Скачать или смотреть Have you ever had to put a spoiled brat in their place? 🤔

My neighbor's 16-year-old son, Bryce, thought our entire street was his personal playground. His parents had bought him a brand new BMW for his birthday, and he'd been terrorizing the neighborhood ever since.
Every morning at 6 AM, he'd rev his engine outside my window, music blasting, waking up my newborn daughter. When I politely asked him to keep it down, he laughed and said, "Maybe you should move if you can't handle real car sounds."
But the final straw came last Tuesday. I was loading groceries when Bryce came speeding down our narrow street. My elderly neighbor, Mrs. Chen, was walking her tiny dog when Bryce swerved directly at her, honking his horn. She stumbled and fell hard on the pavement.
"Watch where you're walking, grandma!" he yelled out his window, laughing as he drove off.
I helped Mrs. Chen up. She had scraped knees and was shaking. "He does this every day," she whispered. "I'm too scared to take walks anymore."
That's when I decided enough was enough.
See, what Bryce didn't know was that I work for the DMV. And what his parents didn't know was that their precious son had been getting tickets all over the county that he'd been hiding from them.
I pulled up his driving record. Twelve speeding tickets in six months. Three reckless driving charges. Two incidents of aggressive driving. He was one violation away from losing his license entirely.
But I needed something more immediate.
I called my friend Jake, who works in parking enforcement. "Remember that favor you owe me?" I said. "Time to collect."
We spent the weekend documenting everything. Bryce parking in handicapped spots at the mall. Blocking fire hydrants. Double-parking in front of restaurants because he was "just running in real quick."
Monday morning, Jake was waiting.
Bryce pulled his usual 6 AM stunt, revving outside my window. But this time, Jake was there with his citation book. "Excessive noise violation in a residential zone," he announced, writing the ticket. "$300."
"You can't ticket me in front of my own house!" Bryce screamed.
"Actually, I can," Jake replied calmly. "Noise ordinances apply everywhere."
Tuesday: Bryce parked illegally at Starbucks. Jake was there. $150 ticket.
Wednesday: Double-parked at his girlfriend's house. Jake appeared like magic. $200 ticket.
By Friday, Bryce had racked up over $1,000 in fines. His parents finally found out when the notices arrived in the mail.
But I wasn't done.
Saturday morning, I was watering my garden when Bryce came tearing around the corner, clearly furious about his tickets. He was speeding, music blasting, when he spotted Jake's patrol car.
Bryce slammed on his brakes so hard he skidded sideways and crashed straight into his own mailbox, taking out half of his parents' prized rose garden in the process.
Jake calmly walked over and handed him another ticket. "Reckless driving. That's an automatic license suspension."
The look on Bryce's face was priceless.
His parents came running out to find their son's BMW wrapped around their destroyed mailbox, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Jake explaining that their son would be walking everywhere for the next six months.
"But I need my car for school!" Bryce whined.
"Should have thought about that before terrorizing the neighborhood," his father said coldly.
The best part? Bryce's mom made him personally apologize to every neighbor he'd harassed, starting with Mrs. Chen. I watched from my window as this kid who'd been acting like a king had to humble himself door-to-door.
Mrs. Chen invited him in for tea and spent two hours telling him stories about respect and community. He came out looking genuinely ashamed.
Six months later, Bryce walks to school every day. He waves politely when he sees me. Last week, he even helped Mrs. Chen carry her groceries.
Turns out all it took was some real consequences to turn that spoiled brat into a decent human being.
Sometimes the best lessons come with a price tag attached.