Odd Jobs

A neighborhood kid was looking for ways to earn money. He knocked on the door of one house, and when the man answered the boy asked, “Hey mister, got any odd jobs I can do?”

The man indeed had a job for the boy to do He handed the boy a can of red paint and a brush. “Paint my porch. ”The boy was eager to do a good job and the man went back inside. A couple hours later, the boy knocked on the door again. “Okay, mister, I’m done painting But I gotta tell ya, that’s not a Porsche, it’s a Lamborghini.”

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I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS LEAVING A TICKET ON MY CAR—BUT IT WAS A $50 SURPRISE It had already been one of those days. You know the kind—late to work, spilled coffee on my shirt, toddler meltdown in the backseat because I gave him the wrong granola bar. And of course, the bumper situation wasn’t helping. I’d been driving around with it half-dangling for weeks, hoping no one would notice. Spoiler: they noticed. So when I saw a folded piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper, I immediately groaned. “Great,” I muttered. “Now a ticket.” But when I unfolded it, I froze. It wasn’t a fine. Or a complaint. Or one of those passive-aggressive notes about how my car was an “eyesore for the neighborhood.” It was a $50 bill. And a handwritten message that just said: “I saw that your car is missing a front bumper. Hopefully this helps a little. Sincerely, Someone trying to be a better person this year.” I just stood there, holding it, blinking like an idiot in the middle of the grocery store lot while people walked past like nothing happened. I looked around. No one in sight. No camera crew waiting to catch a reaction. Just the sound of my son whispering from the backseat, “Mommy? Are you happy-crying?” But here’s the weird part. I took the note home. Slipped it into the junk drawer. And this morning, when I went to show it to my sister… There was another one. Different handwriting. Same (continue reading in the first cᴑmment)

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