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10th August 2016
09:29am BST
"I put my shoes on, went down, and introduced myself. I gave them my phone number, and told them that if they needed anything, please don't hesitate to ask. I also mentioned that I have an electronic drum kit (the words "drinking" in her text autocorrected from "drumming"), and that I only really use it a few times a week, for half an hour, around 4-o'clock when I get off work. I asked her that if is ever a bother, or wakes up the baby, or if we're ever too loud at ALL, to please let us know. Now, I had done this with all previous tenants, and never gotten one complaint."The very next morning, while making a stew, he received this text:
So far, so amusing, right?
Next time Chef Schwasty took out his drum sticks to practice, which he describes as "a form of therapy" his phone beeped almost immediately.
The texts began to get more personal and affected the drummer's ability to practice: "At most, I was drumming 2-4 times a week, never for more than 1/2 hour," he said
"Texts like these became frequent. I changed my schedule around a lot so I could fit some drum time in. Most times, I would even wait for them to leave so that I could drum."
Sometimes, he even received messages when he wasn't at home; "My girlfriend was at home watching TV when I got this text. She later sent me a video of how loud it was, and I could barely make out dialogue on the TV. Meanwhile, we could hear their stereo most days and nights without cease. We didn't want to complain like them, though. It felt petty."
Soon the passive aggression was at fever pitch...
Soon even 'random' times were off-limits...
Eventually, ChefSchwasty stopped replying.
"I usually asked for them to text me back when she was awake so I could get some practice in, but I never got one back." he explains. "So, I let them be. It was at this point that I was only drumming once every other week."
But this seemed to anger them further. The turning point eventually came when he alerted the couple he was planning on having a friend over to play music (through headphones) on Wednesday.
"My girlfriend couldn't hear us 10-feet away. I told them it'd go from 6-8PM, and she said okay. After all the compromise that I had made for them, I felt like I was entitled to do this once. She agreed. As you can see, I got a text just shy of 8PM. I replied cordially, and tactfully. Within seconds, Mr. Whiny-pants was POUNDING on the ceiling with his fists as hard as he could, enough to possibly cause damage to the ceiling itself. Then, I heard sprinting up the stairs outside. He kicked our door. I opened it to find him red-faced, and clenching his fists.
He started laying into me about how I can't be doing what I was doing, and shrieked on and on. I explained to him my previous courtesies, and lamented about how I couldn't even do this once.
He stormed down the stairs saying something about me regretting this. My girlfriend was thinking about calling 911. Needless to say, we stopped practice that night."
Regardless, the texts kept on coming:
The drummer continued his infrequent practice sessions, until he received the following letter from the management of the apartment complex, demanding that he quit for good.
"I know this may not seem like a big deal to you, but drumming has helped me through a lot of bad times in my life, and I feel grounded when I do it. I don't know how many of you have a ritual or practice that helps you stave off depression, but this was mine."
Have you ever found yourself in a situation like this? Is there a way it can be resolved while keeping everyone happy? Let us know on Twitter @HerFamilydotie.
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