I saw a pitbull roaming my yard yesterday morning. Like the fearless(/stupid) woman I am, I went outside and tried to baby-talk it into coming to me. The dog watched me a moment, bowed down like he was playing, barked, then ran off. I got in my car and drove around for a little while to try to find him; I succeeded in finding him five times in twenty minutes, but he repeated his bow-and-dash game every time until I lost him again. I did get a picture, so I went to my community Facebook page and made a post.

Me: “Hi, neighbors. This intact male dog was in my yard this morning on [Street] around 7 AM. Unfortunately, all attempts to secure him failed, but I do have a photo. If anyone knows him or knows where he belongs, please tell his family.”

I got the usual responses: “Poor thing is scared,” “Hopefully someone realizes he is missing!” “Looks like a bully breed to me,” and so on. Then, [Woman] commented:

Woman: “He needs to be secured! Don’t let your dog wander! So irresponsible!”

I thought this was a generic comment on the owners, so I didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, [Woman] messaged me privately.

Woman: “Go get your god-d*** dog before someone hits it!”

Me: “I don’t have a dog. I reported seeing a dog, though. Is that what you mean?”

Woman: “He needs to be contained. Why would you just let him run around town? What if he bites a child?”

Me: “I imagine his owners would have quite an issue on their hands. But again, I don’t have a dog. I saw him wandering and could not secure him.”

Woman: “People like you do not deserve pets!”

Me: “Okay, nice talking to you. Bye now.”

Woman: “You should be ashamed to allow such a vicious animal in your home!”

Woman: “I hope he gets hit so you’ll learn your lesson!”

Woman: “Go to Hell!”

She continued spewing her nonsense for a while, then suddenly stopped. The dog reappeared in my yard again that evening. This time I had some ground beef and rice cooked just for him. I coaxed him close enough to get a slip lead on his neck and brought him in my garage. He did have an ID tag, so I was able to get in contact with his owners. They told me that he had run out the door when their teenage son left for school that morning and only found out when they returned home to an empty house.

For my own entertainment, I went back on Facebook and tried to view (Woman)’s profile. It came up as not found, so I asked my friend to look her up. She existed! I can only guess that she blocked me.

It’s a sunny Saturday morning, and I’m with my two girls (eleven and thirteen), at a suburban yard sale. The kids come back to me after looking around.

Me: “See anything you like?”

Kid #1: “There was a cheap MacBook. It was, like, a hundred.”

Me: “That’s really cheap!”

Kid #1: “Yeah, but it’s broken. It’s got some big crack on the side!”

Kid #2: “Yeah, it’s huge! Like, it goes all along the side!”

I walk over to inspect it. I pick up the laptop, turning it over in my hands.

Me: “I can’t see the crack.”

Kid #1: “Oh my God, Dad, it’s right there! Are you blind?” *Points.*

Me: “That’s… a CD drive.”

Both of my kids take a pause.

Kid #1: “…What’s a CD?”

I just sigh, suddenly feeling every one of my years, while the yard sale host chuckles from their lawn chair.

A couple of weeks ago my kids and their neighbors decided to have a bake sale. We live in a tourist area with high foot traffic, and the kids make a killing. I tell the kids I ought to charge them for the labor (I said I’d help bake) and ingredients so they learn the concept of net gains, but instead I’ll donate to their cause, and just to bring me back the money I lent them to make change. I love seeing the kids be entrepreneurial, work so hard, and get so excited at their success. 

After a couple of hours, the neighbor’s son decides he’s bored and wants to go home, so he tells my kid:

Neighbor’s Son: “When you’re done, come by and deliver half the money.”

My Son: “Hey, that’s not fair, if you’re leaving, we should split the money now.”

Mind you, the bulk of their sales was my baking.

The neighbor’s kid gets super angry, but mine sticks to their guns, they split the money and the kid leaves in a huff. Mine comes in a few hours later, having lugged home all the gear and cleaned up, annoyed that the neighbor’s kid got annoyed at them. Then I get a knock on the door. It’s the neighbor’s mom, with the kid, who is still pouting. The mom’s holding a receipt.

The mom explains that they purchased a bunch of stuff for the bake sale, it cost a lot of money, and it’s not fair that my kid is making money off their stuff, and that they should be compensated for what they purchased.

The receipt lists a bunch of items I immediately see they didn’t use (like two boxes of cereal, when they used one, napkins that I’d ended up providing), but whatever. And never mind that her son went home early and left mine to clean up. And never mind that I’d been churning out batches of cookies all morning.

