A friend of mine rents a room in a larger rented house. While nice and pretty new, her room is very bare, no shelves, coat hooks, picture hooks, etc.

She has gotten permission from the landlord and bought all the hardware, but with no tools or experience, she has asked me to lend a hand in return for a couple of cases of beer, and I’m more than happy to help.

I’m just finishing when one of her housemates arrives. My friend sees who it is and rushes off.

When she comes back, she looks frustrated.

Friend: “Sorry, she can be a right pain; any little thing sets her off. I even warned her you were going to be here. She is already moaning about your car.”

Me: “I’m parked in the visitors’ space, though.”

Friend: “Yeah, I know, she just likes to moan.” *Pauses* “This is looking good.”

Me: “Yeah, just need to fill them all up.”

We start hanging coats and boxing all the odds and ends. When we finish, it immediately looks better — more homely and tidy. My friend is thrilled. 

But it doesn’t last long. Her housemate knocks on the door.

Housemate: “Are you going to be much longer?! I have a migraine!”

Friend: “We were just talking. I don’t think we were making any noise? But yeah, we’re done now.”

Her housemate looks at the room, sneering.

Housemate: “The kitchen door needs fixing next.”

Friend: *To me* “Sorry, do you mind?”

Me: “No worries, as long as you’re putting the kettle on.”

The door turns out to just need a little oil. We have a coffee and chat some more. Her housemate turns up again.

Housemate: “Can he put up some shelves in my room next?”

Friend: “You would have to ask him, but I doubt it.”

Me: *Sighing* “Do you have the shelf? It might only be a two-minute job.”

Housemate: “Don’t you provide that?”

Me: “No, I’m not going to get the shelf for you. You would have to buy that first.”

Housemate: “I have to buy it?! What’s the point, then?”

She stormed off and actually slammed her bedroom door. My friend explained that she is a trustee fund “kid” and the house share was supposed to teach her some responsibility and humanity. It doesn’t seem to be working.

I am the author of the “No Borders…” stories.

My dog and I recently moved into a new flat which is closer to my work place. The building we moved into is quite old, and therefore, you can hear everything that is going on in other apartments — neighbours walking around, talking, etc. To avoid conflicts with our mostly elderly neighbours, my roommate and I have taken some precautions, like putting rugs on the floor to dampen the sound of my dog walking around.

Even though my dog is not a barker, I have picked up his training again so he stays quiet when he hears someone at the staircase outside the apartment or when the doorbell rings. We have communicated this to our neighbours, and everyone, except one elderly woman, seems to be okay with having a dog as a neighbour.

However, one afternoon about a week after we move in, our doorbell rings and my roommate opens the door.

Elderly Neighbour: “I’ve had enough of this! Your dog needs to stop barking!”

Roommate: “I’m sorry if he barked earlier this morning, but to be honest, I didn’t hear him bark even once today or yesterday.”

Elderly Neighbour: “He has been barking all afternoon! I can’t even have a cup of coffee in peace!”

Roommate: “I don’t think he was barking this afternoon. You see Ms. [My Name] and the dog—”

Elderly Neighbour: “I CAN HEAR HIM BARK AND IT NEEDS TO STOP!”

Roommate: “Listen, I’m trying to tell you that it can’t be [My Name]’s dog because—”

Elderly Neighbour: “I AM GOING TO COMPLAIN TO THE LANDLORD! IF THE D*** DOG DOESN’T STOP BARKING, HE NEEDS TO GO!”

Roommate: “With all respect, I—”

Elderly Neighbour: “HE NEEDS TO GO!”

With this, she turns around and goes back to her apartment. My roommate, utterly confused, stands in the doorway for a few moments and then notices a faint barking sound. She follows it downstairs, where she can hear some barking sounds from a TV show coming from one of the neighbours’ apartments that’s right below the angry lady’s apartment. She immediately sends me a text, telling me what happened, and I in return send an email to the landlord explaining the situation, in case our neighbour actually sends a complaint.

Why did my roommate have to text me, you ask? Well, my dog and I left in the morning to meet some friends and didn’t come back home until a few hours after this happened.

Related:
No Borders On That Guy’s Rudeness
No Borders On That Lady’s Crazy
No Borders On That Kid’s Kindness

This happens a few years ago, before the US lifts its embargo on Cuba. My roommate has an American cousin who’s come up to Canada for the weekend. One of my other roommates is a bartender and has mixed up some drinks for us while we’re hanging out.

American Cousin: “Wow, that’s really good! What’s in it?”

[Bartender Roommate] reels off a list of ingredients, including rum.

American Cousin: “What kind of rum?”

Bartender Roommate: “Ah, my very favourite, [Brand].”

American Cousin: “Never heard of it. Is it Dominican?”

Bartender Roommate: “No, it’s Cuban.”

American Cousin: “Dude! You’ve got a hookup for Cuban rum?!”

