25 Jerk Neighbours That People Had To Personally Deal With
Horrible times people had to deal with unneighbourly behaviour.
Nobody wants to be a bad neighbour or, worse, end up with a bad neighbour because it leaves room for unpleasant interactions that we’d rather avoid. It's difficult to evade proximity with one’s neighbours as you tend to see them frequently, and worse, they know where you live. So if there is any bad blood between you, it’s pretty easy for the neighbour to access you during your downtime and potentially ruin your peace.
Unfortunately, though, no matter how much you try to avoid conflict, it can happen regardless. Folks recently discussed their most problematic unneighbourly experiences on Quora, and the discussion went viral. Scroll below to read these riveting personal tales of the worst people to live next door to.
Image source: Kelley Spartiatis, Nataliya Vaitkevich
Dave was very welcoming. He knocked to my house the day we moved in and gave me a bottle of wine as a gift and introduced himself. I liked Dave from that moment.
Dave had disabilities so had a disabled car speck outside of his house. The parking in that street was a nightmare and had a huge impact on our decision to move. I will get to why this is important soon.
There was an old couple called Mr and Mrs Love (how cute?) Lovely old dears. They stopped to say hi one day whilst I was painting my front wall. Mrs Love told me to be careful of Dave. Apparently he was an awful man who complains and fights with all the neighbors. He would call the police for no good reason and he was cruel to his dogs.
Ok, Wow!
The woman across the street told me he was a p***phile who took videos from his bedroom of kids playing.
Another told me he called child protection on them for abusing their kids.
He shot next door but one’s cat with a pellet gun because it was in his garden, one of them said.
So, Dave was not a popular chap!
I'm not one for gossip but it's hard not to be wary when all your neighbors are telling you that the antichrist is living next door.
When my dog had puppies, Dave gave me his number and told me to call him any time, day or night, if I needed help. He was slightly deaf and didn't always hear the door bell.
Dave let me use the shared entry that was also his to store some things that I had no space for.
Dave fed my cat when I went away.
Dave never complained when my teenage son and his friends were rowdy.
Dave told me he was leaving his home to the Dogs Trust upon his death, in return for them to take his dogs and rehome them.
Dave looked after my dogs when I was going through something and wasn't home a lot. He never pried. He just supported me by being there.
Dave cried when I gave him a Christmas card. He never had one before from a neighbor.
Dave helped me move to my new house which wasn't far away, by bringing bits around that I forgot when the movers came.
The parking spot was the reason that the neighbors started a witch hunt for Dave. They said he scammed the council and wasn't really ill. Dave got something that they wanted. They didn't like it. Dave had cancer by the way. Nobody cared to ask. It was easier to start a hate campaign. It took one neighbor to tell an exaggerated story and begin the snowball effect that had Dave labelled as a pariah.
I still see Dave.
The other neighbors, I walk past them if I see them around. All of them are the worst neighbors I ever had.
I hope the couple who moved in to my house appreciate how lucky they are to have Dave next door.
Image source: Theresa Ashley, Kindel Media
The second neighbor I really didn't know her, but it doesn't mean she wasn't horrible towards me.
I had a German Shepherd/Lab mix named Moose. This dog was not only smart but well behaved. We trained to be a Search and Rescue team. In 2010 we went to Haiti after the earthquake. That spring and summer I was still dealing with issues from that myself. I began to ride my bike as part of my therapy. I would typically ride between 30 and 60 miles at least once a week.
This lady would stare at me as I rode past her house. Whatever, then when I would return she would do the same. She never said anything. I would wave but she wouldn't wave back.
When my garden EXPLODED with fruits and vegetables, I would give them away to my neighbors. I even would offer some to the guy who called the cops on me.
So I loaded up my car and drove to this lady’s house. I knocked on the door and as I opened my mouth to ask if she wanted some fruits and vegetables, she began accusing me of “casing” her house. I finally explained that I came by to offer her some fruits and vegetables from my garden. She screamed “No Solicitations” and slammed the door in my face. I went home and was loading up some more to take to my food pantry when a deputy came to my house.
The deputy told me in laughter to quit “casing” her house and then asked if he could get some tomatoes. I let him get what he wanted and we left.
That weekend I noticed a new family move in next door to me. I took a box of what I grew over and with Moose I introduced ourselves. I offered to help and they graciously declined and thanked me for what I brought. About an hour later I get a phone call from the Sheriff's office. I get a report of three kids missing and possibly in a corn field. The address was next door and it was my new neighbors' two kids and a friend of theirs. I grab my vest and Moose's leash and after getting a scent we take off into the field. At a jog we managed to find the three boys and instead of walking back the way we came, I decided to walk out of the field to the closest road.
As we exited the field we ended up in crazy lady's yard. I realized I forgot my phone, so I figured depending on where we were at we would either walk home, or I would ask someone to call the dispatcher and let them know where we were.
I didn't need to ask because crazy lady had called 911 and reported an adult, three kids, and a vicious dog attempting to break in her house.
I guess the dispatcher said that she would send somebody because she hung up the phone. She stood there gloating that she would see us go to prison for the rest of our lives.
The same Sheriff's Deputy who had told me to stop “casing” her house pulls up along with an SUV with the parents. Parents run up and hug the kids. They leave and the lady begins to lose her mind. The deputy asked if I wanted a ride home and I said yes. Crazy lady went off on the deputy for not arresting me and also for not confiscating Moose.
The deputy looked at her and said since we were performing duties in which we were considered essential for the life and safety of others, he legally could not arrest us for trespassing.
A few days later a detective came by to investigate a complaint the lady made about that incident. As we talked I heard a car door slam and then I noticed the “crazy lady” in my back yard with a plastic bag. The detective went out to confront her and in the bag was a bunch of dead wild birds.
During the course of the investigation it was discovered she had poisoned these birds and she collected them and froze them.
She claimed that since my dog and I were a “menace” to the area it was her “duty” to see us hauled off.
Come to find out she was actually crazy and off her meds.
Image source: Eric Vernon, cottonbro studio
Anyway, facing our four-plex was another four-plex, and that was how the entire block was. I found the place because my assistant manager lived in the one across from me downstairs; we were good friends. There was a neighbor who moved in about two years after me. Well, one night me and four of my female friends (I am gay) were going to see Kid Rock. Well, as we are walking out of my unit, I hear the new neighbor call me a f****t. Normally, I would shrug it off, but I was drinking prior to leaving so I said a few choice words to him, prompting him to produce a bat as I made my way to my friend’s SUV in hysterical laughter. I informed him that he would likely be quite embarrassed if he got his a** kicked by a f****t. Well, when I got home, he had superglued my screen-door completely shut; poured hamburger helper (or something similar) into my a/c unit, scratched up my very expensive and still quite new Lexus SUV, and stole the photos from my Facebook page, superimposed it onto a Meagan’s Law predator page, and littered my entire neighborhood up with this poster saying I was a p***phile and whatever else the person who actually owned that profile. On the back of each flyer he posted, he stated where I worked, what time I left, what time I arrived, when I took lunch, and where I went on the weekends. It was very unusual. I ended up having to take him to court, file a restraining order against him after he showed up at my job, threatening to burn down my building, which I finally had enough and went outside to fight him; luckily my employees already had him cornered out in the parking lot. Thank God for restraining orders.
Image source: Ben Longden, Lisa Fotios
We had just bought a house in what we thought was a quiet part of town.
The neighbour opposite owned a tyre franchise.
Within a week we found out that his twin 16 year old daughters decided to have a wild party every Saturday night, with all booze supplied by him.
On any Saturday night, there would be up to 100 feral teens, with cars screaming around the place. The parties usually finished about six am.
We called the police the first couple of weeks, but gave up calling them as half the police officers were his friends…including the local police boss.
So whenever we knew a party was on, we would bundle the pets into the car and stay in a motel for the night… in another town.
Even so, the next morning the tyre guy would come screaming into the middle of the street about us ringing police…
One night, they held a surprise party, and we were trapped in our own home. The neighbourhood got trashed and we had these ferals trying to break in.. and burn the house down while we were inside.
My wife at the time had an axe in her hands and when they realised she was more than willing to remove limbs, they backed away.
Police arrived as the delightful neighbour wss in the middle of the street screaming death threats.
Victoria police as usual were useless, calling him by his nickname and trying to get him back in the house.
As usual police asked us what did we do to start him off.
A few days later we found out he was having a birthday party at home…
We went to a motel, and came back the next day to a firebombed neighbourhood. Trees had bern set on fire, houses attempted to be torched .. we found the remains of a firebomb in the backyard - all launched by the neighbour.
I was out the front chatting to a bail justice whrn police drive past. He stopped the cops and told them to do their bloody job, or they could lose his services. Thry knovked on his door and asked him if it was possible for him to cleanup the rubbish in thr Street. He said no.
We later found a firebomb in the front yard and took it in to police and the desk cop just threw it in the bin.
We asked to see the station commander, who judt asked us what did we do to start it all.
The next day I lodged a formal complaint with the police department with senior police.
We sold the house and moved across town to a nicer area.
After a year, they moved to a small town about 5km away, and interstate.
All the old neighbourhood problems stopped dead in their tracks, as the ferals lusting after the in-heat twins went and had their parties at the new venue…. And the police there were really busy…
One day one of these cops who used to ask us what did we do to set him off made a comment to me.
