I am standing on the stoop outside my house as this guy who just moved in to the basement suite below us is walking in to his place. He’s about 23 and seems a bit awkward, but I haven’t really spoken to him yet.
As he’s closing the door behind him, he turns and says in passing, “By the way, you have to move out of your place in the next couple of weeks.”
Now we’re moving out soon anyway, so even if it’s true it’s not that big of a deal, but I had to ask him what he was getting on about.
He goes, “Listen, to be honest, it’s not me. My dad is going to be moving in with me soon, and we’re gonna start making sandwiches for that new sandwich place on Broadway. They have a roast beef one that’s so good. It has provolone on it and comes with delicious coleslaw. There’s also a turkey club which is my favourite, and…”
I cut him off. “Okay, but what does that have to do with us?”
“It’s your Netflix.”
Now I’m getting a little more curious. “What about it?”
“You watch it way too loud. I’ll never be able to hear myself think so that I can make the best sandwiches.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you felt that way. You should have told us. We’ll try to keep it down. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Well I didn’t want to come across like a jerk, telling you you can’t watch movies the way you want to.”
“Sure, I get that, but instead you just tell me I have to move out?”