MY PARENTS MOVED MY BROTHER INTO MY HOUSE WHILE I WAS ON VACATION — A WEEK LATER, HE WAS BEGGING TO LEAVE.
My older brother, Ted (42M), has been a burden for years. He refuses to work, freeloads off my parents, drinks all day, and takes zero responsibility.
He also has two kids with two different women, neither of whom he supports.
Despite this, my parents coddle him, treating him like he can do no wrong. Meanwhile, I pursued a career in biology, which they saw as a dead-end.
They ignored me for years until I became successful through AI research and bought my dream house last month. Suddenly, they were all over me, insisting I let Ted move in because it was my “turn” to take care of him.
I politely refused.
But when my wife and I returned from vacation two weeks ago, I found Ted living in my house, his stuff everywhere—beer cans, dirty clothes, old furniture. He was lounging on my couch like he owned the place.
Me: “Ted… what is all this?!”
Him: “I moved in, parents helped with stuff. We just skipped your YES-part. So quit being such a jerk.”
So, I AM a jerk. Okay. I smiled broadly, creating a plan in my head, and in a week, he pleaded with
I smiled broadly, creating a plan in my head, and in a week, he pleaded with me to let him leave.
Here’s how it all went down.
The “Welcome Home” Plan
If he wanted to live in my house, he would live by my rules. And as a biologist, I knew just how to make things… uncomfortable.
Step 1: Cleanliness is Next to Godliness
I announced strict house rules: no messes, no alcohol, and no freeloading. “You live here, you contribute. That means cleaning, cooking, and paying rent.”
His jaw dropped. “Rent? But… but I’m family!”
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. “Family pays too. It’s not charity. You’re getting a discount anyway.” I handed him an invoice with a detailed breakdown—water, electricity, groceries, and even ‘Emotional Labor Fee’ for dealing with his nonsense. The grand total was enough to make his eyes bulge.
“You expect me to pay this?” he sputtered, pointing at the paper as if it were on fire.
I smiled. “Or get out. Your choice.”
Step 2: Work or Starve
I stopped buying his favorite junk food and beer. Instead, I stocked the fridge with healthy options—fruits, vegetables, and tofu. I even labeled them with little notes:
- “Broccoli – Great for motivation!”
- “Tofu – Builds character!”
He stared at the fridge in horror. “Where’s the pizza? And beer?”
I shrugged, my expression innocent. “Not in the budget. But if you get a job, you can buy whatever you want.”
Step 3: Early to Bed, Early to Rise
I set an alarm for 6:00 AM every day, blasting the most obnoxious motivational podcast I could find. It echoed through the house like a drill sergeant’s shout: “GET UP AND SEIZE THE DAY! SUCCESS DOESN’T SLEEP!”
The first morning, Ted stumbled out of his room, his hair a mess, eyes bloodshot. “Dude, what the hell?”
I smiled, already dressed and sipping coffee. “Rise and shine! Job applications start at 7:00. Let’s get you employed!”
His face fell. “I… I don’t have a resume.”
“Good thing I’m great with AI,” I chirped. “I made one for you. All you need to do is apply. Oh, and I signed you up for a job readiness course online. It starts in fifteen minutes.”
Breaking Point
The days that followed were brutal—for him. Ted was up at dawn, eating food he hated, and forced to clean up after himself. He even tried to sneak beer in, but I installed a camera by the fridge. I made him mop the floor while listening to an audiobook called “Why Losers Fail.”
I became the strictest landlord and the most obnoxious life coach he’d ever met. “Come on, Ted! Let’s do a mock interview! Again! More enthusiasm!”
I watched him crack, day by day. His laziness was no match for my relentless optimism and military-grade discipline.
One evening, I heard him on the phone with my parents, whining. “I can’t do this, Mom! He’s crazy! He’s got alarms and chores and motivational crap all over the place!”
My mom must have defended me because he groaned, “No, he’s not helping! He’s TORTURING me!”
I stifled a laugh, continuing to vacuum just outside his door, extra loudly.
The Plea for Freedom
A week later, Ted knocked on my bedroom door, his face pale and his shoulders sagging. “Please… let me move out. I can’t take this anymore.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “But you were so excited to move in. What changed?”
He looked like he was about to cry. “I miss Mom and Dad. And… and my friends. And junk food! And sleeping in!”
I gave him a long, hard look. “You moved in without my permission. You disrespected my home. You thought you could take advantage of me. But you learned something, didn’t you?”
His face crumpled, tears welling up. “I did! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again. Just please… please let me leave!”
I pretended to consider it, drawing out the tension. Then I sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you pack up everything tonight. And don’t leave a mess, or I’ll send you a cleaning bill.”
His face lit up with relief. “I will! I swear!”
The Grand Exit
Ted moved out that night, dragging his bags to his car, muttering under his breath about “waking up at six” and “vegan food from hell.”
The house was spotless. I checked every corner, every closet. Not a beer can or dirty sock in sight.
The next day, I called my parents, fully expecting a lecture. But to my surprise, my mom sighed, “He showed up at our door in tears. Said you were ‘inhuman’ and ‘impossible to live with.’”
I grinned. “He’s back with you then?”
“Yes,” she admitted, her voice tired. “But… he said something else. He said you were the hardest person he’s ever lived with… but also the most responsible. He said you taught him how to clean, cook, and budget. He’s actually… helping out around here.”
I blinked, stunned. “Seriously?”
“Yes. He even apologized for moving in without asking. He’s… changing, Garry. You might have done something we couldn’t.”
I sat down, the realization hitting me. I thought I was just getting rid of him, but I ended up teaching him discipline, responsibility, and respect.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, tell him he’s not welcome back unless he pays rent.”
My mom chuckled. “You really are his toughest teacher.”
I hung up, feeling a sense of satisfaction. I had my house back, my peace restored, and I even managed to teach Ted a lesson he desperately needed.
And from then on, I made sure to never leave my keys with my parents again.