I let him have it. Both barrels between the eyes about police ineptitude thst cost us $200,000.
Its funny but for the next few years those officers would cross the street to avoid me.
They even would go to other hospitals to avoid me
Image source: Alan Harris, Kaboompics.com
I worked graveyard shift and my truck didn't have power steering so it took a few tries to get out. Once my clutch needed to be replaced so my buddy and I got my truck into my parent's 1 car hollow tile garage and changed it. When we were done my friend said “ we gotta uncap the headers and fire it up”. So we did and this lady came out screaming about how I had been making all kinds of noise with my cars for 3 years. I had only had a car for 1 and 1/2 years so I let loose on her. She said she needed peace and quiet. I told her I worked graveyard and every F'n day she played the same damn song on her piano and made the same mistake every time. After that she always parked in front of my truck in front of her driveway. One day I called the cops. She argued that it was her driveway so she could park there but they told her the law says you cannot block a driveway period. Nobody on our street liked her.
Image source: Fredda Scobey, Mh mídia Conteúdos Digitais
One fall a section of my wooden privacy fence fell down into their yard. We managed to wrestle it back into my yard, but I needed to find someone who could reinstall it in concrete before the ground froze. I couldn't find anyone to do the task so asked a friend knowledgeable about construction, if he could find someone and added that I was happy to pay.
Imagine my delight when I returned from work one day to find a small group of Latinos in the yard installing the fence. My fence had become a training session for a group of student carpenters.
Image source: Plumb, MART PRODUCTION
As a single woman, living alone, I always saw neighbors as a potential useful resource: if I fell down the stairs or was attacked, I would hope that they would hear my distress through the wall and at least call someone, so I bent over backwards to be as friendly and neighbourly as possible.
Most of my neighbors were lovely in return-but the next door neighbor on one side was unremittingly hostile, superior and dominating. I never mentioned this to any of the other neighbors, because I believed that the man-an elderly fellow with an equally hostile-looking wife, actually was trying to start a feud with me and gossiping about him locally may have set that off. I decided that I was going to dominate him in my own way. I was going to be in control of our relationship, and we were going to get on just fine.
If I were to write a list of all his pettiness and bullying, I would be here all day: but I will give one example to give a taste. I’m quite a green person, so I went to the trouble and expense to get a system whereby I could use ‘grey water’ (pre-used water from my house) in a little white hosepipe to water my garden (which I loved). One year there was a drought and the water company told us that we were not allowed to use mains water via hosepipes to water our gardens. I continued to use the water from my ‘grey supply’ via the thin white pipe (quite distinct from a garden hose-pipe) which had already been used for washing, was going to be wasted otherwise.
When my neighbor spotted me using the grey water, he told me that the bylaw was against using hosepipes-not specifically mains water. He had taken the trouble to look up the exact details of the law. This meant that he could report me-and I could face a fine.
I looked him in the eye and asked if he would really report me for using water that would otherwise go down the drain-in order to keep my beloved garden alive during the long drought. He looked back delighted and triumphant. “Yes, of course .” He said. It was hard not to wonder what I had done to have targeted his attention on me in this way. It was before the internet, so he had gone to some bother with his research.
I could only do what I always did with him: deprive him of the victory he sought from my starting a feud with him. I smiled and told him that he was right-and I was grateful for his advice. I put the hosepipe by the house, and took up the watering can -which I filled with the grey water. He watched me over the wall as I daily toiled up and down my steep garden, back and forth with my watering can.
I lived next to him in this way for 20 years, and eventually found out later what it was that I had done to incur his wrath: neighbors who had known him for longer than I told me that he was a bully with all women. However, I never allowed him to bully me, and I NEVER fell out with him. From his stony face and gritted teeth, I could tell that my cheery wave and (hypocritical) smile over the garden wall irritated him almost to distraction.
Apparently, he had a daughter somewhere that he hadn’t seen for 30 years. Ironically, when he was a lonely old widower, it was I who heard his cries of distress through the wall and called an ambulance when he’d had a fall.
Sadly, his daughter didn’t even turn up to his funeral.
Image source: Carrie Cutler, RDNE Stock project
One Saturday night, I had a few people over. We were sitting on my porch, drinking quietly, at around two am. The night was relatively quiet and cool, which made the shriek from a few doors down that much more startling.
The mother ducked out of her house, toddler on her hip, and spotting us drinking, handed us the toddler and ran back to her apartment, screaming the whole way. The poor toddler looked at all of us, her thumb in her mouth.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with her,” said one of my friends.
“Hell if I know,” I said.
We ended up passing her from woman to woman, rocking her and petting her. It took her mother a good two hours to finish fighting with her partner, by which time the toddler had gone to sleep with a little sigh on one of the women with us.
I didn’t actually want to let her go. I really just wanted to take the toddler inside with me, find her a bed, and let her grow up somewhere quiet(er.)
A few months later, the same mother ended up following her man down the street screaming at him, the toddler following along behind them without anyone paying attention to her. I actually ran out of my apartment in my pajamas, tugging my shoes on, while on the phone with 911, to try and catch the toddler before she toddled out onto the main street nearest us, with a speed limit of 45 mph.
Fastest police response I’ve ever seen. I didn’t clear the first block after the baby before three cruisers pulled up.
I really just wanted to take her toddler from her the whole time—I’m not the best parent ever, but goddamn that woman made me wish for the ability to just adopt a kid at will.
Out of all the crappy neighbors I ever had, that couple bothered me the most.
Image source: Cindy Kaplan
She's got a huge thing about parking. Sits and watches for infractions and threatens to have cars towed as if some tow truck company is waiting for her to call and tow on private property. She has no job. This is part of her “work". She watches things go on here like a deranged hawk.
I had guests at my condo for the Jewish mourning ritual (Shiva) of my son. Visitors come, the door is unlocked, they do not ring the bell (it is covered) and everyone wanting to visit can come to pay respects.
They bring food and drink. They sit, visit, eat, chat and console. They keep life buoyant as we are sinking. Or in my case they kept me grounded as I was floating away somewhere. Simply by being present. In my home they keep the grievers occupied until it's time to go home.
Before the events, my nice neighbor, Mary put out an email before for all neighbors to be patient and generous to a possible parking mistakes wherever and when ever for two nights 4-8 pm. EVERYONE HERE HAS A GARAGE. We are talking about designated guest spots. We have general guest spots as well.
Marina answered the email: I have a better idea. Why doesn’t Cindy just tell her guests where to park? In a group email back!
Well, does anybody know who exactly will come to a Shiva, a wake, a memorial? And would that be something a grieving mother and her insiders would really want to or be able to spend time on during the visiting hours? Ever? No.
So…this MARINA, who is the resident nightmare and parking Nazi, Czar, Witch of this end of the condo units… who is typically the never-ending, loud-mouth, badgering bully at every open condo association meeting…
She puts these notes on all of the cars of the mourners and people paying respects who were improperly parked. (Parking is complicated and sparse; believe me I did my best)
After knowing I've suffered an unspeakable loss:
Leaves:
This, as an real life example. We don’t know how many other notes she left.
#11 When I was 24, myself and my 20 month old son moved into a 3 bedroom private rented property. The neighbours all seemed a bit reserved so I hadn't really met any of them, but I thought nothing of it and we went about our daily lives, me working and volunteering for a local charity and my son going to nursery.
Image source: Charlotte Clark, Tuan PM
4 months later, on the August Bank Holiday Sunday, I put my son to bed. He was a terrible sleeper and would tantrum like nothing you'd ever seen before, but as advised by the Health Visitor, I would stand my ground and let him cry it out, checking on him silently every few minutes until he gave up and fell to sleep.
This particular evening it was 7pm when I put him to bed and shortly after, while he was crying and screaming, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to be confronted by a man telling me he was my neighbour and that he worked for Social Services. He said my son had been crying and screaming since 6am and he wanted to come in and check he was OK. I didn't recognise him and along with the fact I volunteered supporting families with Social Care involvement, knew that my son would only cry and scream even longer if anyone was to go up and see him. That morning had also been the first time in weeks my son had slept in til later than 7am and we hadn't been home all day.
I refused, telling the man to come back tomorrow with the police and went inside. I sobbed at the thought anyone would think I would harm my son and rang my cousin. She told me Social Services wouldn't turn up like that without ID and would have police with them if they wanted to come in. So I called 101 and a police officer arrived within minutes. They believed this man would have been watching my house, knowing I was a young single mum and would have used the opportunity to burgle my house or harm me and my son.
For weeks I was scared to leave the house. I set up a Facebook group warning other parents of this situation, knowing that others may not have turned him away. The local newspaper then got in touch and ran the story front page.
A couple of days later a policeman arrived to tell me that the man had contacted them. He was indeed a neighbour but didn't work for Social Services so he was given a warning. However, he did teach Social Work at the local University so should have known better! They told me he told them my son “would end up like Baby P” (for those who don't know, Baby P was a toddler who was abused by his mum and stepdad until he died). He also said he would be saying “I told you so” when this happened.
They couldn't tell me which house he lived in but reassured me they knew I was doing nothing to harm my son and he had been told to stay away from me.
Another month on from this, so probably 3 months after the incident, I saw him staring at my house from his garden. My garden backed onto his. It wasn't long after that that I met a few of my other neighbours and got to know them. Turned out he told everyone in the area that I was abusing my son, and it wasn't until they saw for themselves that he was happy and healthy that they began saying hello and getting to know me.
