked terrible. His pride and joy had turned into a disaster.
A few days later, I overheard him talking to another neighbor, Mrs. Green.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to repaint the whole living room.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Mrs. Green replied. “Didn’t you use that fancy paint?”
“Yeah, but it started peeling,” he admitted. “And now the price has doubled. It’s going to cost me a fortune to redo it.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Karma had caught up with him. Mr. Jenkins had to order more paint, and sure enough, the price had doubled since our original purchase. What had once been a great deal for him was now a costly mistake.
And it didn’t stop there. Since he had messed up the first time, he decided to hire a professional to redo the job.
“Hello, I’m here to repaint your living room,” the painter said upon arrival.
“Yeah, come in,” Jenkins responded, looking defeated. “Just make sure it doesn’t peel this time.”
The neighborhood buzzed with talk of Jenkins’ misfortune. No one felt sorry for him. In fact, most people thought he got exactly what he deserved.
“Did you hear about Jenkins?” one neighbor asked another. “He had to hire a pro to fix his mess.”
“Serves him right,” the other replied. “He never should’ve taken that paint in the first place.”
Watching Mr. Jenkins deal with the consequences of his actions was the perfect dose of karma. I never got my paint back, but seeing him pay for what he did was satisfying enough.
From that day on, every time I saw him, I’d flash him a knowing smile. A silent reminder that, sometimes, you really do reap what you sow. And as for Jenkins? Let’s just say he’s been a lot quieter these days.
