Dumb As A Post

, , , , , | Working | March 8, 2019

(We live in a townhome complex where we have community mailboxes. Usually, if you get a package, it’s placed in a larger mailbox and the key to access it is placed in your personal mailbox. Our mail carrier is already notorious for mis-delivering mail in our neighborhood, so when we don’t receive several packages, we think he’s given them to the wrong home again. We’re outside one day and we manage to see him while he’s at the mailboxes. We grab his attention and have this conversation:)

Husband: “Hey, we’ve had three packages that tracking says were delivered to us, but we never got them. Is there any chance you put them in the wrong box?”

Postal Worker: “I doubt it. What’s your address?” *checks our address and starts opening the package-sized mailboxes* “See? They’re all right here.”

(Sure enough, they are all together in one package-sized mailbox.)

Husband: “Okay, but then why didn’t you put the key to it in our mailbox? We never got the key, so we didn’t know they were there and had no way to get them!”

Postal Worker: “Oh, the key for that box is missing. It got lost a couple weeks ago.”

(Yup. He put our packages into a locked mailbox, didn’t tell us, didn’t give us the key, and didn’t understand why we had no idea our stuff was there.)

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Makes You Wish He’d Dig Himself A Hole And Fall In It

, , , , , | Friendly | February 28, 2019

(Living right next door to me is an obnoxious black man in his 30s; for the record, I’m white. For the most part, he’s just a name-calling windbag who curses like a kid who just learned all the bad words. However, he does have an ill-mannered pit bull to discourage people from standing up to him. And while he hates everyone, he seems to hate me the most. Why? Well… Case #1: The Hole. I am walking back home from the store, which takes me by his house. Mind you, he hasn’t been a resident for even 12 hours at this point, and I find a freshly-dug hole at the fence leading into my yard. I know nothing about his dog, but I do know that’s a bad place to dig a hole into my yard. Since I’m here, anyway, I decide to handle it now. Both of them decide to greet me at the door.)

Neighbor: “Yeah?”

Me: “Hey, neighbor, mind filling in that hole your dog dug?”

Neighbor: “He didn’t dig a hole. Your mutt did.”

Me: “Really? She dug a hole behind my shed, in a space too narrow for her, and did it by pushing the dirt onto your side of the fence?”

Neighbor: “My dog doesn’t dig holes.”

Me: “Well, since you have the dirt and the space, why don’t you fill it in?”

Neighbor: “Your dog dug it! You fill it!”

Me: *turns to leave* “I can’t. I’m not messing with that nest of spiders. If you’re not going to fill it in, I just hope they don’t hurt your dog.”

(For the record, while I hate bugs, and spiders are a “get the flamethrower” level for me, I don’t mind that nest. They kill the bugs that would kill my garden, none of us can get back there anyway, and barring an allergic reaction, there’s nothing dangerous to anything larger than a mouse. But why tell him that? He starts filling in the hole and starts scolding his dog when he re-digs the hole. I just wish he’d fill it in before he went to bed. But now I’m getting ahead of myself. Case #2: The Walk. While I work from home, my wife works in an actual office. She’s usually home around six, which is when our dog needs to go out. As such, I make it a habit to take our dog out front so she can greet her mother. Since our yard is fenced off, I let her run around off a leash while I sit on the stoop. In the time we wait, she usually greets every passerby by running up to the fence. Outside of scaring a few people when she runs up — and most of them relax when they realize she’s just excited — she’s well-behaved. This includes when strange dogs walk by, even the neighbor and his yapping pit bull. On this particular occasion, however, the neighbor and his pit bull pass by right as my wife gets home. As always, his dog decides he wants to bark and growl at anything in sight. The good news is the neighbor has his dog under control. The bad news is that the pit bull barking at my wife sets off our dog. She runs right up to the fence and starts barking right back at the pit bull. I am going to break it up, but then the neighbor decides to kick my fence to spook her away. Now, I’m more content to head towards the gate.)

Me: “Why not come on through and let your dog off the leash?”

(He starts laughing.)

Neighbor: “You want them to fight? You know this is a pit bull?”