To target a young, first time, single mother like that is atrocious. I moved out 2 years later once I felt I couldn't even sit in my garden without him watching us.
My son is now almost 13, taller than me and such a respectful and well behaved young man. His little sister is almost 10, sassy, clever and has Autism. Her tantrums are much worse than his ever were. But my neighbours here are all lovely and understanding thank goodness!!
Image source: Rich Williams, cottonbro studio
When we had special moments, humorous or romantic, she would bang on the floor with a broomstick, and she once called us when we weren’t in a position to answer the phone to leave a message that she knew what we were doing and we’d better stop. We had previously given her a little picture frame for Christmas as a neighbor gift, which she returned.
She then called the Secret Service to tell them we were stealing her mail and hiding under her apartment floorboards using laser listening devices to hear her conversations. She would watch me leave for work every night behind a curtain her head would peak through, then quickly disappear. Some well-dressed professionals came over one night, and we thought the secret service was coming back to interview us. It was the city’s mental health division, and they took her away for a few days.
We’d been in contact with our landlord, who was hearing wild stories from this neighbor, and once the mental health team took her away, he agreed to secretly move us out of our apartment, return our deposit, and pay for the movers. He admitted the whole time he didn’t know who to believe. She’d had a quiet existence until a series of medical and career events I won’t discuss led to her breakdown. He contacted us a few months later and told us she had straightened out and wanted to apologize for the horror she put us through. We politely declined: The damage was done.
*I’ve added an additional comment below with a few other incidents. This story is as true as I can remember. Our neighbors, my parents, our landlord, and her coworkers can confirm these stories.
Image source: Eddie Monaghan, Crypto Crow
He stomped everywhere, every step he took we could follow.
He yelled- a lot
He liked to come down and act threatening when we disciplined our young kids - such as scolding them for flushing something expensive down the toilet…
He stared at everyone when he left the apartment or returned from work
He threatened kids
** On the UP side… with his patrol car parked out front, we had THE SAFEST building to live in!!
When he and his family moved out, EVERYONE had a collective sigh of relief. His moving actually caused ALL of us to, for once, have something to do with our neighbors. His leaving brought us all together, for a while.
I don't think all cops are like him, but he made everyone feel like a criminal. I know kids would feel like criminals just for having a popcicle… he just stare them down, until they ran inside crying
Image source: Cynthia White, Mushtaq Hussain
With one exception I had terrible neighbors.
Neighbor #1:
On one side of me was a family with three teenagers about 10 years older than my kids. When the parents went away, the kids had parties. No problem. I don’t give a rat’s a** what other people do. I care about what happens in my house.
There was just one problem. The neighbor’s deck was up against my side fence. When the kids had parties, the guests would throw their garbage over the fence. Beer cans, glass bottles, and other assorted crap. What really made me mad (it’s hard to make me mad; you really have to work at it, but once I’m mad, I can stay mad forever) was that I always had dogs, and I didn’t want my dogs cutting their feet on broken glass.
The first time it happened, I did nothing. The second time it happened, I waited until Monday, when I knew the parents were home, and I took over a garbage bag of their garbage which had been tossed over our shared fence into my yard. I told the parents that I didn’t know if they knew that their kids were having parties when they were away, and I frankly didn’t care, but I did not want their guests’ garbage in my yard including broken glass which was a hazard for my children and my pets. They just stood there open-mouthed.
The third and fourth time it happened the next day I just threw everything back over the fence. It didn’t happen again after that.
Neighbor #2:
On my other side, I had another winner.
One Saturday night when my kids were elementary-school-aged, and I was a single mom, we had a freak snowstorm in May late at night. A Y-shaped apple tree of mine fully leafed out split in two at about midnight, and half of it fell across the fence into the neighbor’s yard.
At 8 O’clock the next morning (Sunday) the neighbor rings the bell.
“What are you going to do about the tree in my yard?” he says.
“The tree fell around midnight,” I told him. “I need at least a day or two to get it cleaned up including getting a friend with a chainsaw over,” I told him.
I managed to get a friend over that afternoon, and we got it cleaned up and at least the mess was in my yard instead of the neighbor’s, and the fence was fixed. It took another week to get it all cleaned up, and that mishap eventually killed the tree, sadly.
That neighbor also rang my bell once again a few months later and showed me a cigarette butt that he found on his property. (I smoke, but I’m an extremely neat and polite smoker.)
“Not my brand,” I smiled at him. “Sorry. It didn’t come from me. I can’t help you,” and I shut the door.
I never spoke to them again after that. Did that guy seriously think I would drop cigarette butts on his lawn?
Image source: Michael J. McFadden, Rosemary Ketchum
They were squatters in the abandoned building adjoining my duplex row home. They were a bit shady, but I live in a rather low-rent area in general, and since the house was abandoned for 20 years I’d had more than the average share of shady neighbors.
In any event, the one guy I knew by name knocked on my door one day and said they were leaving but they were going to lock the place up nice and tight so I wouldn’t have to worry about less reputable squatters moving in.
Nice, eh?
About three years go by and I get a knock on my door, and it’s a group of nice Quakerly non-violence activist types looking for a squat and to be polite they thought they should ask me if I’d mind. They seemed pretty trustworthy and were working for good causes etc, so I promised I wouldn’t raise a stink if I heard them opening the place up. So early the next morning I heard them opening the back door and then banging around and moving furniture blockades and stuff inside the house.
Suddenly there were startled yelling sounds and footsteps running around and out the back door. I figured they’d seen a giant possum or something and just went back to sleep.
A bit later I hear a loud knocking on my door and find a half dozen cops running around outside. Evidently the squatters who had locked the place up three years earlier had left something behind: An overdosed body on their living-room couch… which was, after three years, no longer in very good condition.
I’d say those earlier squatters certainly qualified as the worst neighbors *I* ever had! LOL!
Image source: Cynthia White, Anete Lusina
At that time, my then-husband had a small fix-it business. So, the neighbor asked if my husband would fix a few things there. After a long debate between me and my husband, he agreed that he’d do the work and only charge them what it cost him in materials but wouldn’t charge any labor. He was very reluctant to do it.
So, he went over and discussed it with him. He’d charge him the cost of materials, period. They had a deck that was structurally sound but needed new deck boards and two fence gates that didn’t work and needed new hardware. And one or two other small things.
So, he fixed everything one Saturday, and the next day, Sunday, he took them the receipts for materials and asked to be paid about $120. They looked at him like he had three heads, paid him the money in cash, and never spoke to us again. Seriously. If they saw us, they walked the other way. It was very obvious. I have no idea why. It never made any sense to me. Did they think we wouldn’t charge them for materials when we said we would and they agreed?
I always thought they might be in witness protection. They didn’t appear either of them to work, and they had hardly any furniture in a pretty big (2500 sq. ft) house. I always thought I’d see them on an episode of America’s Most Wanted. But I never did. They were still there when I left 10 years later.
Image source: Sam Humphreys, Charles Parker
The people who lived downstairs from us did not work. They slept all day and partied all night. Eventually we learned to sort of sleep through the screamingly loud music and other party noise; the cars coming and going, beeping their hellos and goodbyes, front door constantly opening and slamming shut, laughter, yelling and as the night went by, screaming arguments and fights in the parking lot. Every morning we went out and picked up the bottles and cans, cigarette and joint butts, used condoms and worse left in front of our apartment.
Other than a few attempts at requesting that they “keep it down” which was utterly ignored and a couple of calls in the middle of the night to the police with the same request which was also ignored, we realized that resistance was futile and we stopped complaining about it.
After about a year, I inherited a piano from my grandmother. An ugly old upright with the most beautiful sound and a fabulous touch. I was a classically trained pianist but at that point in my life I could barely afford my rent, a piano was out of the question so this was a huge deal to me. Once it was moved into the apartment I couldn't wait to play, my fingers twitched with eagerness. The instant the movers left, I sat down and Hayden sonatas just poured out of me. About 15 minutes in, there is a banging on the floor. Entranced with what I was doing, I ignored it. More banging on the floor. Over and over. One of the kids brought it to my attention. Laughing, I said that at that moment, I just didn't care. They laughed with me and I played on.
After about 30 minutes, the doorbell rang. One of the kids answered the door then called for me. I went to the door. It was the husband of the downstairs neighbors and he is seething with anger, didn't I realize that they were trying to sleep? On and on he went about how rude and inconsiderate I was. I said nothing. He ranted and raved threatened and swore. I still said nothing. He finished with this sentence, “we wouldn't mind so much if it was good music”
Whereupon, I closed the door. Latched it and turned the key, went back to my piano and resumed. This time, Rachmaninov.
Image source: Janet Hempkin, Alena Darmel
When my husband and I first got together we bought a house in an area called the beach. It was an old wreck but still expensive so we worked on it ourselves and slowly made progress. After five years we got married, had the second and third floors finished and I was expecting a baby. We were both working so hard just to pay the mortgage but my husband was even working nights as a waiter because it was time for me to quit. As I was 8 months pregnant we decided to rent the upstairs. Oh boy, big mistake.
We interviewed a few people and decided on this really sweet girl. She said she worked evenings and was home during the day, led a quiet life and I actually thought we might end up hanging out together a bit. Well, as it turned out she worked nights alright…I’m pretty sure she was a hooker and she brought the party home with her. Every night.
