Jack was the eldest son in the family, yet the most irresponsible and lazy. On the day his younger brother turned eighteen and moved into a rented apartment, Jack begged his mother to install an air conditioner in his childhood bedroom, where he had lived all thirty-four years of his life.
— Son, when are you going to get a job? — his retired mother asked, her voice devoid of any hope.
— I’m looking for the right position, — Jack’s answers were always the same.
Either the schedule didn’t suit him, or the organization’s prestige wasn’t up to par, or the position itself, or the salary.
His father had long given up trying to have a serious man-to-man talk with Jack or push the long-overdue fledgling out of the nest. Women were another problem altogether — the guy had grown into a completely spineless, infantile, and unsociable creature. Who’d want someone like that?
All of Jack’s friends had long since married, and some even had kids in high school. Meanwhile, Jack spent his days holed up at home, playing video games or binge-watching TV shows.
One day, a friend of his mother’s came over and, spotting Jack, asked why a strange, paunchy, bearded slob in nothing but sweatpants was wandering around the house.
— Has this man taken you hostage? — the friend asked when Jack rummaged through the fridge and carried off an entire pot of pasta to his lair.
— Something like that, — the woman sighed heavily and shared the story of her wayward son with her friend.
— You should rent out his room to that leech, and be done with it.
— Rent it out? How? — Jack’s mother was intrigued by the unusual suggestion.
— When he’s not home, install two locks. Give him one key, keep two for yourself, and set a rental fee. And, of course, stop giving him any money.
— But how will he pay?
— That, my dear, is his problem.
— But…
— No buts! Either do this, or put up with him until you’re in your grave.
The friend left, and the mother shared the idea with her husband. They decided to give it a try. They also put a lock on the fridge for good measure.
That evening, Jack came home with a bag full of beer and snacks, ready to binge-watch shows all night, only to find — a lock.
— Mom, someone stole my room! — the slob complained.
— That room is now for rent. Want to live there? Pay the rent. No money? You can sleep in the hallway for free.
Jack went through all three stages: denial, anger, acceptance. No matter how much he whined or pleaded, his mother didn’t budge, though her heart was breaking.
He slept on a makeshift bed of stools. The night was rough and sleepless. By morning, his stash of snacks was gone, and he trudged to the kitchen. Finding yet another lock, he let out a wail.
He had to go to his friends’ places for breakfast.
A week passed. Jack slept on chairs that left him aching, while his parents kept disturbing his sleep, shuffling to the bathroom or kitchen.
Gradually, his friends stopped letting him in, making excuses or simply ignoring him.
Jack tried to get a credit card, but banks rejected the unemployed. So, he signed up at the job center and gained access to the fridge — though only to two shelves. A month later, Jack disappeared. His mother called the police, but they said a missing person report required a full day, not eight hours.
That evening, Jack showed up. His mother barely recognized him. Neatly groomed, shaved, smelling of his father’s cologne.
— I got a job, — he said timidly.
His mother couldn’t believe her ears but didn’t ease up. Jack moved back into his room only after his first paycheck. He enjoyed living on his own so much that, two months later, he moved out completely. Six months after that, he got married and took out a mortgage. Jack raised his kids with the lesson that nothing in life comes without effort. And whenever they started to whine, he told them a scary tale about a lazy “boy” whose parents made him live in the hallway while renting out his room.
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