My Landlord Raised My Rent Because I Got a Promotion — Big Mistake Messing With a Single Working Mom of Three

When Anna, a single mom of three, finally gets promoted, her sleazy landlord hikes the rent… just because he can. But he’s about to learn the hard way that underestimating a tired woman with nothing left to lose is the biggest mistake of all. This time, Anna’s done playing nice.

I’m not usually a petty person. I don’t have the time. Between raising three kids and juggling a full-time job, petty has never fit into my calendar. But when someone comes for my peace, my babies and the roof over our heads… just because I caught a break?

Well. I don’t go down swinging. I go down strategizing.

A tired woman | Source: Midjourney

A tired woman | Source: Midjourney

Let me back it up for you.

I’m Anna. I’m 36 and a single mom of three. My kids are my world, Liam’s eleven and he’s the kind of boy who holds doors without being asked and notices when I’ve had a hard day without saying a word.

Maya’s seven, loud and bold and always asking the questions no one else will. And then there’s Atlas, my four-year-old. He’s a walking tornado in Lightning McQueen socks, with curls that spring back no matter how often I try to tame them.

A smiling little boy | Source: Midjourney

A smiling little boy | Source: Midjourney

Our mornings start before the sun even considers rising. I’m up by five, packing lunches, tying laces, brushing tangles and reheating coffee I’ll never get to finish. I work full-time as a team lead at a logistics company, though recently, I earned the title of Operations Manager.

After eight years of staying late, skipping lunch breaks and never taking sick days, someone finally saw me. The raise wasn’t huge but it meant that maybe, just maybe, I could start saying yes when my kids asked for something simple.

New shoes without holes. A school trip without borrowing from next month’s grocery fund. Name-brand cereal.

An aisle in a supermarket | Source: Midjourney

An aisle in a supermarket | Source: Midjourney

We’d been living in a modest two-bedroom rental for five years. We moved in just before Atlas was born. Just before their father, Ed, left the scene. The kids shared a room with bunk beds that creaked every time someone rolled over. I slept on the pull-out couch, my back a roadmap of tension and long days.

But it was ours.

Safe, clean, just 15 minutes from school and work. It wasn’t much but it was home.

A pull-out couch in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A pull-out couch in a living room | Source: Midjourney

Frank, our landlord, was the kind of man who liked owning things, especially people’s silence. He ignored texts, delayed repairs and once told me, “With all those kids, you should be grateful you’ve got a place at all.”

I swallowed my pride and paid the rent. Because stability is priceless… until someone tries to sell it back to you at a markup.

Frank had this charming habit of treating me like a squatter who’d somehow lucked into a lease. He didn’t see a tenant, he saw a woman one missed payment away from being disposable.

An old man wearing a navy t-shirt | Source: Midjourney

An old man wearing a navy t-shirt | Source: Midjourney

Maintenance requests were met with silence, followed by slow, begrudging replies. The broken heater in December?

I texted him three times before he finally responded with, “Layer up, Anna. You and the kids. It’s not that cold.”

When the kitchen faucet exploded like a rusted geyser, soaking my shoes and nearly electrocuting the toaster, his response was just as bad.

A running tap | Source: Midjourney

A running tap | Source: Midjourney

“I can swing by next Thursday if it’s really urgent.”

But it was never urgent to him. Not the ants, the mold, or the fact that my front door lock jammed every single time it rained. He made me feel like asking for basic safety was asking for too much.

The worst part though?

It was the way he looked at me when we ran into each other, like a struggling single mom was a cautionary tale, not a human being. He once smirked.

A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

“You should be grateful you’ve got a place at all with all those kids.”

It was like my children were baggage. Like our home was a favor.

Still, I kept paying. On time, every month. Because starting over was expensive and even when the rent crept higher, it was still less than anywhere else that felt safe.

A pensive woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney

A pensive woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney

Then came the promotion.

It wasn’t fanfare and confetti but it was mine. A quiet win, hard-earned. I updated my LinkedIn.

“After years of juggling work and motherhood, I’m proud to say I’ve been promoted to Operations Manager. Hard work pays off!”

I didn’t expect applause. But I got kind messages from coworkers, old classmates, even one mom from daycare I barely knew.

An open laptop on a table | Source: Midjourney

An open laptop on a table | Source: Midjourney

“You make the impossible look easy,” she’d said.

