Thank Goodness For A Happy Ending

, , , , | Legal | February 4, 2021

I rent a condo. When renting, it’s not uncommon to receive mail for a previous resident who hasn’t updated their contact information. Since I’ve lived in the condo for about four years, the mail for other people has tapered off except for the occasional bit of junk mail.

Then, I suddenly start receiving a flood of mail for a woman whose name I don’t recognize. At first, I do nothing but mark the envelopes as “return to sender” and put them in the outgoing mail slot. Once I’ve gotten well over twenty pieces of mail, I ask my landlord if she recognizes the name as a previous resident.

My landlord is a retired woman who owns just the unit she lives in and mine, which she rents out for some income. She doesn’t recognize the name of the person whose mail I’m receiving, and she’s only rented out to two people before me. Since she keeps to herself, for the most part, she doesn’t know if there’s anyone in the condo complex by that name.

Over time, the mail looks more and more urgent, even from the outside. I start getting a lot of envelopes marked “past due” and “final notice.” One day, someone knocks on my door.

Debt Collector: “Hello. I’m looking for [Person whose mail I keep getting] regarding some debts that have been sent to collections.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here by that name. Her mail has been coming to my address for months, but I don’t know why.”

Debt Collector: “Oh. Well, do you know her current address or a phone number?”

Me: “No. I’ve never heard of her before receiving her mail. My landlord has owned this unit since it was built and doesn’t know her, either. No one by that name has ever lived here.”

Debt Collector: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes! If you do find her, please tell her to stop having her mail sent to me.”

The debt collector leaves and the mail doesn’t stop. Several other debt collectors come looking for the woman over the next week, resulting in pretty much the same conversation each time. I’m getting very frustrated with the situation. A week later, there’s another knock on my door, but this time it’s the police.

Police Officer: “Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you [Person whose mail I keep getting]?”

Me: “No, I’m not. Her mail has been coming to my address for months now, but no one of that name has ever lived here. I don’t know who she is or where you can find her. If I knew how to contact her, I would tell her to stop sending me her overdue bills.”

Police Officer: “Do you know anyone who might know her location?”

Me: “You can try asking my landlord, but she didn’t recognize the name, either.”

I gave the police officer my landlord’s phone number and hoped it would help in clearing up the situation. The mail did start to slow down after about a week. The next time I talked to my landlord, she told me what had happened.

At an HOA meeting not long after the police officer contacted my landlord, she asked the other homeowners if they recognized the woman’s name. One of them did. She turned out to be an elderly woman with undiagnosed dementia, living alone. After moving into Unit 33 several months before, she had mixed up the address and thought she was in Unit 3, my unit. She used my address for all her contact information. Due to her mental state, she didn’t find it unusual that she simply stopped receiving bills upon moving in.

The police officer was looking for her, not to collect a debt, but to do a wellness check; an elderly person who stops paying bills for several months raises some red flags, after all. Once he found her and saw that she was clearly unable to live alone, he got in contact with her family. They found a safer living arrangement for her.

I’m glad the woman got the help she needed, but I started feeling pretty guilty once I learned the full story. I’d spent months feeling annoyed at this woman and suspecting her of fraud. All the while, she was in a vulnerable situation and might have gotten help sooner if I hadn’t just ignored her mail. Nothing like this has ever happened to me again, but if it does, I’ll bring it to someone’s attention far sooner.

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We Happen To Know Several Boys Who Are VERY Cute

, , , , , , , | Friendly | February 4, 2021

I’m walking through a park and a very sweet puppy comes over to say hello. I don’t pet it in case that isn’t okay with its owner, but I greet it as warmly as I can.

Me: “Hey, cutie!”

The puppy’s owner whirls round to glare at me.

Owner: “He’s a boy, actually!”

The owner stormed off, pulling the poor puppy behind him. I didn’t think puppies had a concept of gender, let alone one so fragile that being called a cutie might threaten one’s masculinity.

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She’s Just Jealous Because Her Left Hand Is Useless

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 26, 2021

I’m a Caucasian woman, and I’m rather lazily eating sushi and reading on my phone in a food court while waiting for a movie. Suddenly, a woman storms up to me, demanding angrily:

Woman: “Who are you trying to impress?”

Me: “I— What? No one.”

Woman: “Everyone can eat with chopsticks.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m just eating sushi. I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

Woman: “Yeah. ‘Cause everyone can eat with chopsticks.”

Me: “Okay. If everyone can use chopsticks, then how would I be trying to impress anyone?”

