My girlfriend and I have just moved into a new flat, where we have an allocated, clearly-marked parking space.

We’re some of the first people in the new building to move in, and it’s clear that the owner of a business across the street has been using our car park to avoid the on-street parking charges while the building wasn’t occupied. She parks her brand new, but bottom of the range, BMW in our space. We leave her notes asking her not to do it again, and eventually as our paths cross, I confront her about it.

“But that space is the biggest, and I don’t want my pride and joy being scratched by parking it on the street,” she protests.

I make it clear that it is my space; I have paid for it, and will get her car towed if she does it again. Of course, she does. I don’t have time to call the management company, as we’re off on holiday, but I park my car directly in front of hers, so there’s no way she can get out.

Two weeks later, we return, and both cars are still there. I have a succession of notes through my front door, ranging from nasty: “If you don’t move your car I’ll SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER!” to pleading: “I’m so sorry; please just let me get my car out and I’ll never do it again.”

We pop out to the shops in our car, and when we return, the woman’s car is gone. We get a lockable post to stop it happening again, and I mention the story to the barber in the shop next to hers, who happens to be our neighbour. “Oh, that was you?!” he says. “This cut’s free. She’s been doing this to everyone round here for ages. For the last two weeks, she’s had to get the bus home. She won’t stop complaining about how someone like her shouldn’t have to ride the bus.”

(My wife and I live in an apartment complex. Our greasy upstairs neighbor listens to his music and movies so loud we can’t hear our own TV, and talking to him about it is always met with, “Yeah, yeah, sorry! Of course!” and then him never actually turning anything down. I wake up in the middle of the night to an odd noise that takes me a moment to identify. It is a rhythmic thumping and squeaking, directly above us. I realize this must be the neighbor’s bedroom, as the apartment layouts are identical. The moment I wonder if my wife is still asleep, she speaks.)

Wife: “Um…”

Me: “Yeah. I hear it, too.”

Wife: “What… what is it?”

Me: “What do you think it is, honey?”

Wife: *wearily* “Oh, no.”

(Right then, the noise stops. Then we hear footsteps across the room towards the bathroom. Then a door shutting. Then silence. Then a flush.)

Wife: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

(I am an apartment manager. I receive a phone call from a woman asking for information about our apartments. She asked me a series of questions regarding the rental amount, utilities, parking, etc., all very good questions. Finally, she asks:)

Caller: “How close are you located to the beach?”

Me: “Our location is 3½ miles to the beach.”

Caller: “Is that walking or driving?”

Me: *holding back laughter* “Either one. We are located 3½ miles to the beach.”

(She seemed a little frustrated that I wouldn’t tell her whether that was walking or driving.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Complex]. This is [My Name] speaking! How may I help you?”

Caller: “Well, honey, I’ve got to schedule an appointment.”

Me: “Okay, great! Are you a current tenant or are you looking for a new apartment?”

Caller: “Uh… which ever one hurts less.”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Caller: “Well, it’s just time for my yearly mammogram, and they usually don’t feel too good.”

Me: “Ma’am, this is an apartment complex… I believe you have the wrong number.”

Caller: “Are you sure?”

(I live in a dog-friendly apartment complex, which is great, but can be a pain in the case of people like my downstairs neighbor. She constantly lets her dogs out without a leash and then stands around calling for them for several minutes. In this story, this is happening at four in the morning.)

Lady: “Sadie! Oh, Sadie, where are you?”

Male Neighbor: *slams open window* “Buy a god-d*** leash, woman!”

(She hasn’t so far.)