Me: “Do you know she’s a wolfdog?” *not lying*

Neighbor: “Like, bred to fight wolves?”

Me: “Like bred with a wolf. She’s more than 60% wolf, has longer, sharper teeth than your American Pit Bull Terrier, and has a jaw strength of about twice your American Pit Bull Terrier.”

(I’m still not lying. And at this point the gate is fully unlatched and open.)

Me: “C’mon. Let’s let ’em go.”

(Right on cue, he starts tugging on that leash like a maniac as he’s walking away from my wife and fence.)

Neighbor: “[Dog]! [Dog]! C’mon!”

(Since then, he’s always walked his dog away from my yard, and I’ve overheard even harsher scolding when his dog tries to dig a hole into my yard. But most importantly, I proved once and for all my dog wouldn’t run out of the gate if I let her out in my yard while I bring in groceries. Case #3: The Bus. Among my neighbor’s sources of income is driving a party bus. For the unfamiliar, it’s basically a small nightclub on wheels that can hold about a dozen people. One night, at around one in the morning, he decides it is the perfect time to turn everything on at full blast so the whole street shakes. And he won’t stop. Once again, I go out to greet him.)

Me: “What the f*** are you doing?!”

Neighbor: “Testing the systems! Now f*** off!”

Me: “It’s one in the morning! People are trying to sleep! Turn it off!”

Neighbor: “F*** you, you racist!”

Me: “What?”

Neighbor: “I’ve gotten nothing but f****** trouble from you! I’ve been living here fifteen f****** years and you’re the only f****** person who’s bothered me in that time! F*** off!”

(For clarity, he’s been here about a month at this point. However, I decide to take his advice to heart and go back inside… and right to my phone.)

Me: “I’d like to report a disturbance. There’s a strange bus out on [Street] in front of [Neighbor’s Address] that’s blasting incredibly loud music. The driver refuses to move or turn it off. The plate number is [Plate].”

(From my window, I see the police arrive and administer a sobriety test. He fails it. He never explicitly says anything to me, but since the bus disappears not long after, I’m assuming he lost his license. Case #4: The Skunk. Remember how I mentioned the hole his dog digs is let unfilled until the following morning? While it’s too small for either of our dogs to go through, and the area behind the shed is too narrow for either of them, it’s just the right size for a skunk, which is also too big for the spiders to kill. We’ve always had one who likes to skulk around early on garbage day. Thanks to the prep work I had to do for a wolfdog and a decent neighbor, the worst it ever amounted to for us was a very cautious walk to the car. Now that I have a neighbor who is leaving a hole under my fence, it now means my garden is getting torn up. I remedy that fairly quickly with some leftover cement and fencing, but there is one anomaly. While the skunk used to only visit on trash day, it is now visiting nightly. It takes a different neighbor to explain that detail. The obnoxious neighbor has been hired as a line cook at a restaurant a few streets over. Due to the size of the location, this restaurant can’t have a dumpster, so every night one of the employees is given the job of driving their trash to the dump. Our obnoxious neighbor, when charged with this duty, had decided it makes more sense to drive it home, leave it on his lawn, and wait for garbage day. Armed with this knowledge, and remembering he wants me to f*** off, I take to the Internet. This search proves tricky, as many of my keywords lead to results for lessors and lessees rather than homeowners concerned about their neighbors. As such, I call about something else, instead.)

Me: “I’d like to report a case of illegal dumping. For the previous few nights, someone’s been throwing several bags of trash into the yard at [Neighbor’s Address]. I’m also worried about any health risk this may pose to the entire neighborhood.”

(The effect was more profound than I could have imagined. First of all, while they learned it wasn’t illegal dumping, they did learn it WAS a public health hazard. Second, the restaurant caught wind of the incident, as well. It turns out they had been paying the same dumping fee for so long, they gave their employees the money to cover it up front and trusted them to be honest. When the owners found out he’d effectively been stealing their money, he was immediately fired and sued for the dumping fees he pocketed. Third, I’m pretty sure he found out I’m the one who reported him. His demeanor towards me specifically got progressively worse after this event. It also suggests he lost that lawsuit. I don’t know what case #5 will be, but I’m not looking forward to it.)