Woman: “You’re using your left hand!”

Me: “What? I’m left-handed.”

Woman: “That’s ridiculous.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “Left-handed is for writing.”

Me: *Pause* “What?”

Woman: “Just because you write with your left hand, it doesn’t mean you have to show off.”

Me: “Seriously? I do everything with my left hand. I’m left-handed.”

Woman: “Left-handed people write with their left hand. You can do everything else normally. You shouldn’t show off.”

Me: “I— I’m sorry you think I’m showing off, but I really can’t use chopsticks with my right hand any more than you can with your left.”

She was so upset that I put my chopsticks and phone down and ate the last few pieces with my right-hand fingers.

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It’s Never Too Late To Learn Manners

, , , , | Friendly | January 21, 2021

I take my elderly mother shopping at a bulk grocery store. We each take a cart, as we each shop for our own homes. At one point, we stop in front of an end cap while my mom goes to the restroom. I stand between the carts and start looking over my shopping list. A woman passes me without saying anything. She circles around and comes back, stopping on the other side of the aisle.

Woman: *Annoyed* “AHEM!”

Me: “I’m done shopping if—” *looks up* “Oh, sorry. I thought—”

Woman: “You’re in my way.”

She points at the display behind me. I give a fake laugh.

Me: “You meant, ‘Excuse me,’ right?”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “You meant to say, ‘Excuse me,’ right?”

We stare at each other, but she looks away first.

Woman: *Blushes* “Excuse me, please.”

Me: *Cheery* “Of course!”

I moved both carts out of the way, and the woman took what she was looking for and hurried away. My mother came out of the restroom and we went on shopping without further incident.

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Be A Jerk In Moderation

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 20, 2021

This takes place in a relatively popular Minecraft server for my area, where everyone is challenged to build the biggest, best build they can. I personally love modern-looking mansions, so I decide to build a huge one, and since I’m gay, I put a rainbow beacon set on the roof. It is huge, and it takes me weeks of logging on during every spare moment I have to finish just the outside. I start on the inside, but I have to log off for the night.

When I log back in the next morning, I can’t see the rainbow beacons. There are hundreds of other modern mansions that are just as big and spectacular as mine, so it will take me at least thirty minutes to look, but I have to be somewhere in thirty-five minutes. I decide to take the fast route and just chat [Moderator #1] to see what happened. I am also acquainted with [Moderator #1] in real life, so I have an idea of what happened.

Me: “Hey, [Moderator #1], do you know what happened to my rainbow beacons that were on top of my mansion? I can’t find it otherwise, because it looks so similar to everyone else’s.”

Moderator #1: “Oh, those? Yeah, the person that lives in your mansion now took them off.”

Me: “In my mansion?! I didn’t give anyone permission to be in my mansion!”

Moderator #1: “Oh, well, you gave me permission to sell one of your other mansions, so I figured you wouldn’t care if I sold this one.”

Me: “I only gave you permission to sell that mansion because it was small and crappy! This one I’m not even done with yet, and it’s the hardest build I’ve ever made!”

Moderator #1: “Whatever. It’s not my problem that you didn’t clarify it was just the one mansion. If you want to complain further, here’s the gamertag of the person that lives in your mansion now. [Moderator #2].”

[Moderator #1] then logs off, leaving me to talk to [Moderator #2] alone.

Me: *Fuming* “Hey, [Moderator #2], I need to talk to you.”

[Moderator #2] reads all the chats.

Moderator #2: “Yeah, [My Gamertag], I kind of figured that out. I’m so sorry and I had no idea he didn’t have permission from you to sell the mansion. I also thought I got scammed since the inside wasn’t even finished.”

I’m relieved that [Moderator #2] isn’t an a**hole like [Moderator #1].

Me: “Yeah, the reason it wasn’t finished is that I didn’t know he was going to sell it. I’ll get him to give you a refund.”

Moderator #2: “He’d better give me a refund! I spent four emeralds and three wither skeleton skulls on this house!”

Me: “Oh, also can you put the rainbow beacons back up? I have to leave now, but that’s the only way I’ll be able to see it when I log back in.”

Moderator #2: “No problem. Also, after he gives me my refund, [Moderator #1] is getting banned!”

[Moderator #1] did end up paying back [Moderator #2] in full, he gave me an apology, and then he got banned for selling property without permission from the owner. I finally finished my house, and I also never saw [Moderator #1] in person or on Minecraft again.

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