A rowdy teenager caused trouble for the school janitor and felt guilty. He learned about the man’s life and decided to do something remarkable for him, and only then did he realize something essential.
“Jeez!” Holden spat when he saw the mess he made on the floor. He and his friend were only going to play a prank on another student and paint his locker. However, he dropped the paint can in the middle of the basketball court, which would certainly be noticeable.
“Come on, Holden! Let’s go! Let’s go!” his friend, Andrew, yelled, and they both dropped everything and ran away.
They weren’t bad kids, but they were undoubtedly rowdy and rebellious, skipping classes all the time and trying to prank others. However, they weren’t bullies and didn’t have any malicious intent. Holden just hated school and wanted anarchy like many teenagers did at that age.
“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”
Fortunately, no one discovered what they had done, but Holden passed by the basketball court later and saw the old school janitor cleaning things up and heard the screams of the principal, Mr. Figgins.
“We have the prep rally tomorrow, and scouts from all over the country are coming! This needs to come out immediately!” the principal yelled at the poor old man, who hung his head and tried to clean the mess. However, the paint was oil-based, and it was an arduous task.
“Yes, Mr. Figgins. I’ll make sure it’s ready for tomorrow,” the janitor said and kept scrubbing. The principal threw his arms around some more, yelled some demands, and walked off in a huff.
Holden felt terrible, watching the old man on his knees trying to fix his mistake, so he did something completely uncharacteristic. He walked into the court, grabbed a rag, kneeled, and started cleaning with the janitor.
The old man looked at him for a second. “I guess you did this, right?” he commented and kept scrubbing.
“Sir, please. I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t know you would get in trouble for it,” Holden apologized sincerely and continued moving the rag up and down. “Please don’t tell the principal. My mom would kill me.”
The old man sighed and shrugged. “I won’t tell anyone, but you have to help me until this floor is back to normal,” he negotiated, and Holden nodded rapidly.
While they worked, they talked. The janitor’s name was Fred. At first, their conversation was about basketball and football, as the school has some of the best teams in the state. But then, Holden asked the old man why he was working at his age. Based on the wrinkles on his face and his frail arms, he had to be way over 60.
“Well, I need to pay a mortgage, kid,” Fred responded with pursed lips. “And I’m 76.”
“You haven’t paid your mortgage still. Wow. That means I can never dream of having a house of my own,” Holden commented.
“Well, things are hard now, kid. But actually, I never wanted to own a house. I rented most of my life. I bought that house for my daughter. She needed her own place, and I wanted to give her something,” Fred revealed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I put a down payment for her and helped her with the mortgage for years. But then, she died in a car accident, and it was all on me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Holden muttered, and they stayed quiet for a while. “Why don’t you sell the house now?”
“Where would I live, kid? With rent these days, I would be homeless. And I have to keep working to eat,” the janitor continued. He wasn’t bitter or sad. He was just realistic.
“But you might not ever retire!” the teenager added.
“That’s true. I just hope I can pay the mortgage before I die,” he continued.
“How much is it?” Holden asked boldly.
“Well, I believe it’s a little under $30,000.”
“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”
But Fred laughed. “Let’s just work, kid.”
They finally removed all traces of the paint, but they both went home late that night… and Holden couldn’t sleep. He wanted to do something nice for the old man who hadn’t gotten him in trouble.
A few days later, he confessed what he had done to his mother and told her everything; then, he asked her how they could raise money for the old janitor. Maybe, if they paid his mortgage, Fred could retire.
His mother said that he could mow lawns around the neighborhood. It was mowing season, and tons of people were looking for help. So, Holden did so and surprisingly got a ton of clients. He grabbed his dad’s lawnmower and worked hard.
But after a few days, he realized the task was almost impossible. He would have to work for years, just like Fred, to raise the money, so he talked to his neighbors whose kids also went to the school. He took a picture of Fred from the school’s website and posted it online, telling his story, and finally decided to open a crowdfunding link for the janitor.
To his shock, the money started coming in, and $30,000 were raised in just a week.
After that, Holden and his mother talked to the school principal about having a special ceremony to honor Fred and surprise him. The teenager also had to come clean to the principal about the paint on the basketball court. Finally, Mr. Figgins agreed.
The whole school heard the story, and they all gathered at the basketball court and cheered when Fred came in. The old janitor had no idea what was going on as he didn’t have social media. But Holden presented him with the money, and many in the crowd cried as the two of them hugged. Fred officially retired that week.
Holden later learned that Fred had a granddaughter, Erin, who was only a few years younger than him, and the janitor wanted to pay off the house so she could have it when he was gone. She and Holden became great friends as he started visiting the old man after school and helping out.
He stopped hanging out with Andrew and started taking his classes seriously. The entire experience taught him that you had to work hard for everything.
