“Everyone, come see this! I humbled myself, I begged her, just for a chance to put food on the table, and she humiliates me like this. Who on earth treats people this way!”
“They say a good neighbor beats a distant relative. With a neighbor like her living among us, how are any of us ever going to have any peace!”
May Acevedo's screeching had the whole building out in the hallway in no time.
Of course they all knew exactly how this had started and how it had ended, but they also knew which side was the easier mark, so one by one they started posting in the group chat to smooth things over.
【Oh come on, you're a business owner. What's the harm in giving someone a job?】
【Let's all talk it out nicely. It's the middle of the night, stop fighting. Can't you each give a little?】
【Exactly. Women are naturally more detail-oriented than men. Your company's full of men anyway, wouldn't hiring a few women be a good thing?】
I just found it laughable.
Every last one of them, acting like they'd come down with amnesia.
So I went ahead and reposted May's list of demands a few more times.
“Whoever's so high-minded, go ahead and hire her yourself. I'm not the only one in this complex who owns a company!”
I tagged a few of the other business owners. Not one of them dared to say a word.
And I couldn't be bothered to argue any further.
I just posted a section of the noise ordinance.
“May Acevedo, in ten minutes I'm calling the police. If you'd like to spend a few more nights in a cell, then by all means, keep it up.”
May wasn't the least bit afraid of me calling the cops, of course.
After all, she was pregnant now, and even the good Lord himself couldn't touch her. Still, after she'd kept up the dry wailing for a good long while, I suggested she give a little more thought to the baby in her belly, and she finally went back inside.
Over the next few days, May and I crossed paths in the elevator a handful of times.
Every time, she chose to act like I wasn't there.
I thought that was the end of it, too. But a week later, in the dead of night, the second I got home, the sound of a basketball thudding against the floor started up overhead.
I knew this was May getting back at me on purpose. I pulled up the group chat right away, and it was dead quiet, every one of them acting like they'd gone deaf.
“It's one in the morning. Don't you think it's time to put the basketball away?”
But my message went out, and not a soul answered.
If anything, the basketball overhead got louder. I contacted building management, but the property manager came up and just shook his head.
“There's nothing we can do, ma'am. You say it's noisy, but we asked the other residents, and they all say they don't hear a thing.”
“And the moment we showed up, it went quiet. There's nothing we can do about that!”
“They're doing it on purpose. I'm telling you, the second you call the cops, she'll go quiet. The police can't exactly move into your apartment to handle the noise for you.”
The truth was, I wasn't surprised.
The other residents hadn't gone deaf. They just figured May targeting me was a far better deal than her targeting them. Either way, the only one who'd suffer would be me. The standoff dragged on for several days. I bought earplugs, moved into the spare bedroom, and still I was nearly worn down to the edge of a nervous breakdown.
There was no other choice.
I had to go upstairs and knock.
The sight of me at her door.
May was thoroughly pleased with herself.
She didn't bother with any pleasantries.
“One sentence: either you give me a job, or life goes on just like this!”
“Not many people in this complex dare to cross me, anyway!”
May's husband, Kerry Lyons, let out a few smug little chuckles.
“That's right. Grudges are better undone than tied up tighter.”
“We live right above you. And you're single. There's plenty you'll need our help with down the road!”
“Since there's no opening at your company, then just let my wife be your housekeeper. She's a stay-at-home mom to begin with, so looking after you would be a piece of cake for her, wouldn't it?”
When I heard Kerry say housekeeper.