[Bartender Roommate] laughs because she thinks he’s joking.

Bartender Roommate: “Yeah, my super-secret connection, the [Provincial Government-Run Liquor Store].”

American Cousin: “No way! Can I get in on this?”

I cut in because I can see he’s actually serious.

Me: “You can pick it up at most liquor stores here.”

American Cousin: *With a wink* “Sure, sure. So, you’ll hook me up, yeah?”

No matter how hard we tried to persuade him that it was completely legal to buy Cuban products in Canada, he kept thinking we were pulling his leg because “Cuban stuff is illegal.” Even taking him to multiple obviously legitimate liquor stores and a specialty tobacconist didn’t convince him. However, he seemed happy to go home with two or three bottles of rum and some cigars, so all’s well, I suppose.

I am an aspiring writer and have completed my first book. I print it out and put it in a binder. I meticulously edit and improve it, updating my friends and family all the way.

One roommate thinks she knows better because she’s read more books than me and her grades were better in school. One day, I go home and find that my book has been marked to death, and even worse, certain scenes, including the best one, have been scratched out. I’m upset. I know I can just print it out again, but I decide to talk to my roommates anyway.

Me: “Did one of you mark up my book?”

Roommate #1: “Not me.”

Roommate #2: “Nope.”

Roommate #3: “Yeah, I improved it. I think it’s better this way.”

Me: “Could you not? I was working on it myself, and you edited out the best scenes. If I want your help, I’ll ask for it, but unless I do, don’t touch it.”

Roommate #3: “You’re such a witch sometimes! I made it better!”

Me: “No, you ruined it! Do you remember how upset [Roommate #1] was when her boyfriend destroyed her makeup palette as a prank? I felt like [Roommate #1] when I saw that you had destroyed my book. And don’t call me names.”

Roommate #2: “Really, [Roommate #3], you need to stop touching other people’s stuff. I know it was you who stole my shampoo, too.”

[Roommate #3] sulked the rest of the night and refused to speak to me for a week. I had to shred the old manuscript and print a new one, and this time I hid it somewhere only I could find it.

This story is part of our Writers roundup!

Read the next story in this roundup!

Read the Writers roundup!

I live in a small house on campus. It is a dorm, but we only have about a dozen rooms. I become good friends with two of the other girls, [Friend #1] and [Friend #2].

My second year, at the “get to know you” meeting, the three of us decide to take one of the freshmen under our wings. Our chosen freshman, who we call “Little Fish” — freshmen are often referred to as fish around here — is a very small girl, not even 100 pounds soaking wet, maybe five-foot-nothing. She is a sweet little thing, she was homeschooled, and while she knows how to do housework and is very well-prepared academically, she is very naive and believes nothing bad could ever happen to her.

One day, we find out she has been walking home alone from her night classes. Being the concerned big sisters we are, we have to stage an intervention. We sit her down in the lobby one day.

Friend #1: “Okay, Little Fish, it has come to our attention that you are walking home at night alone and unarmed.”

Little Fish: “Um, I guess.”

Me: “And are you aware just how dangerous this is?”

Little Fish: “Um, no. I mean, you guys walk around alone all the time. I don’t see why I shouldn’t if you do.”

[Friend #1] and I are both over 100 pounds and at least half a foot taller than Little Fish. [Friend #2] weighs more than all of us combined and is a weightlifter.

Friend #2: “Fish, you are small and portable.”

Little Fish: “No, I’m not.”

Me: “Yes, you are.”

Little Fish: “I’m not.”

[Friend #2] stands up, grabs Little Fish, throws her over her shoulder, sprints down the hall, touches the back door, and then sprints back and drops Little Fish back on the couch.

Friend #2: “See, portable.”

Little Fish: “That’s not fair! I wasn’t prepared for any of you to try and kidnap me. I’d be prepared for a stranger on the street.”

Me: *Standing up slowly* “Okay, Little Fish, I’m going to pick you up now.”

I proceed to grab her by the waist and carry her a few feet while she flails her hands about wildly. She manages to make contact with my face a few times but I don’t even have a bruise the next day. After I set her down again:

Little Fish: “But [Friend #2] could carry both of you off just as easy.”

Friend #1: “Honey, I carry a full-sized umbrella everywhere no matter the weather. It’s not just a style choice; that thing is a weapon and I can use it.”

Me: “And I have pepper spray on my key chain and have been learning aikido for years.”

Friend #2: “Heck, I carry pepper spray and I’m the least likely person in this room to ever need to use it.”

Little Fish: “Oh, but why would anyone want to kidnap me?”

Friend #1: “Because the world is a dark and scary place full of bad people.”

Little Fish: “It is?!”

I started dragging Little Fish to my aikido classes. We also found a friend of a friend who was taking the same night class and got him to walk with her, since his boyfriend’s dorm was in the building next door to ours.