Calling Out And Taking Out The Trash

, , , | Working | August 4, 2020

I live at the top of a hill with houses on either side. It’s not very steep and rounds out across my large yard, but it is a noticeable incline.

One day, after the trash is collected, I notice that the can has been moved from one side of my property to the far side of my neighbor’s yard. Our trash cans are labeled with the house number, so I don’t think someone thought it belonged to them. I push my can back to where it was before, but the same thing happens the next week, this time going to the far side of my other neighbor’s yard. I move it back again, wondering if somebody is playing some bizarre prank on me.

The third week, I am home when trash is collected. I see a young man with a distinctive tattoo on his arm and another on his neck hop out of the truck idling in front of my neighbor’s house, pull my can to the truck, empty both cans, and get back in. The truck then drives by my house and stops at my other neighbor’s house to collect. I try to flag him down, but he either doesn’t see me or he doesn’t care.

I decide to call the sanitation department to see what is going on.

Receptionist: “Sanitation.”

There is silence… and then I realize that was the entire greeting.

Me: “Oh! Hi, um, someone keeps moving my trash can off of my property and—”

Receptionist: *Sigh* “You have to put your trash can beside your mailbox before collection. Otherwise, they won’t pick it up.”

Me: “Yes, I know. That’s what I’ve been doing, but one of the guys collecting is putting it in my neighbor’s yards.”

Receptionist: “Who is it?”

Me: “I didn’t see a name tag.”

I describe the man.

Receptionist: “Doesn’t sound familiar. Is it beside your mailbox?”

Me: “It is now.”

Receptionist: “Then they’ll pick it up.”

Me: “I’m asking why my can was moved off of my property.”

Receptionist: *Another sigh* “I don’t know.”

Me: “Then who does? Because it’s kind of annoying to have to haul it back to where it’s supposed to be.”

Receptionist: “I don’t know. Ask the team next time. Have a nice day.” *Hangs up*

So, I wait until the next trash collection day. When the truck comes down the road, I step outside to watch. The same man jumps down from the truck and begins dumping cans. When he gets to my neighbor’s house, I walk out and stand beside my trash can. He starts walking toward me, looks up, and pauses before turning around to get back in the truck. I wait for him to pull up to my house before saying anything. He gets out, looks me over, and pulls the can toward the truck.

Me: “Hi. Could you—”

He spits in my direction.

Man: “Yeah?”

Me: “Could you tell me why my trash can keeps ending up in my neighbor’s yards?”

Man: “It’s not.”

He puts the can back where it was.

Man: “See?”

I give a short, annoyed laugh.

Me: “I saw you move it over there last week.”

Man: “And?”

Me: “Please don’t do it anymore.”

Man: *Sarcastic tone* “Okay, then.”

Me: *Overly cheerful* “Great! Thank you!”

The next week, my can was left where it was supposed to be. I could understand if I lived at the end of a road or if there was some rule about it, but I don’t and there isn’t. I still have no idea why it kept getting moved but I’m glad it stopped.

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