I read that one three times.

I cried in the breakroom. It was just a few tears. Quiet ones. It felt like someone finally saw me, not just the tired eyes and the late arrivals.

Me.

Two days later, I got an email from Frank.

An emotional woman in a breakroom at work | Source: Midjourney

An emotional woman in a breakroom at work | Source: Midjourney

Subject: Rental Adjustment Notice

He was raising my rent by $500. No upgrades. No justification.

“Saw your little promotion post. Congrats! Figured that now’s the perfect time to squeeze a bit more out of you.”

I stared at the screen, blinking like the words might rearrange themselves into something less vile. Surely, this wasn’t real. It had to be a mistake. Some glitch. Maybe he’d sent it to the wrong tenant.

A woman sitting with her laptop | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting with her laptop | Source: Midjourney

I called him immediately, my hand trembling as I held the phone to my ear.

“Frank, that’s a massive increase,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve never missed rent. We have a lease…”

“Look,” he cut me off with a chuckle. “You wanted a career and a bunch of kids, that comes with bills. You’re not broke anymore, so don’t expect charity. If someone’s making more, they can pay more. It’s simple math, Anna. This is business, honey, not a daycare.”

A man talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney

A man talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney

I sat there, stunned, my mouth dry. My hand dropped into my lap, still clutching the phone. I could hear the kids laughing from the living room. Their laughter was so normal, so innocent, and it made the bile rise in my throat.

I hung up without another word.

That night, after bedtime routines were done and three small bodies were tucked into sheets that didn’t match, I found myself in the laundry room, holding a pile of mismatched socks like it was going to ground me.

Socks in a laundry basket | Source: Midjourney

Socks in a laundry basket | Source: Midjourney

I stood there for a long time.

There’s a specific kind of cry you have to hold in so your kids don’t hear it. The kind that sits in your chest, burning and shaking. That’s the one I swallowed.

Liam found me there. Barefoot, silent, gentle.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Just tired,” I tried to smile.

A little boy standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney

A little boy standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney

He nodded, settling beside me, back against the dryer.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, eyes on the floor. “You always figure it out.”

And somehow, hearing that from him broke me more than Frank ever could. And that’s when I made a decision.

I wasn’t going to beg. I wasn’t going to plead with Frank or scrape together money I didn’t have or sacrifice groceries for rent. I was done playing nice for people who saw kindness as weakness.

A woman leaning against a wall | Source: Midjourney

A woman leaning against a wall | Source: Midjourney

I was going to teach him something.

That week, I handed in my 30-day notice. No drama. Just a signed letter, slid into his mailbox like a resignation from his nonsense.

That same night, I opened my phone and posted in every local parenting and housing group I belonged to. Nothing flashy. Just the truth.

A red mailbox | Source: Midjourney

A red mailbox | Source: Midjourney

“Looking for a family-friendly rental? Avoid 116 Muscut Avenue. Landlord just raised rent by $500 because I got a promotion. Punishing working moms for succeeding? Not today, ladies and gents.”

I didn’t name him. I didn’t need to.

The post exploded overnight.

Moms started commenting with their own horror stories. One said Frank made her pay six months in advance because “women are flakey.” Another shared screenshots where he refused to fix mold because “it’s just a cosmetic issue, Jane.”

A phone on a table | Source: Midjourney

A phone on a table | Source: Midjourney

There were eye rolls. Rage reacts. One woman called him “a sleazy slumlord in a polo shirt.” Another said he once told her she should “marry rich if she wanted better maintenance.”

Then came Jodie. She was a mom I barely knew from PTA circles. She messaged me privately.

“Anna, this man tried to rent me that same unit and asked if my husband would co-sign. And do you want to know why? Just in case I got pregnant and couldn’t work.”

Jodie had receipts. And she posted them.

A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney

Two days later, the post got picked up by a real estate watchdog page for our county. Someone even made a TikTok with dramatic piano music and transitions, zooming in on side-by-side photos of his crusty listing and my original post.

It was glorious.

And then, what do you know? Old Frank texted me.

“Hey, Anna. I’ve been thinking. Maybe the increase was too much too fast. Let’s keep the rent the same, yeah?”

A man texting on his phone | Source: Midjourney

A man texting on his phone | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t reply right away.

