I Worked for My In-Laws for Free for 5 Years—The Weekend I Stopped, Everything Fell Apart

The real breaking point came two weeks ago on an ordinary Saturday morning. I had just finished changing the oil in Jim’s pickup truck—a beat-up old Chevy that leaked like a sieve and should have been retired years ago. I was crouched by the front wheel, wiping the grease and oil off my hands with an old rag, when Jim came out onto the porch.

Claire and Carol were there too, sitting in the wicker chairs, drinking iced tea and chatting about something. Jim looked down at me from the porch, and our eyes met. He had this expression on his face, something between amusement and disdain.

“You know, Nate,” he said, his voice carrying that casual authority he always used, “if you left tomorrow, we’d just pay someone better to do this stuff. Probably get it done faster too.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. I waited for Claire to say something, to defend me, to acknowledge how insulting that was.