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

My name is Anna. I’m 36 years old, a full-time logistics professional, and a single mom to three amazing kids: Liam (11), Maya (7), and Atlas (4). For the past five years, we lived in a modest two-bedroom rental. The kids shared one room, and I slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. It wasn’t ideal, but it was safe, clean, and just 15 minutes from their school and my job.

Frank, our landlord, was the kind of man who ignored repair requests, took days to reply to messages, and once said to me:
“With all those kids, you should be grateful you have a place at all.”

Still, I stayed. Even when the rent crept up, I paid it on time every month. Starting over would be expensive, and no other place in that area felt safe.

Then, I got a promotion.

After years of dedication, I became the Operations Manager at my company. It wasn’t a flashy salary boost, but it was enough to finally say yes to little things for my kids — school field trips, decent shoes, cereal that wasn’t the cheapest brand. I was proud.

I posted a short update on LinkedIn:
“After years of balancing motherhood and work, I’m proud to say I’ve been promoted to Operations Manager. Hard work pays off!”

Two days later, I got an email from Frank with the subject line:
“Rental Adjustment Notice.”

He was raising my rent by $500. No upgrades, no improvements. Just this message:
“Saw your little promotion post — congrats! Figured now’s the perfect time to squeeze a bit more out of you.”

I called him, my hands shaking.

“Frank, this is a massive increase,” I said calmly. “I’ve never missed a payment. We have a lease…”

He laughed and cut me off.
“You wanted a career and a bunch of kids? That comes with bills. You’re not broke anymore, so don’t expect charity. This is business, not a daycare.”

I hung up.

I stood there in silence until Liam walked in, barefoot and gentle.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Just tired,” I replied.
“We’ll be okay. You always figure it out,” he said softly.

That night, I decided I was done playing nice.

I posted in every local parenting and housing group:
“Looking for a family-friendly rental? Avoid [Frank’s address]. Landlord raised my rent by $500 after I got a promotion. Punishing working moms for succeeding? Not today.”

I didn’t even mention his name — I didn’t have to.

The post went viral. Comments poured in.

Other moms shared horror stories. One said Frank made her pay six months in advance because “women are flaky.” Another showed screenshots of him refusing to fix mold, calling it “just cosmetic.”

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

I waited until the kids were asleep. Then I replied:
“Thanks, Frank. But I already signed a lease elsewhere. Just make sure you list the place as ‘pet-free.’ The rats under the sink might not get along with a tenant’s cat.”

He didn’t respond. I assumed he got the message.

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

Our new landlord, Mrs. Calder, welcomed us with muffins and a handwritten card. She remembered all the kids’ names the next week. When I got teary-eyed, she politely pretended not to notice.

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

Sometimes I still get messages like:
“I saw your post — thank you. I needed the push to leave.”
“He tried the same thing with me. Not this time!”

And that’s the thing about respect — it costs nothing.

A few weeks after moving in, I invited Mrs. Calder over for dinner. She brought a peach cobbler and sunflowers.

As the kids ran around and laughter filled the house, she said:
“I haven’t had dinner like this in years. This is already my favorite meal.”

And right then, I realized something important:

We were finally home.