The Lawn Mower Mix-Up: A Lesson in Entitlement

At 25, I thought I had life pretty much figured out. I had a steady job, a decent apartment, and the confidence of someone who knew everything there was to know about the world. One fateful Saturday, however, shattered my delusions and taught me a valuable lesson about entitlement.

It all started with my neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, a sweet but incredibly forgetful elderly lady. She had a knack for borrowing things and never returning them. Over the past few months, she’d “borrowed” my lawn mower, garden hose, and even my prized collection of gnomes. The gnomes, I could forgive—she thought they were cute and liked to place them around her flowerbeds—but the lawn mower and garden hose were essential.

One morning, fed up with her perpetual borrowing, I decided to reclaim my property. After all, it was my stuff, and she should respect that, right? I marched over to her front door and knocked with the determination of a postal worker delivering a million-dollar check. Mrs. Jenkins answered with her usual smile, oblivious to my rising annoyance.

“Good morning, dear! What brings you here?” she chirped.

“Mrs. Jenkins,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “I need my lawn mower and garden hose back. You’ve had them for a while now.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, and then she looked genuinely puzzled. “Oh, did I borrow those? I’m so sorry, dear. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I’ll go get them for you.”

She shuffled off, leaving me feeling slightly guilty. Maybe I’d been too harsh. She returned a few minutes later with the hose, but no lawn mower.

“I’m afraid I can’t seem to find the lawn mower,” she said, looking genuinely distressed.

Great. My precious lawn mower had vanished into the Bermuda Triangle of Mrs. Jenkins’ garage. I thanked her for the hose and went back to my apartment, muttering about how people needed to respect other people’s property.

Later that day, still fuming, I decided to mow my lawn using my neighbor’s lawn mower instead. After all, turnabout is fair play, right? I dragged the machine across the street and started it up, feeling a sense of justice being served.

Halfway through mowing, I noticed a crowd of neighbors gathering. They were pointing and whispering. I ignored them, focusing on my task, until someone finally called out, “Hey! What are you doing with Mrs. Smith’s lawn mower?”

“Just borrowing it!” I yelled back, irritated. “She owes me anyway!”

There was a collective gasp. I looked up to see Mrs. Smith, not Mrs. Jenkins, standing there with a horrified expression. My stomach dropped. I’d grabbed the wrong neighbor’s lawn mower. Mrs. Smith was known for her meticulous yard and fierce protectiveness over her gardening tools.

Mrs. Smith marched over, red-faced. “You have some nerve! Return that immediately!”

Apologizing profusely, I hurriedly pushed the mower back to her yard, feeling like a complete fool. The crowd dispersed, some shaking their heads, others laughing at my expense.

The lesson hit me like a ton of bricks: I had been so wrapped up in my sense of entitlement that I hadn’t even bothered to ensure I was borrowing from the right person. My rash actions had led to public humiliation and strained neighborly relations.

From that day forward, I learned to be more mindful and considerate. Entitlement can cloud judgment, leading to embarrassing consequences. Now, whenever I see Mrs. Jenkins, I chuckle and remind myself that borrowing—or reclaiming—requires more than just a sense of justice. It requires humility and a good dose of double-checking.