Confusion Of The Traveling Shirts

, , , , , , | | Friendly | July 18, 2019

(I offer to clean some football shirts for my seven-year-old son’s team in our village. One of the mothers says they will send someone to pick them up next Sunday at noon. About that time, the doorbell rings and my son and I go to answer the door. The woman standing there is too young to be a mother. I assume she is maybe an older sister. She is carrying a bag containing some bulky items.)

Me: *to son* “What do you say?”

My Son: *handing the clothes over in a shopping bag* “Here you go.”

(The young woman looks surprised for a moment, before she smiles, takes the bag, thanks my son, and walks away. Twenty minutes later, one of the mothers comes to the door.)

Mother: “Hi, I’m here to pick up the clothes.”

Me: *confused* “But you just sent someone.”

Mother: *just as puzzled* “No, I didn’t.”

(I go into panic mode, and start feeling a little embarrassed. I immediately tell her everything that happened. The neighbour, hearing us talking loudly, interrupts and says that a young woman just gave her some goods she had ordered that matched the description. Another neighbour says that the woman in question was selling goods to various houses in our street.)

Mother: *loudly* “YOU GAVE OUR CLOTHES AWAY TO A SALESWOMAN?!”

(A third neighbour, as told to us the following day, had also ordered some goods. The woman giving them to her had asked if she also wanted to buy some clothes for “a cheaper price.” The neighbour brought the clothes for £20.)

A Woman’s Place Is Anywhere She D*** Well Wants

, , , , , | | Legal | July 12, 2019

(It’s very hot and late at night, and I’m trying to find cool air on the terrace. My very loud, thick, stupid, and rough neighbour is on his terrace and he’s so loud I cannot help but overhear what he’s complaining about.)

Neighbour: “Yeah, dat girl cop stops me and she wants to control things and all, and I tell her, ‘Nah, stop pissing me off, get back to the kitchen, do some cooking, clean up, leave me alone.’ And then she writes me down, the b****. And ya know what? I’m even scheduled to go to court! Just because I told her to go do women stuff! Life’s a b****!”

Anxiety Is Your Neighbor

, , , | | Friendly | July 1, 2019

(One of my neighbors is an older woman whose husband died suddenly a few years ago. She fell and was injured shortly afterward, so I volunteered to take care of her dog and do some other tasks around her house while she recovered. Since then, she usually invites me over for tea and a chat every so often. Last year, my father’s girlfriend brought us to the Big E — a fair with lots of different forms of entertainment, vendors, and really good food — and my neighbor called me over a few days after.)

Neighbor: “So, how was the fair?”

Me: “Oh, it was so fun! They had a huge petting zoo, and acrobats…” *talks about the various things we saw for a bit* “I had some really good clam chowder and frozen cheesecake there, and I also got this nice little pack of aromatherapy bottles for my aunt.”

Neighbor: “And what did you get me?”

(I think she’s joking at first, so I give a half-smile and a bit of a chuckle, but her face remains stony.)

Neighbor: “You didn’t even think of me, did you? You know, I treat you like a daughter and you don’t spare me a second thought.”

(She launched into a small diatribe about how selfish I was, while I sat there feeling very flustered, guilty, and uncomfortable. But part of me also felt like this wasn’t fair at all, because she knew I didn’t have much money of my own and that the aunt in question had been a big help when my mother passed away. Her death had also been very sudden, and since I was young at the time, it left me with a few issues, primarily low self-esteem and trouble standing up for myself. I bought my neighbor some tea around Christmastime to try and mend things, but she continued to throw in passive-aggressive comments every time I saw her, even as she asked me for help with things like setting up her new cell phone, and guilt-tripped me if I hesitated to agree. Eventually, I started seeing a therapist, who told me I shouldn’t have to put up with that, and has steadily been helping me become more assertive. I still see the neighbor occasionally — I can’t completely avoid her, since I live at the end of a dead-end street and have to walk by her house just about every day — but I’m at least getting better at turning down her requests without feeling like a terrible person. I also found out that the apparent cause of her change in mood was that my dad’s girlfriend is the niece of a friend she had a falling-out with; I guess she decided to take it out on me?)

Barking On Brand

, , , , , , | | Friendly | June 30, 2019

I live on a small residential road where the mailboxes are on houses and the mail carrier walks down the street to put the mail in each box. Out for a walk on a nice spring day, when a lot of people had their windows open, I saw the mail carrier going up to one of my neighbor’s houses.

This particular neighbor has a pair of lively Labradors who think every human they’ve ever met is their friend but announce this fact with very loud barking. As the mail carrier walked up to the house, I heard the dogs go off, and then over top of them my neighbor shouting, “IT’S JUST THE MAILMAN! WOULD YOU STOP BEING A DOGGIE STEREOTYPE?!”

You Gotta Be Kid-ding Me

, , , , , | | Friendly | June 28, 2019

(I’ve recently moved into a house that I am renting with a few other housemates. Most of the other houses in the area have families living in them, so it isn’t uncommon to have a bunch of kids running around the area. On this day, I am unloading some groceries from my car when a few kids run past. Suddenly, the kids dart in and grab the bags that I haven’t picked up and run off with them.)

Me: “Hey!”

(The kids run to one of the houses a few doors down, so I drop the bags I’ve already picked up back in the trunk, shut and lock it to prevent a repeat, and then run after them. They’ve already entered the house by the time I get there, so I pound on the door. A lady answers.)

Me: *with an attempt at a polite smile* “Hi. A couple of your kids grabbed some bags from my car while I was unloading, so I’m here to get those back. I think–”

Lady: *screeching* “How dare you?! You accusing my boys of stealing?! They wouldn’t do that! How dare you?!”

(I have zero tolerance for the type of people who resort straight to shouting, so I pull out my phone and punch in three numbers, before holding it up so she can see.)

Me: “I was willing to write it off as childish mischief. Do we need to treat it as actual theft?”

(The lady glares at me and looks like she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward, putting my foot over the threshold. She actually growls, before stepping back and picking up the bags from where they’ve been dumped on a side table, just inside the door.)

Lady: “Fine, if you have to have them so bad.”

Me: *in the most disgusted tone I can muster* “They’re mine, b****.”

(I then stomped off, leaving her to gape after me at calling her what she is.)

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