Vera lifted the laptop lid and checked the time—ten in the morning. In half an hour, an online meeting with clients was supposed to start. Vera worked as a freelance graphic designer; her clients were scattered across different time zones, so her workday started early and ended late. But try explaining that to her mother-in-law.
Valentina Sergeyevna was already up and making a racket with pots and pans in the kitchen. At sixty-two she was still energetic and believed that everyone in the household should match her pace of life. Especially her daughter-in-law who, in her opinion, sat at the computer all day and did nothing useful.
“Back at that contraption again,” came a shout from the kitchen. “And there’s a mountain of housework to do.”
Vera turned on her camera, checked the sound, and opened the presentation file. The client from Novosibirsk was already waiting in the conference room. In six months of living together with Valentina Sergeyevna, Vera had learned to focus on work despite the constant background of disgruntled muttering.
“Good afternoon, Mikhail Petrovich,” Vera switched to her professional tone. “I’m ready to show three logo options for your company.”
While the presentation was going on, the sound of loud dishwashing came from the kitchen. Valentina Sergeyevna was deliberately banging plates and cutlery to show that she was doing real work, unlike some people.
“She just sits at home doing nothing,” the mother-in-law muttered as she dragged chairs around. “And I’m the only one cleaning this whole apartment.”
Vera tried not to react to the soundtrack. The client liked the second design option, asked for a few small edits, and scheduled the next meeting for the following day. The conference lasted forty minutes, and all that time Valentina Sergeyevna demonstratively busied herself with housework.
“So, you’ve spent the whole day sitting again,” the mother-in-law came into the room just as Vera was closing the program. “Could’ve at least helped with something around the house.”
“Valentina Sergeyevna, I was working. We were discussing the project with a client.”
“Working!” she snorted. “You were on the internet, that’s all. And who’s supposed to do the real work?”
Vera closed the laptop and went to the kitchen to make tea. Three months earlier, after her husband’s death, Valentina Sergeyevna had moved in with them. Officially it was to help her son and daughter-in-law with the household. In reality, it was to get free housing and food. The apartment had two rooms, so the mother-in-law got the living room, while Vera and her husband Denis squeezed into the bedroom.
Over tea, Valentina Sergeyevna continued her favorite theme—how hard it was for her alone to cope with the entire household. Vera listened silently and planned her workday. After lunch she had to refine the logo, in the evening—call a client from Yekaterinburg, and at night—submit a project to a client from Vladivostok.
“And who’s going to the store?” the mother-in-law asked. “We’re out of milk, the bread is stale.”
“I’ll go after work,” Vera finished her tea and got up from the table.
“After work! And when is that, exactly? You’re at home anyway!”
Vera went back to her laptop. The next two hours she spent making revisions, studying the technical brief for a new project, and replying to emails from potential clients. In the meantime, Valentina Sergeyevna went around “tidying up” the apartment, commenting on every single action.
“Look, dust on the shelves—and who’s cleaning it? Me! The floors are dirty—and who’s mopping them? Me again! And some people just sit on the internet and think they’re working.”
She repeated the same complaints every day. Valentina Sergeyevna didn’t understand that computer work was still work. She treated design as a hobby. To her, real work meant physical effort—cleaning, cooking, laundry. What Vera did was nonsense.
“Denis is out from morning till night, and you just sit here playing on your computer,” the mother-in-law went on.
Denis worked as an equipment repair technician at a service center. He left the house at eight and came back at seven in the evening. His salary was small, so Vera’s income was actually the main one in the family. But for Valentina Sergeyevna, it wasn’t the amount of money that mattered, it was the appearance of effort.
At three in the afternoon, Vera went to the store. She bought groceries for the whole family, including her mother-in-law’s favorite cottage-cheese desserts and cookies. She paid for everything with her own card, but Valentina Sergeyevna took this for granted.
“Finally decided to go out,” the woman greeted her in the hallway. “You were getting glued to that computer.”
Vera put the groceries away in the fridge. The shelves were full, fresh food everywhere, expensive fish and meat—all paid for with money she’d earned from design work. But Valentina Sergeyevna preferred not to notice that.
In the evening, when Denis got home from work, his mother complained:
“Your wife sat around all day again. Didn’t clean, didn’t cook properly. I’m carrying this entire apartment on my back alone.”
“Mama, Vera’s working,” Denis said wearily. “She has projects, clients.”
“What projects? She’s on the internet, that’s all. And I’m mopping floors, wiping dust, cleaning up after everyone.”
Vera listened from the bedroom, her fists clenched. Every day it was the same thing—accusations of laziness, criticism of her lifestyle, demands that she spend more time on housework. Meanwhile, all the expenses for food, utilities, and household supplies fell on her shoulders.
The next morning, the situation repeated itself. Valentina Sergeyevna got up at seven, started cleaning loudly, and complained about her lazy daughter-in-law. Vera opened her laptop at eight—she needed to finish the project for the Vladivostok client.