Things came to a head one night when I knocked on her door and asked her to please keep it down (the baby was due any day) and she called me ever name in the book and laughed in my face. My husband came home shortly afterwards and there was a bit of a brawl with her guests. It just killed me that I couldn't roll up my sleeves and get right in there too.
My husband is a man who takes care of business. So this sweet girl came home late the following night ready to rock and roll only to find all of her possessions on the front lawn and the locks changed. She called her scuzzy friends for help and we never saw her again.
I know there are laws, and she could have relaliated but believe me my husband can intimidate the devil himself. He didn't like someone messing with his pregnant wife.
Image source: Barbara Vines, Sarah Chai
I was friendly with my former next-door neighbors. We both gardened, and would swap produce back and forth. Sometimes in person, sometimes by leaving on each other’s porches. I made the mistake of trying to continue this tradition with my new neighbors. They had a table on their back deck, within an arm’s reach from the lawn. I reached between the fence boards and placed several cucumbers, a few zucchini, peppers, and a bag of green beans on the table.
A day or so later, I noticed that they had moved the table further from the fence, so it was unreachable from the round. The vegetables were still there, untouched. They remained there for several days, untouched. It almost seemed as though they were afraid they were a curse of some sort.
Well I learned from my fail, and started knocking on neighbors’ doors before gifting them with garden surplus. Some accepted them enthusiastically, others just have a ‘oh, whatever, thanks’ reaction.
Image source: Kate Scott, Nataliya Vaitkevich
We had a cat named Donovan and a neighbor lady named ‘Susan’. She was single, in her 50’s, had a huge beautiful garden and seemed rather nice.
One summer, we were going on vacation for a week. We asked if she would look after the cat while we were gone. She enthusiastically said yes, and offered to have our cat stay at her house so it wouldn’t get bored/lonely.
How sweet of her!
We left on vacation, and had a grand old time.
When we got back from vacation, my mom went to pick up our cat and….
that’s when the crazy started.
The woman was bawling her eyes out as she handed our cat back.
Full on weeping. After knowing it for a week.
She kept saying “Goodbye Kitty! Bye my Donovan, momma’s gonna miss you!”
My mom was a bit freaked out, but she thanked her, paid her and came home.
A few days later, I had woken up around 8 AM and was peering out my window when I saw a shape moving in the fog, coming towards our back door.
It was the neighbor lady, walking across the full acre that separated our houses.
She was wearing her nightgown and curlers still.
I was trying to figure out if maybe she needed help or was hurt or something, when I heard knocking on the back door and the woman saying “Here kitty kitty!!”
I walked to the back door and opened it and she said, “I’m so sorry! I just need to see my baby! Where’s my baby?!”
I was very confused and asked her if everything was ok, or if she needed help.
She didn’t answer me, she just started calling out- into my house!- “Donovan! Here kitty kitty! Where’s my little boy?”
When the cat sauntered over, she was elated. I picked up MY cat, and let her pet him for a minute before saying “I think you should go, I have chores to do.”
When my parents came home, I told them about it and they said to ignore her if it happened again. It was all very, very strange.
Then, one day, we had let our cat out for a while (it was an indoor/outdoor cat) and when we called him to come in, he didn’t come. We checked all the places he usually lounged, and he was nowhere to be found. We searched for hours.
Finally, after a day of searching, my dad said, “Oh my god. Susan! Could she…?”
My parents quickly went over there to ask if she had seen the cat, and Susan vehemently denied knowing anything about where our cat was.
She was visibly angry about being asked, and then offered up “What do you think? That I stole him?!”
(Nobody had accused her of anything at this point, by the way.
He just said, “Hey have you seen our black cat, Donovan, anywhere today?”)
Then my mom started calling his name and whistling for him and before Susan could get the door slammed, he strolled to the door from somewhere inside the house and greeted my mom with a “Meow?”
My mom was PISSED. She started yelling about “If you ever steal our cat again…!” and “I ought to call the police!” and left.
He was an indoor cat for the next few months, until we moved again.
Image source: Cynthia White, Thirdman
While I was still living in the same house, they moved across town.
A few months later, the wife calls me and asks if I’ll come over (across town.) She says she’s leaving her husband, and in fact, he’s been beating her all these years, and she’d like me to help her tell her now-adult children because I’ve known them since they were small. (I didn’t know she considered me such a close friend?!) Of course, I went to help, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream.” W.S. Gilbert from H.M.S. Pinafore.
Image source: Lacy Windham, RF._.studio
I have an elderly neighbor. She has a cute little white dog, but that little dog never leaves the confines of her yard and house, because the lady doesn’t either.
I’ve lived in my house for about four years. During that time every interaction I’ve had with this woman has been vaguely or even outright unpleasant.
I’ve chalked this up to many things. Maybe she’s a widow. Maybe her friends and family never visit her. Maybe she is super lonely and that’s why she’s so sour.
A few months ago I ended with a little rescue dog of my own.
One Saturday morning I decided that my youngest child and I would try to be good neighbors, and go ask this woman if she would like us to take her dog with us while we walked around the block. I thought it would be a nice learning opportunity for my daughter (helping others and community and what not).
As we made our way across her yard toward her dog barking unhappily from the confines of the house, my dog decided to pee in her yard.
“KEEP YOUR DOG FROM USING THE BATHROOM ON MY PROPERTY!!!!” she bellowed from within the house.
I looked with some disbelief at her yard which was literally coated with her own dog’s feces.
She continued to yell at me out about my dog having peed.
My daughter and I turned around and continued on our walk alone.
It ended up being a good learning opportunity for my daughter…and for me.
Some people just aren’t terribly nice.
#1 I moved next door to a guy called Dave. He lived alone with his 4 rescue dogs.
Image source: Kelley Spartiatis, Nataliya Vaitkevich
Dave was very welcoming. He knocked to my house the day we moved in and gave me a bottle of wine as a gift and introduced himself. I liked Dave from that moment.
Dave had disabilities so had a disabled car speck outside of his house. The parking in that street was a nightmare and had a huge impact on our decision to move. I will get to why this is important soon.
There was an old couple called Mr and Mrs Love (how cute?) Lovely old dears. They stopped to say hi one day whilst I was painting my front wall. Mrs Love told me to be careful of Dave. Apparently he was an awful man who complains and fights with all the neighbors. He would call the police for no good reason and he was cruel to his dogs.
Ok, Wow!
The woman across the street told me he was a p***phile who took videos from his bedroom of kids playing.
Another told me he called child protection on them for abusing their kids.
He shot next door but one’s cat with a pellet gun because it was in his garden, one of them said.
So, Dave was not a popular chap!
I'm not one for gossip but it's hard not to be wary when all your neighbors are telling you that the antichrist is living next door.
When my dog had puppies, Dave gave me his number and told me to call him any time, day or night, if I needed help. He was slightly deaf and didn't always hear the door bell.
Dave let me use the shared entry that was also his to store some things that I had no space for.
Dave fed my cat when I went away.
Dave never complained when my teenage son and his friends were rowdy.
Dave told me he was leaving his home to the Dogs Trust upon his death, in return for them to take his dogs and rehome them.
Dave looked after my dogs when I was going through something and wasn't home a lot. He never pried. He just supported me by being there.
Dave cried when I gave him a Christmas card. He never had one before from a neighbor.
Dave helped me move to my new house which wasn't far away, by bringing bits around that I forgot when the movers came.
The parking spot was the reason that the neighbors started a witch hunt for Dave. They said he scammed the council and wasn't really ill. Dave got something that they wanted. They didn't like it. Dave had cancer by the way. Nobody cared to ask. It was easier to start a hate campaign. It took one neighbor to tell an exaggerated story and begin the snowball effect that had Dave labelled as a pariah.
I still see Dave.
The other neighbors, I walk past them if I see them around. All of them are the worst neighbors I ever had.
I hope the couple who moved in to my house appreciate how lucky they are to have Dave next door.
#2 Well I've had two. One was notorious for calling the cops on me for whatever reason. Yeah, after about the fifth time he stopped. He still tried hassling me from time to time.
Image source: Theresa Ashley, Kindel Media
The second neighbor I really didn't know her, but it doesn't mean she wasn't horrible towards me.
I had a German Shepherd/Lab mix named Moose. This dog was not only smart but well behaved. We trained to be a Search and Rescue team. In 2010 we went to Haiti after the earthquake. That spring and summer I was still dealing with issues from that myself. I began to ride my bike as part of my therapy. I would typically ride between 30 and 60 miles at least once a week.
This lady would stare at me as I rode past her house. Whatever, then when I would return she would do the same. She never said anything. I would wave but she wouldn't wave back.
When my garden EXPLODED with fruits and vegetables, I would give them away to my neighbors. I even would offer some to the guy who called the cops on me.
So I loaded up my car and drove to this lady’s house. I knocked on the door and as I opened my mouth to ask if she wanted some fruits and vegetables, she began accusing me of “casing” her house. I finally explained that I came by to offer her some fruits and vegetables from my garden. She screamed “No Solicitations” and slammed the door in my face. I went home and was loading up some more to take to my food pantry when a deputy came to my house.
The deputy told me in laughter to quit “casing” her house and then asked if he could get some tomatoes. I let him get what he wanted and we left.
