Ryan Cross sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed, scowling at his mother, Julia. His phone lay face down next to him, vibrating occasionally with messages from his friends. But he ignored them. This was more important.
“I don’t see why I should have to clean my room, take out the trash, or mow the lawn for free,” Ryan declared. “Labor should be compensated.”
Julia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Ryan, those are your responsibilities as part of this family. You live here, you eat here, you sleep under this roof. The least you can do is contribute.”
Ryan scoffed. “Dad gets paid for his work. You get paid for yours. Why shouldn’t I?”
His father, Mark, who had been quietly flipping through the newspaper, lowered it and gave his son a measured look. “Because you’re not an employee, Ryan. You’re our son. Helping around the house isn’t a job; it’s called pulling your weight.”
“That’s unfair!” Ryan slammed his fist on the table. “If you want me to do chores, I want an allowance! Fifty dollars a week!”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Fifty dollars? Are you serious?”
Mark chuckled. “You think mowing the lawn and taking out the trash is worth fifty bucks a week?”
“You’d have to pay a professional way more than that!” Ryan shot back, his face turning red with frustration.
Julia and Mark exchanged glances. Then Mark set his newspaper down, an idea forming in his mind. “Alright, Ryan. You want to be paid? Fine. We’ll treat this like a real job.”
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Mark said. “But jobs have responsibilities and expectations. First, we’ll deduct rent for your room. Let’s say, oh, $150 a month. Then there’s food—groceries aren’t free, so we’ll charge you $50 a week for that. And electricity, water, internet… I’d say that’s another $50.”
Ryan’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what?”
“That’s how it works in the real world, kid,” Mark said with a smirk. “You work, but you also have to pay for necessities. So after expenses, you’ll actually owe us money.”
Ryan looked back and forth between his parents, his confidence crumbling. “That’s not fair!”
“Neither is demanding to be paid for basic responsibilities,” Julia said. “But I’ll tell you what—if you really want this arrangement, we’ll give you a formal contract. What do you say?”
Ryan slumped back in his chair. His phone buzzed again, but he didn’t pick it up. His grand plan had completely backfired.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll just do my chores.”
Julia smiled. “Good choice. Now, since we’re talking about responsibilities, why don’t you start by taking out the trash?”
Ryan groaned, dragging himself to his feet. As he stomped outside, Mark picked up his newspaper again, chuckling under his breath. “Kids these days…”
