My friend Mallory just moved into a new apartment and everything was perfect except for the guy upstairs who PLAYED THE DRUMS EVERY NIGHT ABOVE HER BEDROOM.
Some of you may remember the stupid, horrible, no good, Clydesdale, club-footed upstairs neighbor I lived below for a year… who I wrote about here
…And those feelings are still very raw, so when I heard that Mallory’s obnoxious upstairs neighbor was playing DRUMS every night, after midnight, I actually got physically angry for her.
But I didn’t know the whole story yet.
Mallory, who isn’t one for confrontation or bothering people, didn’t know what to do.
She was the new tenant in the building and didn’t want to be a pain in the ass right away. But after a few days, she realized the CLANG CLANG CLANGING was making her bedroom uninhabitable.
So she did was any nice neighbor would do: She wrote a note and put it on his door.
It went something like, “Hey, I live below you and noticed that you play the drums very late at night. Is there a way you could not play drums late at night especially on a week night? I have class and work. Thanks, Mallory – Apartment B”
(P.S. That was a lot nicer than my note to my neighbor.)
But three days passed and Mallory still heard the drumming loud and clear. It didn’t stop at all.
WHAT AN A-HOLE!!! And she even tried to be nice! But it seemed to get worse. She had to spend the night on the couch for TWO DAYS because of the noise and tried to figure out what to do next.
Another note! She thought. I’ll write him another note!
This one was a bit more stern: “Hey, I have been sleeping on my couch for the past few nights because of your drumming. Can you please not do that? Mallory – Apartment B.”
Two weeks passed and there was still drumming. She was still sleeping on the couch.
Some nights the drumming stopped and Mallory had hope in humanity. But the next day it would start again. She was livid and delirious.
Finally, she called the landlord, gulping. She hated confrontation.
“Hey, I’ve been having a problem with the upstairs neighbor, he keeps playing the drums every night,” Mallory said. “It’s been going on now for almost three weeks. And I left him two notes.”
The landlord agreed that playing the drums was a legitimate complaint and said she’d call him and get it all straightened out.
YEA!!! Mallory smiled when she hung up. HERE I COME, BED!!
When the drums were still going strong that night, Mallory prayed that it would be the last time she’d hear them.
The next day, her landlord called.
“He doesn’t play the drums,” the landlord said. “He doesn’t own drums.”
“What???” Mallory asked.
“Yea, he said he didn’t know what your notes were talking about…so I had my maintenance guy look around and it turns out it’s a broken heater. We’re getting someone to fix it ASAP.”
A BROKEN HEATER???
A BROKEN HEATER THAT COULD HAVE BEEN FIXED THREE WEEKS AGO, HAD SHE KNOWN IT WASN’T A DRUM SET???
Why didn’t this guy write her a note back saying, “Hey, I don’t play the drums???? How hard would that have been??
She repeated in her head what the landlord had said: “He didn’t know what your notes were talking about…”
THEN WHY DIDN’T HE RESPOND?!!??
WITH A SIMPLE SENTENCE???!
I mean, her note said she was being forced
to sleep on the couch because of the noise.
Did he not think that was something she’d like to change???
His silence (uh no pun intended) was almost worse than him actually playing the drums. The very IDEA that this could have been handled three weeks ago with a simple note was infuriating.
Why do guys not respond to the mail?
It wasn’t like this was a wedding invitation. This was HER LIFE.
Mallory imagined her note, NO WAIT, BOTH NOTES, sitting on his counter, being ignored while she tossed and turned on the couch with a pillow over her head night after night.
I bet if this guy had a girlfriend, SHE would have responded to the notes, Mallory thought.
Thankfully, within days, the heater was fixed and the “drumming” stopped.
And now she has a new nickname for the dude in apartment A(hole)