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So Happy You Could Just Die

, , , , , | Friendly | February 24, 2019

I am a minister, but last year I was still an intern. Part of being an intern meant being sent to a setting I had little experience with, which in this case was a small town in Northern Canada — like, moose-wander-into-town Northern.

I had done a lot up there, but the final thing I needed to do for my internship to be complete was a funeral. But despite the number of elderly, and sick, they all pulled through the winter.

I had three days left of my internship, and four people died, all of old age, peacefully, in their sleep. The first thing my 93-year-old neighbour told me was:

“Well, we knew you needed a funeral to make the most of your time here. The whole town banded together, and figured that one of ’em would want you to do it!”

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Of Pitbulls, Cigarettes, And Credit Checks

, , , | Right | January 15, 2019

(I’m a property manager working an open house for one of our small rentals. I’m just packing up when this woman, smoking a cigarette, comes through the front door.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but we don’t allow smoking inside our residences.”

Customer: “Well, why the f*** not?!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, aside from the smell, which is darn near impossible to get out, the nicotine adheres to the paint, making it very hard on our maintenance crews when you move out.”

Customer: “Ugh, fine!” *flicks her cigarette out front door* “This is $950 a month, right?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, so with approved credit, you’re looking at $2,000 to move in, a $1,000 security deposit, $950 first month’s rent, and a $50 application fee.”

Customer: “Background check?! This is America! Ain’t nobody gettin’ my social!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, without an application, there’s really nothing I can do. We have to know what your credentials are before we can sign a lease.”

Customer: “I’ve been renting a four-bedroom, two-bath for $1,600 a month for the last six years, but my a**hole landlord just told us we need to move because he doesn’t like my daughter’s pit bull. If I can afford $1,600 a month, I can easily pay $950 for this s***hole!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, our leasing requirements don’t allow pit bulls in any of our units, so this house won’t be a good fit for you, either, I’m afraid. But best of luck in your search!”

Customer: “Well, why the f*** not?! There’s nothing wrong with pit bulls! You just don’t want to rent to me because I’m black! You racist f***! I’m going to report you and you’ll get fired!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am.” *I’ve gotten her to the front door at this point* “First off, I’m a licensed realtor, and can’t approve or deny you based on race. Second, you’ve stated that you refuse to do our application, and third, you’ve admitted that you have an animal I can’t approve.” *closes front door and locks it* “I suggest you look on Craigslist for a private owner that might be willing to accept your animal, but our company policy is to follow the restricted breeds list. Have a great day!”

(I got in my company car, while she stood in the driveway and screamed all kinds of things at me. She followed me back to my office and proceeded to tell my broker how I’d told her we couldn’t rent to her because she was black, that we were all racists, and that she was going to report us to the state and get us “shut down for good.” That is, until my boss’ wife walked in. She’s a taller WOC who gave her back everything she gave and then some. Cigarette lady RAN out of our office, and no, we haven’t received any complaints from the state.)

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Her Depth Perception Is Unparalleled

, , , , | Legal | January 3, 2019

I live in a small narrow street with little parking space. If you want to park your car, you have to master the art of parallel parking. One evening my doorbell rings. There’s a young girl at my door asking me if I could move my car forward so she can park her car.

She is acting like I’m taking up two parking spaces with my car. I go with her and have a look just to find that there’s enough space behind my car to park a stretched limousine. The girl drives a Fiat 500, and if she knew how to parallel park she could have parked her car without any problem. I tell her that.

The girl gets more irate and tells me that I have to move my f****** car and learn how to park. I take out my phone and start taking pictures of her, her car, her license plates, and my car — just in case she gets really crazy. Next, I tell her that I’m not moving my car and that she’d better learn to park.

Just as I’m saying this, a neighbour comes driving in her Mercedes station car and parks it behind my car without any problems. She gets out of her car and asks me what’s going on.
Before I can say anything, the young girl gets into her Fiat and races off.

A police car has to make an emergency stop to avoid her while she crosses an intersection without even slowing down. The police go after her. I don’t know what happens next, but I’ll guess that she will get a lecture about road safety and how to drive a car.

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