That weekend I noticed a new family move in next door to me. I took a box of what I grew over and with Moose I introduced ourselves. I offered to help and they graciously declined and thanked me for what I brought. About an hour later I get a phone call from the Sheriff's office. I get a report of three kids missing and possibly in a corn field. The address was next door and it was my new neighbors' two kids and a friend of theirs. I grab my vest and Moose's leash and after getting a scent we take off into the field. At a jog we managed to find the three boys and instead of walking back the way we came, I decided to walk out of the field to the closest road.
As we exited the field we ended up in crazy lady's yard. I realized I forgot my phone, so I figured depending on where we were at we would either walk home, or I would ask someone to call the dispatcher and let them know where we were.
I didn't need to ask because crazy lady had called 911 and reported an adult, three kids, and a vicious dog attempting to break in her house.
I guess the dispatcher said that she would send somebody because she hung up the phone. She stood there gloating that she would see us go to prison for the rest of our lives.
The same Sheriff's Deputy who had told me to stop “casing” her house pulls up along with an SUV with the parents. Parents run up and hug the kids. They leave and the lady begins to lose her mind. The deputy asked if I wanted a ride home and I said yes. Crazy lady went off on the deputy for not arresting me and also for not confiscating Moose.
The deputy looked at her and said since we were performing duties in which we were considered essential for the life and safety of others, he legally could not arrest us for trespassing.
A few days later a detective came by to investigate a complaint the lady made about that incident. As we talked I heard a car door slam and then I noticed the “crazy lady” in my back yard with a plastic bag. The detective went out to confront her and in the bag was a bunch of dead wild birds.
During the course of the investigation it was discovered she had poisoned these birds and she collected them and froze them.
She claimed that since my dog and I were a “menace” to the area it was her “duty” to see us hauled off.
Come to find out she was actually crazy and off her meds.
#3 I had moved into a four-plex with my immediate neighbors being elderly. The place was called “the retirement home” because all three of them were original tenants in the early 70’s.
Image source: Eric Vernon, cottonbro studio
Anyway, facing our four-plex was another four-plex, and that was how the entire block was. I found the place because my assistant manager lived in the one across from me downstairs; we were good friends. There was a neighbor who moved in about two years after me. Well, one night me and four of my female friends (I am gay) were going to see Kid Rock. Well, as we are walking out of my unit, I hear the new neighbor call me a f****t. Normally, I would shrug it off, but I was drinking prior to leaving so I said a few choice words to him, prompting him to produce a bat as I made my way to my friend’s SUV in hysterical laughter. I informed him that he would likely be quite embarrassed if he got his a** kicked by a f****t. Well, when I got home, he had superglued my screen-door completely shut; poured hamburger helper (or something similar) into my a/c unit, scratched up my very expensive and still quite new Lexus SUV, and stole the photos from my Facebook page, superimposed it onto a Meagan’s Law predator page, and littered my entire neighborhood up with this poster saying I was a p***phile and whatever else the person who actually owned that profile. On the back of each flyer he posted, he stated where I worked, what time I left, what time I arrived, when I took lunch, and where I went on the weekends. It was very unusual. I ended up having to take him to court, file a restraining order against him after he showed up at my job, threatening to burn down my building, which I finally had enough and went outside to fight him; luckily my employees already had him cornered out in the parking lot. Thank God for restraining orders.
#4 About 25 years ago I worked in a small country town, in the middle of nowhere, 250km from Melbourne.
Image source: Ben Longden, Lisa Fotios
We had just bought a house in what we thought was a quiet part of town.
The neighbour opposite owned a tyre franchise.
Within a week we found out that his twin 16 year old daughters decided to have a wild party every Saturday night, with all booze supplied by him.
On any Saturday night, there would be up to 100 feral teens, with cars screaming around the place. The parties usually finished about six am.
We called the police the first couple of weeks, but gave up calling them as half the police officers were his friends…including the local police boss.
So whenever we knew a party was on, we would bundle the pets into the car and stay in a motel for the night… in another town.
Even so, the next morning the tyre guy would come screaming into the middle of the street about us ringing police…
One night, they held a surprise party, and we were trapped in our own home. The neighbourhood got trashed and we had these ferals trying to break in.. and burn the house down while we were inside.
My wife at the time had an axe in her hands and when they realised she was more than willing to remove limbs, they backed away.
Police arrived as the delightful neighbour wss in the middle of the street screaming death threats.
Victoria police as usual were useless, calling him by his nickname and trying to get him back in the house.
As usual police asked us what did we do to start him off.
A few days later we found out he was having a birthday party at home…
We went to a motel, and came back the next day to a firebombed neighbourhood. Trees had bern set on fire, houses attempted to be torched .. we found the remains of a firebomb in the backyard - all launched by the neighbour.
I was out the front chatting to a bail justice whrn police drive past. He stopped the cops and told them to do their bloody job, or they could lose his services. Thry knovked on his door and asked him if it was possible for him to cleanup the rubbish in thr Street. He said no.
We later found a firebomb in the front yard and took it in to police and the desk cop just threw it in the bin.
We asked to see the station commander, who judt asked us what did we do to start it all.
The next day I lodged a formal complaint with the police department with senior police.
We sold the house and moved across town to a nicer area.
After a year, they moved to a small town about 5km away, and interstate.
All the old neighbourhood problems stopped dead in their tracks, as the ferals lusting after the in-heat twins went and had their parties at the new venue…. And the police there were really busy…
One day one of these cops who used to ask us what did we do to set him off made a comment to me.
I let him have it. Both barrels between the eyes about police ineptitude thst cost us $200,000.
Its funny but for the next few years those officers would cross the street to avoid me.
They even would go to other hospitals to avoid me
#5 When I was 19 this lady lived across from my parent's house where 7 years earlier my best friends lived. She used to block my truck in by parking in front her driveway.
Image source: Alan Harris, Kaboompics.com
I worked graveyard shift and my truck didn't have power steering so it took a few tries to get out. Once my clutch needed to be replaced so my buddy and I got my truck into my parent's 1 car hollow tile garage and changed it. When we were done my friend said “ we gotta uncap the headers and fire it up”. So we did and this lady came out screaming about how I had been making all kinds of noise with my cars for 3 years. I had only had a car for 1 and 1/2 years so I let loose on her. She said she needed peace and quiet. I told her I worked graveyard and every F'n day she played the same damn song on her piano and made the same mistake every time. After that she always parked in front of my truck in front of her driveway. One day I called the cops. She argued that it was her driveway so she could park there but they told her the law says you cannot block a driveway period. Nobody on our street liked her.
#6 My horrible. racist neighbors are unforgettable. Though I seldom spoke to them, somehow when we spoke they found ways to talk about their disdain for Mexican immigrants. For example: they couldn't go to a popular grocery "because of the Mexicans." Trust me, I wasn't mentioning Mexicans or any other race to them. Very odd.
Image source: Fredda Scobey, Mh mídia Conteúdos Digitais
One fall a section of my wooden privacy fence fell down into their yard. We managed to wrestle it back into my yard, but I needed to find someone who could reinstall it in concrete before the ground froze. I couldn't find anyone to do the task so asked a friend knowledgeable about construction, if he could find someone and added that I was happy to pay.
Imagine my delight when I returned from work one day to find a small group of Latinos in the yard installing the fence. My fence had become a training session for a group of student carpenters.
#7 I don’t know whether it was actually rude: rather, it was petty.
Image source: Plumb, MART PRODUCTION
As a single woman, living alone, I always saw neighbors as a potential useful resource: if I fell down the stairs or was attacked, I would hope that they would hear my distress through the wall and at least call someone, so I bent over backwards to be as friendly and neighbourly as possible.
Most of my neighbors were lovely in return-but the next door neighbor on one side was unremittingly hostile, superior and dominating. I never mentioned this to any of the other neighbors, because I believed that the man-an elderly fellow with an equally hostile-looking wife, actually was trying to start a feud with me and gossiping about him locally may have set that off. I decided that I was going to dominate him in my own way. I was going to be in control of our relationship, and we were going to get on just fine.
If I were to write a list of all his pettiness and bullying, I would be here all day: but I will give one example to give a taste. I’m quite a green person, so I went to the trouble and expense to get a system whereby I could use ‘grey water’ (pre-used water from my house) in a little white hosepipe to water my garden (which I loved). One year there was a drought and the water company told us that we were not allowed to use mains water via hosepipes to water our gardens. I continued to use the water from my ‘grey supply’ via the thin white pipe (quite distinct from a garden hose-pipe) which had already been used for washing, was going to be wasted otherwise.
When my neighbor spotted me using the grey water, he told me that the bylaw was against using hosepipes-not specifically mains water. He had taken the trouble to look up the exact details of the law. This meant that he could report me-and I could face a fine.
I looked him in the eye and asked if he would really report me for using water that would otherwise go down the drain-in order to keep my beloved garden alive during the long drought. He looked back delighted and triumphant. “Yes, of course .” He said. It was hard not to wonder what I had done to have targeted his attention on me in this way. It was before the internet, so he had gone to some bother with his research.
I could only do what I always did with him: deprive him of the victory he sought from my starting a feud with him. I smiled and told him that he was right-and I was grateful for his advice. I put the hosepipe by the house, and took up the watering can -which I filled with the grey water. He watched me over the wall as I daily toiled up and down my steep garden, back and forth with my watering can.