Instead, I picked up Maya from dance, still sweaty and glitter-speckled. I got Atlas from preschool, where he’d taped three pieces of construction paper together and called it a “rocket dog.”

I sat next to Liam while he worked through long division, his brows furrowed in concentration, his pencil chewed beyond saving.

A close up of a little girl | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a little girl | Source: Midjourney

I kissed all three of their heads like I always did, Maya’s quick, Atlas’s sticky, and Liam’s slightly embarrassed but tolerant. I made grilled cheese with the last slices of bread and pretended not to notice we were out of milk again.

I read “The Gruffalo” twice because Atlas asked.

“Do the monster voice again!” he whispered excitedly. I did it, even though my throat burned.

Grilled cheese sandwiches on a board | Source: Midjourney

Grilled cheese sandwiches on a board | Source: Midjourney

Only after they were tucked in, only after I sat on the edge of my pull-out couch and stared at the chipped paint on the wall, did I finally reply.

“Thanks, Frank. But I’ve already signed a lease somewhere else. Just make sure to list the place as ‘pet-free’ though. The rats under the sink might not get along with the new tenant’s cat.”

He didn’t bother to respond. And I assumed that he had accepted my final notice.

We moved out at the end of the month. I didn’t cry when I closed the door. I didn’t look back.

A woman standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

A friend from one of the housing groups connected me to her cousin’s landlord. That’s how we found our new place. It’s a bit smaller, sure, but it has three real bedrooms.

No more bunk beds that creak, no more sleeping on coils and springs. There’s a patch of grass in the back, uneven, a little wild.

Atlas calls it his farm. Maya braided dandelions into a crown on our first weekend there. Liam’s already claimed the room with the best light and has started drawing again.

A dandelion crown on grass | Source: Midjourney

A dandelion crown on grass | Source: Midjourney

And our new landlord, Mrs. Calder?

She brought over a welcome basket with mini muffins and a handwritten card. She remembered all their names the next week. When I teared up, she pretended not to notice.

That night, after the chaos of moving boxes and tangled chargers and someone losing their only left shoe, we lay on the living room floor, all four of us. I stared at the ceiling and let myself exhale for the first time in months.

A basket of mini-muffins | Source: Midjourney

A basket of mini-muffins | Source: Midjourney

“Is this our forever home?” Atlas curled against me and whispered.

“It’s our better home,” I said. “Maybe our forever home… let’s see, okay?”

A week later, Frank’s listing popped up online. The rent was slashed by $300. Still no takers.

Sometimes, I still get DMs.

“I saw your post, thank you. I needed a push to get out.”

“He tried the same thing with me. Not this time!”

A little boy laying on a carpet | Source: Midjourney

A little boy laying on a carpet | Source: Midjourney

It turns out, in a world where rent rises faster than hope, word of mouth is currency.

And respect? That costs nothing.

So if you think single moms are easy targets, if you think we’re too tired to fight back, too busy to speak up, just know…

We carry diaper bags and receipts. And we remember everything.

A smiling woman wearing a green sweater | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman wearing a green sweater | Source: Midjourney

A few weeks after the move, once the boxes were flattened and the air finally smelled like us instead of dust and cardboard, I invited Mrs. Calder over for dinner.

I didn’t have much but I made the kind of meal that says thank you when words don’t stretch far enough. Roast chicken with herbed potatoes and carrots and enough gravy to drown every bite in comfort.

Liam peeled the carrots while pretending he was on a cooking show. Maya sprinkled rosemary with dramatic flair. Atlas was in charge of buttering the rolls, which mostly meant licking his fingers and smearing butter on his cheek.

A roast chicken with vegetables | Source: Midjourney

A roast chicken with vegetables | Source: Midjourney

When Mrs. Calder arrived, she brought a peach cobbler and a bouquet of sunflowers. She wore a cardigan with cats on it and smiled like someone who meant it.

“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal with kids running around in years,” she said as she stepped inside. “This is already my favorite dinner.”

Dinner was full of laughter and seconds and gravy on everything. Liam explained how potatoes absorb flavor better when they’re slightly smashed. Maya insisted the chicken was juicier because she had whispered compliments to it while it roasted.

A peach cobbler | Source: Midjourney

A peach cobbler | Source: Midjourney

Atlas dropped his roll, cried, then cheered when it bounced off his chair and landed on the table again. At one point, I caught myself watching them instead of eating. My children. Safe. Loud. Full.