 I’m irked they’ve taken what was a fun, cheerful day of kids making money hand over fist, and shown up at my door making me engage in a super awkward conversation because they assume their kid can’t be wrong. So, I say:

Me: “Of course!”

And I fetch my receipts.

I sit down and (in front of them, and out loud) calculate the cost of lemonade, and cups used. I calculate the cost of flour, sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla and butter per batch of cookies, multiplied by the number of batches made. I toss in the baking soda for free (so generous). I even subtract the value of leftover cookies.

Did I mention I made a lot of cookies? The neighbor’s kid has to fork over $23. They got pretty quiet all of a sudden.

Me: *To the neighbor.* “Thank you so much for making sure things were fair. Can I offer you a plate of cookies to take home?”

She declined.

Related:
And That’s How The Entitlement Cookie Crumbles, Part 3
And That’s How The Entitlement Cookie Crumbles, Part 2
And That’s How The Entitlement Cookie Crumbles

I live in the first of two houses on a dead-end road. My neighbor is about 500 feet down the road, but still visible from the beginning of the road where my house sits. He stopped by on a Friday night to let me know he was having a cookout tomorrow, so there would be a lot of cars along the side of the road. No problem, just make sure we can get in and out.

[Neighbor] had placed signs along the road saying the party was further down, with arrows pointing toward his place. I even agreed to have a few placed along my property to help clear up any confusion. Saturday, around noon, cars started arriving, rolling slowly down the road. One or two stopped at our house but moved along. Then a couple came, parked in the grass between our houses, and walked down to the neighbor’s house. I stepped outside.

Me: “Hi! Hey, please don’t park there.”

Woman #1: “Oh, we’re here for [Neighbor].”

Me: “Right, which is over there.”

Man #1: “Well, where are we supposed to park?”

Me: “Down where the arrows are pointing.

Man #1: “Oh, okay, it’s like that. Very neighborly behavior.”

Me: “Yeah … directions are difficult, huh?”

They moved their car with minimal damage to my yard. Not long after, someone else parked in the right place and walked back up to my house. I was just about at the door to direct them back when the man opened my front door and walked in.

Man #2: “Um … hello.”

Me: “You’re looking for [Neighbor], he’s the next house.”

Man #2: “Oh.”

He looks around with a slightly disgusted expression.

Man #2: “Good deal…”

He left, and I decided to lock my door to prevent another person from just walking in. *Still* someone else parked in my yard and walked up past the signs and right to my front door. They tried to open the door (without knocking), and when that didn’t work, they pounded on the window next to it.

Me: *From inside.* “You need to go next door!”

More knocking on the window.

Me: “Wrong house!”

He kicks the front door.

Me: “I’m calling the cops!”

That was enough to get him to go to the right house, but not enough to make him move his car. I had to walk down and find my neighbor at his own party.

Me: “Hey, sorry to interrupt your party here. Someone parked in my yard and tried to get in my house. I told them it was the wrong place, but they didn’t move their car.”

Neighbor: *Looking.* “Yeah… I’ll get him to move. I’m sorry.”

Ten minutes later, the SUV was out of my yard, but not without some angry feedback from the man. The rest of the guests were able to follow the directions, so there was no more drama, but I did wake up the next day to a suspiciously human-sized pile of s*** on my doorstep.

I’m weaving through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with the usual leaflet-pushers, when one guy steps right in my path. He’s holding a laminated sign and a bundle of wobbly home-printed pamphlets. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, an honest-to-god flat earther!

Flat-Earther: “Excuse me! If you have just two minutes to spare, you’d be surprised at how obvious it is that governments and the media have been lying to you.”

Me: “I’m good, thanks!”

Flat-Earther: “You already suspect the earth isn’t round, don’t you?”

Huh? I’m just a normal-looking guy. Why does he think I look like I’d swallow his Neo/Matrix speech? It irks me, so I throw in a comment (stolen from a meme) as I walk away.

Me: “If the Earth were actually flat, cats would have knocked everything off the edge by now.”

Flat-Earther: “Laugh if you must, but that’s what the government wants. Planes just fly in circles to trick us, and—”

Me: “—Mate, Ryanair couldn’t coordinate getting my luggage from London to Corfu, but you think they can coordinate part of an international conspiracy?”

I leave it at that and continue on my way, circling back to reality.