I lived next to him in this way for 20 years, and eventually found out later what it was that I had done to incur his wrath: neighbors who had known him for longer than I told me that he was a bully with all women. However, I never allowed him to bully me, and I NEVER fell out with him. From his stony face and gritted teeth, I could tell that my cheery wave and (hypocritical) smile over the garden wall irritated him almost to distraction.
Apparently, he had a daughter somewhere that he hadn’t seen for 30 years. Ironically, when he was a lonely old widower, it was I who heard his cries of distress through the wall and called an ambulance when he’d had a fall.
Sadly, his daughter didn’t even turn up to his funeral.
#8 I’ve had a ton of worst neighbors, but the one that sticks out the most was a couple in their late teens/early twenties that used to live a few doors down from me. They argued, almost literally all the time: huge, screaming, drawn-out fights in front of their adorable toddler, who never made so much as a peep (though it would have been hard to hear her over the screaming.)
Image source: Carrie Cutler, RDNE Stock project
One Saturday night, I had a few people over. We were sitting on my porch, drinking quietly, at around two am. The night was relatively quiet and cool, which made the shriek from a few doors down that much more startling.
The mother ducked out of her house, toddler on her hip, and spotting us drinking, handed us the toddler and ran back to her apartment, screaming the whole way. The poor toddler looked at all of us, her thumb in her mouth.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with her,” said one of my friends.
“Hell if I know,” I said.
We ended up passing her from woman to woman, rocking her and petting her. It took her mother a good two hours to finish fighting with her partner, by which time the toddler had gone to sleep with a little sigh on one of the women with us.
I didn’t actually want to let her go. I really just wanted to take the toddler inside with me, find her a bed, and let her grow up somewhere quiet(er.)
A few months later, the same mother ended up following her man down the street screaming at him, the toddler following along behind them without anyone paying attention to her. I actually ran out of my apartment in my pajamas, tugging my shoes on, while on the phone with 911, to try and catch the toddler before she toddled out onto the main street nearest us, with a speed limit of 45 mph.
Fastest police response I’ve ever seen. I didn’t clear the first block after the baby before three cruisers pulled up.
I really just wanted to take her toddler from her the whole time—I’m not the best parent ever, but goddamn that woman made me wish for the ability to just adopt a kid at will.
Out of all the crappy neighbors I ever had, that couple bothered me the most.
#9 My neighbor Marina. Not difficult, more like evil or insane. I have to see her every day. I'd like to give her last name but someone might retaliate for me who has excess anger. So we'll leave it at that.
Image source: Cindy Kaplan
She's got a huge thing about parking. Sits and watches for infractions and threatens to have cars towed as if some tow truck company is waiting for her to call and tow on private property. She has no job. This is part of her “work". She watches things go on here like a deranged hawk.
I had guests at my condo for the Jewish mourning ritual (Shiva) of my son. Visitors come, the door is unlocked, they do not ring the bell (it is covered) and everyone wanting to visit can come to pay respects.
They bring food and drink. They sit, visit, eat, chat and console. They keep life buoyant as we are sinking. Or in my case they kept me grounded as I was floating away somewhere. Simply by being present. In my home they keep the grievers occupied until it's time to go home.
Before the events, my nice neighbor, Mary put out an email before for all neighbors to be patient and generous to a possible parking mistakes wherever and when ever for two nights 4-8 pm. EVERYONE HERE HAS A GARAGE. We are talking about designated guest spots. We have general guest spots as well.
Marina answered the email: I have a better idea. Why doesn’t Cindy just tell her guests where to park? In a group email back!
Well, does anybody know who exactly will come to a Shiva, a wake, a memorial? And would that be something a grieving mother and her insiders would really want to or be able to spend time on during the visiting hours? Ever? No.
So…this MARINA, who is the resident nightmare and parking Nazi, Czar, Witch of this end of the condo units… who is typically the never-ending, loud-mouth, badgering bully at every open condo association meeting…
She puts these notes on all of the cars of the mourners and people paying respects who were improperly parked. (Parking is complicated and sparse; believe me I did my best)
After knowing I've suffered an unspeakable loss:
Leaves:
This, as an real life example. We don’t know how many other notes she left.
#10 Still my family's neighbors to this day. It started with their adult son coming over and staring in our windows and doors when I or my sister were home alone. We called the police twice and he didn't do it again. Instead, he started coming up our driveway and dumping trash all over the driveway. Even keyed my parent's car. Finally we installed security cameras all over the property and caught him twice dumping trash and flipping the bird at the cameras.
His wacko mother saw the footage and made the excuse that her precious son was just angry and scared of the police and that we never should have called them on his behaviors. We didn't even press charges. Just simply had the police make sure they stayed away or there would be charges. About a week later, they called the police on my father, saying their TV wasn't working and it must be him messing with their satellite signal on purpose. That's when the cops warned them to cut the crap or they'd face legal trouble. Image source: Molly Winn#11 When I was 24, myself and my 20 month old son moved into a 3 bedroom private rented property. The neighbours all seemed a bit reserved so I hadn't really met any of them, but I thought nothing of it and we went about our daily lives, me working and volunteering for a local charity and my son going to nursery.
Image source: Charlotte Clark, Tuan PM
4 months later, on the August Bank Holiday Sunday, I put my son to bed. He was a terrible sleeper and would tantrum like nothing you'd ever seen before, but as advised by the Health Visitor, I would stand my ground and let him cry it out, checking on him silently every few minutes until he gave up and fell to sleep.
This particular evening it was 7pm when I put him to bed and shortly after, while he was crying and screaming, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to be confronted by a man telling me he was my neighbour and that he worked for Social Services. He said my son had been crying and screaming since 6am and he wanted to come in and check he was OK. I didn't recognise him and along with the fact I volunteered supporting families with Social Care involvement, knew that my son would only cry and scream even longer if anyone was to go up and see him. That morning had also been the first time in weeks my son had slept in til later than 7am and we hadn't been home all day.
I refused, telling the man to come back tomorrow with the police and went inside. I sobbed at the thought anyone would think I would harm my son and rang my cousin. She told me Social Services wouldn't turn up like that without ID and would have police with them if they wanted to come in. So I called 101 and a police officer arrived within minutes. They believed this man would have been watching my house, knowing I was a young single mum and would have used the opportunity to burgle my house or harm me and my son.
For weeks I was scared to leave the house. I set up a Facebook group warning other parents of this situation, knowing that others may not have turned him away. The local newspaper then got in touch and ran the story front page.
A couple of days later a policeman arrived to tell me that the man had contacted them. He was indeed a neighbour but didn't work for Social Services so he was given a warning. However, he did teach Social Work at the local University so should have known better! They told me he told them my son “would end up like Baby P” (for those who don't know, Baby P was a toddler who was abused by his mum and stepdad until he died). He also said he would be saying “I told you so” when this happened.
They couldn't tell me which house he lived in but reassured me they knew I was doing nothing to harm my son and he had been told to stay away from me.
Another month on from this, so probably 3 months after the incident, I saw him staring at my house from his garden. My garden backed onto his. It wasn't long after that that I met a few of my other neighbours and got to know them. Turned out he told everyone in the area that I was abusing my son, and it wasn't until they saw for themselves that he was happy and healthy that they began saying hello and getting to know me.
To target a young, first time, single mother like that is atrocious. I moved out 2 years later once I felt I couldn't even sit in my garden without him watching us.
My son is now almost 13, taller than me and such a respectful and well behaved young man. His little sister is almost 10, sassy, clever and has Autism. Her tantrums are much worse than his ever were. But my neighbours here are all lovely and understanding thank goodness!!
#12 We had a neighbor write us a 12-page legal page letter about how perfect a couple we were while petsitting in our living room during a vacation. She decided I was plotting to murder her next, and called my parents, the emergency number we’d given her during the vacation, at 3 am. I worked overnight at the time, so the screaming and running around above our apartment was too much for my wife, home alone. She continued running up and down the halls for a while, banging on other neighbors’ doors at all hours, telling them I was plotting against her.
Image source: Rich Williams, cottonbro studio
When we had special moments, humorous or romantic, she would bang on the floor with a broomstick, and she once called us when we weren’t in a position to answer the phone to leave a message that she knew what we were doing and we’d better stop. We had previously given her a little picture frame for Christmas as a neighbor gift, which she returned.
She then called the Secret Service to tell them we were stealing her mail and hiding under her apartment floorboards using laser listening devices to hear her conversations. She would watch me leave for work every night behind a curtain her head would peak through, then quickly disappear. Some well-dressed professionals came over one night, and we thought the secret service was coming back to interview us. It was the city’s mental health division, and they took her away for a few days.
We’d been in contact with our landlord, who was hearing wild stories from this neighbor, and once the mental health team took her away, he agreed to secretly move us out of our apartment, return our deposit, and pay for the movers. He admitted the whole time he didn’t know who to believe. She’d had a quiet existence until a series of medical and career events I won’t discuss led to her breakdown. He contacted us a few months later and told us she had straightened out and wanted to apologize for the horror she put us through. We politely declined: The damage was done.
*I’ve added an additional comment below with a few other incidents. This story is as true as I can remember. Our neighbors, my parents, our landlord, and her coworkers can confirm these stories.
#13 The WORST neighbor I ever had was a COP! He was a State Trooper that lived up stairs with his family in these apartments we lived in.