“You’ve made this house feel like a home, Anna,” Mrs. Calder said. “Not many people can do that in just a few weeks.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. So I just smiled. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like we weren’t just surviving.

We were rooting.

A smiling older woman in a cat cardigan | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older woman in a cat cardigan | Source: Midjourney

This actor went from $150 a month to running a farm with his famous wife

Can you guess the iconic actor who went from living in a rundown New York “flophouse” for just $150 a month to owning a peaceful farm with his family?

This actor’s humble beginnings are a far cry from his current life of farm animals and fresh home-grown veggies. Growing up, he knew from an early age that he wanted to be an actor.

After trips to the movie theater, he would come home and immediately dress up as one of the characters from the film, fully immersing himself in the world of make-believe. His favorite childhood toy? A box of old clothes his mom had saved for him, which he used to fuel his imagination and creativity.

Twitter

Wanted the ”real thing”

In 1976, fresh out of Philadelphia, he moved to New York City to chase his dream of acting. He spent months crashing on his sister’s couch before finding a cheap place through an ad in the Village Voice – a no-frills, budget-friendly “artist’s residence.”

Though the place was far from glamorous, it was exactly what he could afford at the time. In fact, the actor shared that it wasn’t even a single room – he had to move in with a roommate.

His roomie was a classical pianist, and the two shared the space for four years. In interviews, the actor fondly reminisces about the calming sounds of the piano that filled the apartment late at night.

While living in The Big Apple, the actor appeared in a production at the Circle in the Square Theater School. ”I wanted life, man, the real thing,” he later recalled to Nancy Mills of Cosmopolitan.

”The message I got was ‘The arts are it. Business is the devil’s work. Art and creative expression are next to godliness.’”

So, can you guess who this determined actor is?

He has a tall, lean frame and a signature look that’s a mix of rugged and charming.

With a square jaw and high cheekbones, he’s got a face that can go from intense to relatable in an instant. His light brown hair is often casually styled, and his deep-set eyes add a mysterious vibe. You might recognize his easy-going, yet timeless style that’s made him a fan favorite for decades. Can you guess who he is?

Alright, we won’t drag this out any longer.

While this Golden Globe Award winner was living in that tiny, $150-a-month space, he was also preparing for his big break.

Household name

Fast forward a few years, and he would go on to star in iconic films like FootlooseBeauty Shop, and The Woodsman, becoming a household name.

So here it is – it’s Kevin Bacon! From his early days as a young actor in New York to now living on a farm with his wife and their animals, his journey has truly been one to follow

Now, the actor is living a completely different life. He and his wife, fellow actress Kyra Sedgwick, now shares a 40-acre farm in Sharon, Connecticut. They have several animals, including goats, pigs, alpacas, and miniature horses.

”I love animals, they are a joy to be around, and they’re very, very calming for me,” Bacon said. ”But we also really love to go into the garden and get fresh herbs or tomatoes or basil or peppers or zucchini.”

And talk about how Bacon is living a completely different life today compared to his bachelor days in New York. He’s got more millions in the bank now – and doesn’t have to rely on his old roommate’s cooking skills anymore.

”He would cook,” Bacon said of his former roommate in New York.

”I didn’t know anything about cooking since I was used to going to the store and getting a sandwich or eating a slice of pizza.”

He added, ”And I watched my roommate, and he was a very frugal man so he was not going to go out and spend money to eat in a restaurant or even get something to go. He would make his own food and I got very inspired by that.”

Gradually, both Kevin and Kyra shares snippets of their daily lives on social media, with Sedgwick posting so many videos of her and their goats to TikTok that people now recognize her for it, rather than her acting roles.

“People were like, ’We love you singing with the goats.’ Kevin and I are like, ’Great, have you seen our movies or TV shows?’ But it makes people happy,” the actress and producer told People.

They even shared that his relationship with his animals has caused a shift in his eating habits — he no longer eats goat or pig products.

”It’s all about the animals,” Kevin says, adding that his wife won’t let him get any more animals, as he’d likely stop eating even more types of food. The couple also loves tending to their garden, growing fresh herbs, tomatoes, and peppers.

Interestingly, the Footloose star and Sedgwick aren’t the only celebs drawn to farm life. In fact, famed actress Jennifer Garner decided to buy back the farm her mother grew up on and transform it into an organic produce project for baby food.

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