His rebellious ways wholly disappeared, and he actually graduated at the top of his class a few years later. The entire school staff was shocked and pleased by his 180º turn, as it was something teachers rarely ever saw. And it was all due to Fred and that afternoon spent cleaning some paint off the floor.
What can we learn from this story?
You must apologize and do your best to atone for your errors. Holden got the old janitor in trouble, but he readily apologized and tried to make things better.
It only takes one experience or person to change someone’s perspective on life. After meeting Fred, Holden changed for good, as he learned that life was hard and only those who worked hard and honestly could live happily.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
Man in Walmart Demanded That I Give up My Wheelchair for His Tired Wife – Karma Got Him before I Could
I never expected a trip to Walmart to turn into a showdown over my wheelchair, with a stranger demanding I give it up for his tired wife. As the situation spiraled and a crowd gathered, I realized this ordinary shopping day was taking an extraordinary turn.
I was cruising down the aisles in my wheelchair, feeling pretty good after scoring some deals, when a guy—let’s call him Mr. Entitled—blocked my path.
“Hey, you,” he barked, “My wife needs to sit down. Give her your wheelchair.”
I blinked, thinking it was a joke. “Uh, sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” he snapped, gesturing to his wife. “She’s been on her feet all day. You’re young, you can walk.”
I tried to keep my cool. “I actually can’t walk. That’s why I have the chair.”
Mr. Entitled’s face turned red. “Don’t lie to me! Now get up and let my wife sit down!”
My jaw dropped. I glanced at his wife, who looked mortified.
“Look, sir,” I said, patience wearing thin, “I need this chair to get around. There are benches near the front of the store.”
But he wasn’t having it. He stepped closer, looming over me. “Listen here, you little —”
“Is there a problem here?”
I’ve never been so relieved to hear a Walmart employee’s voice. A guy named Miguel appeared, looking concerned.
Mr. Entitled whirled on Miguel. “Yes! This girl won’t give up her wheelchair for my tired wife. Make her get out of it!”
Miguel’s eyebrows shot up. “Sir, we can’t ask customers to give up mobility aids. That’s not appropriate.”
Mr. Entitled sputtered. “What’s not appropriate is this faker taking up a chair when my wife needs it!”
People were starting to stare. Miguel tried to calm things down, speaking in a low tone. “Sir, please lower your voice. We have benches available. I can show you where they are.”
But Mr. Entitled was on a roll. He jabbed a finger at Miguel’s chest. “Don’t tell me to lower my voice! I want to speak to your manager right now!”
As he ranted, he stepped back—right into a display of canned vegetables. He stumbled, arms windmilling, and went down hard.
CRASH!
Cans went flying everywhere. Mr. Entitled lay sprawled on the floor, surrounded by dented tins of green beans and corn. For a moment, everything was silent.
His wife rushed forward. “Frank! Are you okay?”
Frank tried to get up, but slipped on a rolling can and went down again with another crash.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Miguel shot me a look, fighting a smile too.
“Sir, please don’t move,” Miguel said, reaching for his walkie-talkie. “I’m calling for assistance.”
Frank ignored him, struggling to his feet again. “This is ridiculous! I’ll sue this whole store!”
By now, a small crowd had gathered. A security guard and a manager appeared, taking in the scene—Frank standing unsteadily, cans everywhere, Miguel trying to keep things calm.
“What’s going on here?” the manager asked.
Frank opened his mouth to rant again, but his wife cut him off. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “We were just leaving. Come on, Frank.”
She grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the exit. As they passed me, she paused. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Then they were gone, leaving a mess of cans and confused onlookers in their wake.
The manager turned to me. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the disturbance. Are you alright?”
I nodded, finding my voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wow. That was something else.”
He apologized again and started organizing the cleanup. People began to disperse, but a few helped pick up cans.
An older woman approached me, patting my arm. “You handled that so well, dear. Some people just don’t think before they speak.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m just glad it’s over.”
As the commotion died down, I decided to finish my shopping. No way was I letting Frank ruin my entire trip. I rolled down the next aisle, trying to shake off the residual tension.
“Hey,” a voice called out. I turned to see Miguel jogging up to me. “I just wanted to check if you’re really okay. That guy was way out of line.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for stepping in. Does this kind of thing happen often?”
Miguel shook his head. “Not like that, no. But you’d be surprised how entitled some people can be. It’s like they forget basic human decency when they walk through the doors.”
We chatted for a bit as I continued shopping. Miguel shared some of his own customer service horror stories, which honestly made me feel a bit better. At least I wasn’t alone in dealing with difficult people.
As I left the store, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the whole experience. What a day. But you know what? For every Frank out there, there are way more decent folks—like Miguel, that nice older lady, and curious kids.
I headed home, my faith in humanity a little battered but still intact. And hey, at least I had a wild story to tell. Plus, I got some free cereal out of the deal. Silver linings, right?
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