Image source: Eddie Monaghan, Crypto Crow
He stomped everywhere, every step he took we could follow.
He yelled- a lot
He liked to come down and act threatening when we disciplined our young kids - such as scolding them for flushing something expensive down the toilet…
He stared at everyone when he left the apartment or returned from work
He threatened kids
** On the UP side… with his patrol car parked out front, we had THE SAFEST building to live in!!
When he and his family moved out, EVERYONE had a collective sigh of relief. His moving actually caused ALL of us to, for once, have something to do with our neighbors. His leaving brought us all together, for a while.
I don't think all cops are like him, but he made everyone feel like a criminal. I know kids would feel like criminals just for having a popcicle… he just stare them down, until they ran inside crying
#14 For almost 20 years I lived in the same house in a snooty neighborhood in Calgary. It was a cul-de-sac with about 10 houses. When I moved away, I think there was only one other home that hadn’t changed hands at least once.
Image source: Cynthia White, Mushtaq Hussain
With one exception I had terrible neighbors.
Neighbor #1:
On one side of me was a family with three teenagers about 10 years older than my kids. When the parents went away, the kids had parties. No problem. I don’t give a rat’s a** what other people do. I care about what happens in my house.
There was just one problem. The neighbor’s deck was up against my side fence. When the kids had parties, the guests would throw their garbage over the fence. Beer cans, glass bottles, and other assorted crap. What really made me mad (it’s hard to make me mad; you really have to work at it, but once I’m mad, I can stay mad forever) was that I always had dogs, and I didn’t want my dogs cutting their feet on broken glass.
The first time it happened, I did nothing. The second time it happened, I waited until Monday, when I knew the parents were home, and I took over a garbage bag of their garbage which had been tossed over our shared fence into my yard. I told the parents that I didn’t know if they knew that their kids were having parties when they were away, and I frankly didn’t care, but I did not want their guests’ garbage in my yard including broken glass which was a hazard for my children and my pets. They just stood there open-mouthed.
The third and fourth time it happened the next day I just threw everything back over the fence. It didn’t happen again after that.
Neighbor #2:
On my other side, I had another winner.
One Saturday night when my kids were elementary-school-aged, and I was a single mom, we had a freak snowstorm in May late at night. A Y-shaped apple tree of mine fully leafed out split in two at about midnight, and half of it fell across the fence into the neighbor’s yard.
At 8 O’clock the next morning (Sunday) the neighbor rings the bell.
“What are you going to do about the tree in my yard?” he says.
“The tree fell around midnight,” I told him. “I need at least a day or two to get it cleaned up including getting a friend with a chainsaw over,” I told him.
I managed to get a friend over that afternoon, and we got it cleaned up and at least the mess was in my yard instead of the neighbor’s, and the fence was fixed. It took another week to get it all cleaned up, and that mishap eventually killed the tree, sadly.
That neighbor also rang my bell once again a few months later and showed me a cigarette butt that he found on his property. (I smoke, but I’m an extremely neat and polite smoker.)
“Not my brand,” I smiled at him. “Sorry. It didn’t come from me. I can’t help you,” and I shut the door.
I never spoke to them again after that. Did that guy seriously think I would drop cigarette butts on his lawn?
#15 I had some neighbors ten years or so ago who might win the prize here.
Image source: Michael J. McFadden, Rosemary Ketchum
They were squatters in the abandoned building adjoining my duplex row home. They were a bit shady, but I live in a rather low-rent area in general, and since the house was abandoned for 20 years I’d had more than the average share of shady neighbors.
In any event, the one guy I knew by name knocked on my door one day and said they were leaving but they were going to lock the place up nice and tight so I wouldn’t have to worry about less reputable squatters moving in.
Nice, eh?
About three years go by and I get a knock on my door, and it’s a group of nice Quakerly non-violence activist types looking for a squat and to be polite they thought they should ask me if I’d mind. They seemed pretty trustworthy and were working for good causes etc, so I promised I wouldn’t raise a stink if I heard them opening the place up. So early the next morning I heard them opening the back door and then banging around and moving furniture blockades and stuff inside the house.
Suddenly there were startled yelling sounds and footsteps running around and out the back door. I figured they’d seen a giant possum or something and just went back to sleep.
A bit later I hear a loud knocking on my door and find a half dozen cops running around outside. Evidently the squatters who had locked the place up three years earlier had left something behind: An overdosed body on their living-room couch… which was, after three years, no longer in very good condition.
I’d say those earlier squatters certainly qualified as the worst neighbors *I* ever had! LOL!
#16 So, I had these new neighbors across the street who seemed pretty friendly, although actually I don’t like to be too friendly with neighbors (I’ve learned that’s it’s not a good idea.)
Image source: Cynthia White, Anete Lusina
At that time, my then-husband had a small fix-it business. So, the neighbor asked if my husband would fix a few things there. After a long debate between me and my husband, he agreed that he’d do the work and only charge them what it cost him in materials but wouldn’t charge any labor. He was very reluctant to do it.
So, he went over and discussed it with him. He’d charge him the cost of materials, period. They had a deck that was structurally sound but needed new deck boards and two fence gates that didn’t work and needed new hardware. And one or two other small things.
So, he fixed everything one Saturday, and the next day, Sunday, he took them the receipts for materials and asked to be paid about $120. They looked at him like he had three heads, paid him the money in cash, and never spoke to us again. Seriously. If they saw us, they walked the other way. It was very obvious. I have no idea why. It never made any sense to me. Did they think we wouldn’t charge them for materials when we said we would and they agreed?
I always thought they might be in witness protection. They didn’t appear either of them to work, and they had hardly any furniture in a pretty big (2500 sq. ft) house. I always thought I’d see them on an episode of America’s Most Wanted. But I never did. They were still there when I left 10 years later.
#17 I doubt that this is the worst, but it's the first that comes to mind. When I was a single mom with 3 kids, of necessity, we lived in a really crappy apartment in a seriously crappy complex. At the time, it was all Icould afford. I worked two jobs, my kids were in school all day. IN other words, our apartment was quiet all day long 5 days a week at least.
Image source: Sam Humphreys, Charles Parker
The people who lived downstairs from us did not work. They slept all day and partied all night. Eventually we learned to sort of sleep through the screamingly loud music and other party noise; the cars coming and going, beeping their hellos and goodbyes, front door constantly opening and slamming shut, laughter, yelling and as the night went by, screaming arguments and fights in the parking lot. Every morning we went out and picked up the bottles and cans, cigarette and joint butts, used condoms and worse left in front of our apartment.
Other than a few attempts at requesting that they “keep it down” which was utterly ignored and a couple of calls in the middle of the night to the police with the same request which was also ignored, we realized that resistance was futile and we stopped complaining about it.
After about a year, I inherited a piano from my grandmother. An ugly old upright with the most beautiful sound and a fabulous touch. I was a classically trained pianist but at that point in my life I could barely afford my rent, a piano was out of the question so this was a huge deal to me. Once it was moved into the apartment I couldn't wait to play, my fingers twitched with eagerness. The instant the movers left, I sat down and Hayden sonatas just poured out of me. About 15 minutes in, there is a banging on the floor. Entranced with what I was doing, I ignored it. More banging on the floor. Over and over. One of the kids brought it to my attention. Laughing, I said that at that moment, I just didn't care. They laughed with me and I played on.
After about 30 minutes, the doorbell rang. One of the kids answered the door then called for me. I went to the door. It was the husband of the downstairs neighbors and he is seething with anger, didn't I realize that they were trying to sleep? On and on he went about how rude and inconsiderate I was. I said nothing. He ranted and raved threatened and swore. I still said nothing. He finished with this sentence, “we wouldn't mind so much if it was good music”
Whereupon, I closed the door. Latched it and turned the key, went back to my piano and resumed. This time, Rachmaninov.
#18 They were renting a floor of our house.
Image source: Janet Hempkin, Alena Darmel
When my husband and I first got together we bought a house in an area called the beach. It was an old wreck but still expensive so we worked on it ourselves and slowly made progress. After five years we got married, had the second and third floors finished and I was expecting a baby. We were both working so hard just to pay the mortgage but my husband was even working nights as a waiter because it was time for me to quit. As I was 8 months pregnant we decided to rent the upstairs. Oh boy, big mistake.
We interviewed a few people and decided on this really sweet girl. She said she worked evenings and was home during the day, led a quiet life and I actually thought we might end up hanging out together a bit. Well, as it turned out she worked nights alright…I’m pretty sure she was a hooker and she brought the party home with her. Every night.
Things came to a head one night when I knocked on her door and asked her to please keep it down (the baby was due any day) and she called me ever name in the book and laughed in my face. My husband came home shortly afterwards and there was a bit of a brawl with her guests. It just killed me that I couldn't roll up my sleeves and get right in there too.
My husband is a man who takes care of business. So this sweet girl came home late the following night ready to rock and roll only to find all of her possessions on the front lawn and the locks changed. She called her scuzzy friends for help and we never saw her again.
I know there are laws, and she could have relaliated but believe me my husband can intimidate the devil himself. He didn't like someone messing with his pregnant wife.
#19 Had to laugh at this one. When my wife and I first got married, the first home we owned was a condo/townhouse in a Houston suburb. (Or as I described it we owned a cheap apartment.)
