We know that people are crazy already. Sometimes, though, the craziness is really amazing to me.
Story #1:
A couple weeks ago, I was doing laundry in the basement of my house. We share the free washer and dryer with the upstairs apartment and it says in our lease that we are equally responsible for any repairs on the machines because the landlord didn't buy them and they don't maintain them.
When I got downstairs, the washer was done and the dryer was done. (Our dryer never turns off, so it was running running on "cool" down and the clothes inside were dry.) Normally, I would just move the clothes from one place to the next and then put my own in, never knowing who owns the laundry let alone what apartment they live in. But, here in my new house, with only one other apartment, I decided I'd go up and ask. I knocked once. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. Nothing. So I went back down and did what everybody does. Moved the dry clothes to the hamper sitting there, and the wet clothes to the dryer (without turning it on, of course).
For the record, this is my understanding of shared laundry facility protocol. I've never lived anywhere where this wasn't the case. I've even had it happen to me at laundromats when I've been gone too long doing errands.
When I went back down to move to the dryer, the hamper was gone and the dryer was back on "cool" and that load was dry. So I took them out, placed them on the wiped down top of the dryer and put my load in. Shortly after that, I heard someone on the stairs and a lot of door-slamming. Next thing I know - knock on the door.
The man who has lived upstairs the longest was at the door (I've heard he's been there 6 years). He wanted to discuss what had happened with the laundry. I asked what he meant. Long story short, he was insulted I moved his laundry, especially considering that he owns the machines. What? An annoying conversation followed, during which I finally discerned that long ago, everyone in the house had pooled together to buy the machines, and since he was the only one of those original purchasers left, he thought he owned the machines. I confirmed that we should still use the machines, noted that my lease held me responsible for half their repair and signed in blood that I would never again touch his laundry. He finally left.
On inspection, my roommate and I confirmed that we are paying for the electricity to run the washing machine (they have the dryer) and all the lighting in the basement. I'm just waiting for another laundry-related altercation, so I can tell him that we need $1 every time he runs the washer. Grin.
Story #2:
Friday night, I was riding the bus home from the soup kitchen where I volunteer. It was a longish trip and I was tired. There was a very cute family sitting just in front of me with a mom, dad, and two little boys. The smallest boy, as we got closer to my stop, began pushing the stop button for each stop.
He did it as we approached my stop, so I didn't hit the button too. The driver had been stopping at each stop, so I got up and stood next to the door as we got closer to my street. She didn't stop. She drove past. So I yelled out "Stop the bus please!" as I was way way at the back of the bus. She slammed on the brakes and stopped while yelling at me "Why didn't you push the button?" We were now stopped, but she wouldn't open the door for me. I yelled, "The button had been pushed already!" and she yelled something I didn't catch, with her arm waving in the air as she told me off. Still no open door. Finally I yelled, "I don't need to fight, I just needed the bus to stop! Open the door, please!" She did. And I was allowed to disembark the bus.
Jeez.
Are people's lives really that horrible that they need these tiny things to feel better? Perhaps. The economy is in the toilet, people are worried, and I guess civility is the first thing to go. If we just treated each other more kindly, though, I think things might feel better.