“Back at the computer again,” the mother-in-law grumbled. “How long can you sit on that internet?”
At nine, an online meeting with a new client began. A Moscow company was looking for a designer to create a corporate identity. It was a potential big contract, so Vera had prepared especially carefully.
“Hello, my name is Vera, I’m a graphic designer,” she began the presentation.
At that very moment, Valentina Sergeyevna walked through the room with the vacuum cleaner, deliberately switched it on right next to the desk, and started vacuuming the carpet. The noise was so loud that the client asked if it was bothering her.
“Sorry, it’ll be quieter in a moment,” Vera turned to her mother-in-law and gestured for her to wait.
Valentina Sergeyevna turned off the vacuum cleaner but stayed standing nearby, making it clear she wasn’t going to wait long.
“As I understand, you need a full corporate package—logo, business cards, letterheads?” Vera went on.
“That’s right. Our deadlines are tight, we need everything ready by the office opening.”
The mother-in-law switched on the vacuum cleaner again and started cleaning with redoubled enthusiasm. The client on the screen was visibly wincing at the noise.
“Maybe we should reschedule?” he suggested. “Sounds like you’ve got renovations going on.”
“No, it’s fine,” Vera said through clenched teeth. “Let’s discuss the project details.”
The meeting went on for another half hour. All the while, Valentina Sergeyevna either ran the vacuum, dragged furniture around, or banged things in the next room. The client did agree to work with her, but it was clear the noise had annoyed him.
When the conference ended, Vera closed her laptop and took a deep breath. This contract could bring in good money, but her mother-in-law’s behavior had ruined the professional impression.
“Valentina Sergeyevna, you could’ve waited half an hour,” Vera said.
“And why should I adjust to your little internet games?” the woman snapped. “The apartment won’t clean itself.”
“These aren’t games; this is my job. It’s thanks to this job there’s food on the table and the bills are paid.”
“Work is when you get up, go to an office, disappear for eight hours, and then come home. Not when you sit around at home doing nonsense.”
Vera felt her irritation boiling over. Months of patience and explanations had led nowhere. Valentina Sergeyevna still treated her design work as a trifle and saw herself as the only person in the house who really worked.
“Off you go and work then, if you’re going to talk back!” the mother-in-law shouted, forgetting that she was eating breakfast bought with Vera’s money.
Vera froze for a second. Slowly she closed the laptop lid and turned to face her.
“Work?” Vera got up and walked over to the fridge. “See all this food? Meat, fish, vegetables, fruit, the milk you’re drinking right now? All of it was bought with money earned at that computer.”
Valentina Sergeyevna stopped with her cup halfway to her mouth.
“If sitting at a computer isn’t work, then try filling the fridge yourself with your ‘real’ labor,” Vera continued.
The mother-in-law looked down and muttered:
“I just said…”
But her voice sounded unsure. For the first time in three months, she didn’t know how to respond.
Vera made a firm decision: from that day on, no one would call her lazy or say she was living off someone else. It was time to set things straight and show who was actually supporting this family.
The next day Vera got up at her usual time, turned on her laptop, and continued working on the Moscow project. At eight she had a video call with the client, and at ten—a call with a client from Samara. As always, Valentina Sergeyevna started her morning with cleaning and grumbling.
Around one in the afternoon, Vera went to the kitchen and made herself buckwheat with chicken. A small portion, just enough for one meal. She ate, washed her dishes, and went back to work.
At half past six, when they usually had dinner, Valentina Sergeyevna came into the kitchen. She lifted the lids off the pots—empty. Checked the oven—nothing. On the stove there was only a small frying pan with traces of a single cutlet.
“Vera!” she called. “Where’s dinner?”
“What dinner?” Vera didn’t look away from the monitor.
“The usual one. For the family.”
“And the family can’t cook for itself?”
The mother-in-law hesitated in the doorway.
“You mean, I’m supposed to cook myself?”
“Yes,” Vera replied calmly. “You’re the one who said I don’t work. That means you have plenty of time and energy to cook.”
“But I’ve been cleaning the apartment all day!”
“And I’ve been working with clients all day. I earned the money for the food that’s in the fridge.”
Valentina Sergeyevna opened and shut her mouth, but nothing came out. For the first time in three months, her daughter-in-law hadn’t rushed to make dinner for everyone.
At seven, Denis came home. As usual, he took off his shoes in the hallway and went into the kitchen, expecting to see the table set. Instead, he found his mother standing at the stove frying an egg.
“Mom, where’s dinner?” he asked.
“Ask your wife,” she grumbled.
Denis peeked into Vera’s room.
“Vera, is there anything to eat?”
“There is. The fridge is full of food. Cook whatever you want.”
“But you usually cook…”
“Usually I put up with daily lectures about how I don’t work and do nothing all day.”
Denis frowned.
“Did Mom say something again?”
“Your mother told me to go work. So that’s what I’m doing—working. At the computer, like I always have. Let the household chores be done by the one who thinks that’s the only real work.”