Our neighbors were a young couple on one side and a young couple on the other side. One couple enjoyed partying all weekend/every weekend until the wee hours of the morning and the other couple enjoyed nude sunbathing every sunny day they were at home. Both situations were somewhat amusing at first but became annoying after the first summer in Houston. Repeated requests to both parties would result in a temporary respite of their activities. The sunbathing couple moved out after the husband discovered his wife enjoyed sunbathing with other people as well. The partying couple seemed to get more and more raucous as time progressed, to the point of multiple noise complaints from the other homeowners in the proximity. Make a long story shorter, my wife and I went on a week long trip to Vegas as a vacation. Somehow my stereo was left on, at full volume, with the multiple speakers turned face to the common wall for the entire week. And since I dearly loved Iron Butterfly, the long version of “In A Gadda Da Vida” played full blast for about 168 hours right next to my neighbors bedroom. One of our other neighbors across the courtyard was a Sheriff’s Deputy and he said there were noise complaints made by our neighbor. But when the police came out the neighbors were told that since the music was not heard outside of our residence, there was nothing that could be done. The neighbor stated that he would cut our power to stop the music and was told that if he did that he could be held liable for any damage incurred as a result. When we returned, the neighbor and I had a discussion, We agreed that they would not continue having loud parties and if they were informed the noise was getting out of hand, they would stop. I agreed that we would not have any further ‘mishaps’ with our stereo. Image source: Jim Whatley#20 I had this couple that were renting the house next door to me. They seemed nice enough at first. For some reason my puppy did not like the wife. Every time she was talking out in her backyard, my pup would start barking and flipping out. I also noticed that trash seemed to be finding its way into my yard as well. One day I came home from work; and there was mud tracked all through my kitchen, smeared on my sliding glass window and my yard looks like mud soup. My dog was soaking wet, he looked like he was wearing boots made of mud. It hadn't rained and it didn't look like my yard was still flooding. I went out to inspect my poor yard and realized the water was coming from the neighbors. I went next door and saw the husband walking out of the garage. I stopped him and asked if they had a busted pipe. He looked at me like I had 2 heads, so I told him about my yard. Then he says his wife had wanted to wash the patio but he's not sure about how much water she used. We are in California, nobody should be using that much water to wash a patio! I was so irritated, I had to go take care of my dog and clean my kitchen. About a week or 2 after I was home, when my dog runs out back barking. I go to bring him inside, but I stop and watch as the wife is tossing her yard garbage over the fence into my yard. I took video of this, for a while now I had been telling people this lady was crazy and here was proof. Then I gathered it all into a bag and went next door. When the wife answered it, I dumped it on her porch.
“I believe you dropped this”, then I went home. Image source: Stephanie Johnson#21 I think I am the weird neighbor.
Image source: Barbara Vines, Sarah Chai
I was friendly with my former next-door neighbors. We both gardened, and would swap produce back and forth. Sometimes in person, sometimes by leaving on each other’s porches. I made the mistake of trying to continue this tradition with my new neighbors. They had a table on their back deck, within an arm’s reach from the lawn. I reached between the fence boards and placed several cucumbers, a few zucchini, peppers, and a bag of green beans on the table.
A day or so later, I noticed that they had moved the table further from the fence, so it was unreachable from the round. The vegetables were still there, untouched. They remained there for several days, untouched. It almost seemed as though they were afraid they were a curse of some sort.
Well I learned from my fail, and started knocking on neighbors’ doors before gifting them with garden surplus. Some accepted them enthusiastically, others just have a ‘oh, whatever, thanks’ reaction.
#22 Ah, the cat stealer…
Image source: Kate Scott, Nataliya Vaitkevich
We had a cat named Donovan and a neighbor lady named ‘Susan’. She was single, in her 50’s, had a huge beautiful garden and seemed rather nice.
One summer, we were going on vacation for a week. We asked if she would look after the cat while we were gone. She enthusiastically said yes, and offered to have our cat stay at her house so it wouldn’t get bored/lonely.
How sweet of her!
We left on vacation, and had a grand old time.
When we got back from vacation, my mom went to pick up our cat and….
that’s when the crazy started.
The woman was bawling her eyes out as she handed our cat back.
Full on weeping. After knowing it for a week.
She kept saying “Goodbye Kitty! Bye my Donovan, momma’s gonna miss you!”
My mom was a bit freaked out, but she thanked her, paid her and came home.
A few days later, I had woken up around 8 AM and was peering out my window when I saw a shape moving in the fog, coming towards our back door.
It was the neighbor lady, walking across the full acre that separated our houses.
She was wearing her nightgown and curlers still.
I was trying to figure out if maybe she needed help or was hurt or something, when I heard knocking on the back door and the woman saying “Here kitty kitty!!”
I walked to the back door and opened it and she said, “I’m so sorry! I just need to see my baby! Where’s my baby?!”
I was very confused and asked her if everything was ok, or if she needed help.
She didn’t answer me, she just started calling out- into my house!- “Donovan! Here kitty kitty! Where’s my little boy?”
When the cat sauntered over, she was elated. I picked up MY cat, and let her pet him for a minute before saying “I think you should go, I have chores to do.”
When my parents came home, I told them about it and they said to ignore her if it happened again. It was all very, very strange.
Then, one day, we had let our cat out for a while (it was an indoor/outdoor cat) and when we called him to come in, he didn’t come. We checked all the places he usually lounged, and he was nowhere to be found. We searched for hours.
Finally, after a day of searching, my dad said, “Oh my god. Susan! Could she…?”
My parents quickly went over there to ask if she had seen the cat, and Susan vehemently denied knowing anything about where our cat was.
She was visibly angry about being asked, and then offered up “What do you think? That I stole him?!”
(Nobody had accused her of anything at this point, by the way.
He just said, “Hey have you seen our black cat, Donovan, anywhere today?”)
Then my mom started calling his name and whistling for him and before Susan could get the door slammed, he strolled to the door from somewhere inside the house and greeted my mom with a “Meow?”
My mom was PISSED. She started yelling about “If you ever steal our cat again…!” and “I ought to call the police!” and left.
He was an indoor cat for the next few months, until we moved again.
#23 There was one family that I liked and was friendly with. And I still see a few of the family members. I always thought they were the model family. Nice parents, nice kids, wholesome.
Image source: Cynthia White, Thirdman
While I was still living in the same house, they moved across town.
A few months later, the wife calls me and asks if I’ll come over (across town.) She says she’s leaving her husband, and in fact, he’s been beating her all these years, and she’d like me to help her tell her now-adult children because I’ve known them since they were small. (I didn’t know she considered me such a close friend?!) Of course, I went to help, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream.” W.S. Gilbert from H.M.S. Pinafore.
#24 My first home, where I grew up, is in an upscale neighborhood. About 15 or so years ago it started getting a big influx of NYC commuters who wanted to have big homes for their families but never learned any small town manners. Yuppies, mostly, who didn’t really want to live in a nice village with a sense of community but wanted to show off big houses and nice cars and the like. Some were alright. Lots of house flippers, too.
So my next door neighbors for the first 20 years of my life was a really nice Filipino family. A nurse, their two kids and an operating system designer / coder. They moved out, sold the house, that new family sold it again, and that third family was an uptight bunch of bastards. My house and theirs share a driveway, it’s split down the middle. My mom, rest her, was disabled. Their first day in the new home I brought them a pie that I’d baked myself and the wife took it and waited for me to leave. So I got to the point and told them about my mom’s disability and asked if they wouldn’t mind not parking right at her driver’s side door and pinning it in. It’s hard for her to have to park farther in the driveway and walk farther and all that. She screamed at me, “I HAVE KIDS.” and all that entails. Lovely. So then another time I come out and their monstrous and completely unnecessarily huge SUV (I mean, seriously, the town is tiny the train is the commute and the kids are small enough to fit in a sock drawer) is right next to my mom’s car. No way she could get in the car. So I see the husband and ask him if he wouldn’t mind parking a little farther into his driveway or a little farther out… and he challenges me to a fight. They chased away three au pair’s with the husband trying to [sleep with] them. I hate people sometimes. Image source: Jaques Figaro#25 I think my experience pales in comparison to many of the other answers here.
Image source: Lacy Windham, RF._.studio
I have an elderly neighbor. She has a cute little white dog, but that little dog never leaves the confines of her yard and house, because the lady doesn’t either.
I’ve lived in my house for about four years. During that time every interaction I’ve had with this woman has been vaguely or even outright unpleasant.
I’ve chalked this up to many things. Maybe she’s a widow. Maybe her friends and family never visit her. Maybe she is super lonely and that’s why she’s so sour.
A few months ago I ended with a little rescue dog of my own.
One Saturday morning I decided that my youngest child and I would try to be good neighbors, and go ask this woman if she would like us to take her dog with us while we walked around the block. I thought it would be a nice learning opportunity for my daughter (helping others and community and what not).
As we made our way across her yard toward her dog barking unhappily from the confines of the house, my dog decided to pee in her yard.
“KEEP YOUR DOG FROM USING THE BATHROOM ON MY PROPERTY!!!!” she bellowed from within the house.
I looked with some disbelief at her yard which was literally coated with her own dog’s feces.
She continued to yell at me out about my dog having peed.
My daughter and I turned around and continued on our walk alone.
It ended up being a good learning opportunity for my daughter…and for me.
Some people just aren’t terribly nice.DE
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