Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a man of principle. That was the phrase, at least. George, a plumber, scoffed whenever he saw the McMansion next door. Built on a plot that once housed a perfectly good bungalow, it was a testament to excess. And the owner, Mr. Thompson, always seemed to be *avoiding* George.

The first clue had been the gold taps, gleaming even in the dim light of a partially-renovated bathroom. George, accustomed to brass, had nearly choked on his coffee. Then came the yacht, and the private jet. He had refused to even *look* when Mr. Thompson had invited him for a 'quick look' at the new indoor pool.

The thing was, Mr. Thompson *needed* his help. The mansion had plumbing issues constantly. Every leak, every blocked drain, only served to reinforce his conviction that the man was a fool. George even *smiled* as he pulled up outside to fix the master bedroom's shower.