He tried to calm her down.
“Come on, she just doesn’t understand what you actually do…”
“Whether she understands or not, she insults me every day. And eats food bought with my money.”
Vera pulled a stack of receipts from her bag.
“Here—groceries from the store: twenty-three thousand. My money. Utilities—eight thousand. Also mine. The internet your mother calls a toy—one thousand rubles. And that’s a work tool, paid for with my income.”
Denis took the receipts and silently looked through them. Sure enough, all the big expenses were on Vera. His salary mostly went toward commuting, lunches at work, and small personal expenses.
“Let them take care of the family at least once,” Vera added. “I’ll just ‘sit at the computer,’ since it’s supposedly so easy.”
Valentina Sergeyevna heard the conversation from the kitchen. When her son came back, she tried to speak up again:
“Do you see what your wife is doing? She refuses to cook!”
“Mama,” Denis sat down at the table, exhausted, “who buys the groceries?”
“What does that have to do with anything? I’m talking about principles!”
“What principles? Vera works and earns more than I do. And you call that laziness.”
“Sitting at a computer isn’t work!”
“Then cook for yourself and buy your own food with your pension.”
The mother-in-law wanted to argue, but she could see that this time her son wasn’t going to take her side. She finished her egg in silence and went to her room.
The next day started quietly. Valentina Sergeyevna didn’t comment on Vera’s work at the computer, and Vera didn’t cook anything except breakfast for herself. In the morning Denis made some sandwiches and took them to work.
In the evening, the same pattern repeated. The mother-in-law boiled pasta and opened a can of something. Denis bought a rotisserie chicken from the store next door. Vera made herself rice with vegetables and ate alone.
“This can’t go on,” Denis told his wife before bed.
“Why not?” Vera asked in surprise. “Your mother got exactly what she wanted. Now she cooks for herself and doesn’t depend on my ‘sitting at the computer.’”
“But a family should…”
“A family should respect each other,” Vera interrupted. “Not insult each other at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
Within a week, the kitchen was completely divided. Everyone had their own shelves in the fridge, their own food, their own dishes. Vera bought groceries only for herself, cooked small portions, and cleaned up only after herself.
Valentina Sergeyevna was forced to learn simple recipes. She made porridge, instant soups, fried sausages with potatoes. Denis dragged home ready-made salads and semi-prepared meals from the store.
“Just look what it’s come to,” the mother-in-law muttered as she sliced bread. “A daughter-in-law who refuses to cook.”
“And why should she?” Denis asked. “She’s the one bringing in the money, and we’re the ones spending it.”
This time, Valentina Sergeyevna said nothing. Two weeks of running the household on her own had started to open her eyes. Buying groceries, planning meals, cooking every day—it turned out not to be as easy as she’d thought.
Most importantly, she no longer had the moral high ground to call Vera lazy. When you’re standing at the stove yourself, it’s harder to criticize someone else’s work.
“Listen, maybe we should ask Vera to at least cook dinner?” Denis suggested. “We can buy the groceries.”
“Do you think she’ll agree?” his mother asked doubtfully.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask her—politely.”
Valentina Sergeyevna fell silent, thinking. For three months she’d criticized her daughter-in-law, called her lazy, and demanded that she take on more housework. And in the end, she’d been left without help and support.
That evening she went to Vera.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course,” Vera tore herself away from her work.
“I wanted… to apologize. For what I said about your job. I didn’t realize it was serious.”
Vera looked at her closely.
“And what changed?”
“I tried doing everything myself. And I realized it’s hard. And then I saw the receipts—you really are supporting the whole family.”
“Valentina Sergeyevna, I’m not against helping with the cooking. But I won’t put up with my work being disrespected.”
“It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Then let’s make a deal,” Vera said. “I’ll cook dinner, you handle breakfast and lunch. We’ll buy groceries together and split the costs fifty-fifty.”
Her mother-in-law nodded.
“Deal.”
The next day, Valentina Sergeyevna kept her word. She didn’t comment on Vera’s video calls, didn’t criticize the hours spent at the computer, and didn’t demand that she start cleaning immediately. That evening, Vera cooked dinner for the whole family.
The atmosphere at the table was calm. Valentina Sergeyevna even complimented the cutlets and thanked her for the meal. Denis watched it all with relief—finally, peace had returned to the house.
“And tomorrow I’ve got an important presentation,” Vera said. “It might last two hours.”
“I’ll be quiet,” the mother-in-law promised. “I’ll vacuum after you finish work.”
Vera smiled. A month ago, it had seemed impossible that Valentina Sergeyevna would ever understand the modern world and remote work. But understanding had come through experience. Once you try supporting a family yourself, you begin to appreciate someone else’s labor.
Now there were new rules in the house. Everyone contributed what they could, no one belittled anybody’s work, and household responsibilities were divided fairly. Vera kept her composure and achieved the main thing—respect for her work. And no one ever again dared to call what she did “not a real job” or demand she give it up for housework
