Cut that crap out.
Perhaps it's just a byproduct of my east coast upbringing. If we did this as kids, and my Dad got wind of it? We would have been strictly reprimanded. Perhaps...I'm just not neighborly. Maybe, beneath all my sunshiney goodness, I'm actually a mean person. Maybe...just maybe. Still, I must say that I don't understand asking people if you can borrow bizarre food/condiment items. Are you planning on replacing it? I mean...really? Are you going to come to my house with a cup of sugar? An egg? A spoonful of relish? If so...here's a tally of the items I'd like to have returned to me:
- the two pickles (not only was I stunned at the request, I was stunned I actually had them)
- the three eggs
- the pancake syrup (whatever quantity you used)
- a new cookie tray (to replace the one you borrowed and ruined)
- the stick of butter
- the mustard
- the cup of sugar
- the three bandaids
- the rubbing alcohol (???)
- the double a batteries
*thinks*
Perhaps part of the problem is...It annoys me, and yet I always say, "yes?"
I'm about to become RPM...aka, the Woman Who Doesn't Keep ANYTHING in Her House. Let me just add that we literally live around the corner from the supermarket. And I don't mean like..."Texas" 'round the corner or up the road. Literally...it's around the corner.
Bigger question is...when am I ever going to feel entitled to say, "No." And not think I've just done something incredibly wrong?
Sunday addendum:
*knock, knock, knock*
RPM answers the door.
Neighbor: Hey, can we borrow a movie?
RPM: what?
Neighbor: can we borrow a movie to watch?
RPM: *stares*
Neighbor: *blushes* We're bored.
RPM: *blinks*
Neighbor: Want me to come back another time?
RPM: *cocks head*
Neighbor: Does this mean, no?
RPM: *stares*
Comments
slap slap slap............yeah...just tell whoever "sorry, I don't have that...I just ran out"
what the hell?
don't they have STORES in Austin?
It used to drive me insane when I worked at the jewelry sotre I was constantly handing out Nuprin or whatever "condiment" I had at the time. To my boss, and to all the girlies that worked there. Hello. Fucking BRING YOUR OWN after you have asked me the first 35 times. jebus people suck. I probably gave out a bunch of tampons too. Hell, I was giving out fricking Ricola form the bottom of my sandy beach bag. The *exfoliant* throat lozenge.
the only thing i ever give out is ibuprofen.
and people bitch at me about it because it doesn't fucking say motrin on it. i mean, seriously? same drug... it works just as well, even though it isn't the stupid brand name.
people... are crazy.
that said, my first reaction would like be the opposite of yours. unless they were good neighbors, friends, i'd be more like, "no?" instead of "yes?"
because i'm a bitch like that, and if you live around the corner from the store... then put on yo' shoes and walk to the store!
and then i'd go over there the next day and ask if i could borrow a cup of cyanide. just to freak them out a bit.
@all: we're all a buncha softies. Even swing-ready CP.
Perhaps it's just a byproduct of my east coast upbringing.
I think it's got to be something more than that. I remember my mom trading household goods with neighbors in Lancaster.
Here's your solution right here.
One of the strange, unspoken benefits to living in the middle of Crap Nowhere is the neighborly burden it takes off our shoulders when it comes to awkward situations like yours. When we lived in DC, there was a Little Old Lady across the street whose Grown Douchebag Son (literally grown, he was in his 40s) still lived with her and was constantly getting into trouble. So at all hours of the day and night she'd have to go bail him out or pay off the local Meth Lords so they wouldn't feed his testicles to their pit bull or find her Jaws of Life and cut him out of yet another totaled vehicle, leaving us to care for her dog, Buffy. Buffy was about 600 years old and incontinent and deaf and mostly blind, so "watching Buffy" was usually an exercise in following him around while he crashed into walls and doors and chairs and then fell down and shit himself. Yelling at him did no good because he was deaf. It was all very comical and unpleasant, and after the fifth time we were called upon to keep an eye on this creature I was tempted to go feed it to the Meth Lord's pit bull. But the Little Old Lady was just too adorable and sad and exhausted to say no to, and we finally had to move to Nebraska to get away from her filthy Special Needs dog.
Now, of course, we have Lazy Jobless Douchebag Brother-in-Law living less than a mile down the highway, in a trailer across from the Old Folk's Home, and this proximity has turned him into Kramer. There are things I can no longer do in my own house -- go get a glass of water while naked, visit the Necessary with the door open, beat my wife with a tire iron -- for fear that he'll come bursting through the door at any moment looking to "borrow" a bottle of whiskey or a fire extinguisher or a box of Double Crunch. It's starting to get on my balls.
Now that we've been here almost 4 years, the only regular Drop-In we get is the wizened old bag from the Jehovah's Witness church over in the next town. I've never been able to deal with these people the way I should, which is to simply tell them the unapologetic truth about my religious beliefs (or lack thereof) and send them on their way. I just can't do it with this old lady, though. She's got to be pushing Willard Scott Recognition Years and has the most wrinkled skin I've ever seen on a mammal. I don't know what authority these wrinkles lend her mission -- with her tight fistful of Watchtower magazines and her unbelievably uncomfortable-looking shoes -- but somehow they mesmerize me into listening to her shtick every month (she seems to prefer the second Sunday of every month for her rounds). I've hidden from her a couple of times to avoid The Dreaded Talk, but I've never been able to send her packing. At this point it'd be easier to simply convert to Jehovahism and be done with it.
Oh, and by the way, can I borrow 2 pounds of jumbo shrimp, please?
Jehovahism...
filthy special needs dog...
And no...you cannot borrow 2 pounds of jumbo shrimp. I'm so sorry.
Wow, double-Wow!
(random jerks) "Sorry we never donate/sign up/ etc. at the door, thank you anyway." Close door.
(known jerks) "I don't think we have any whatever. Sorry."
Be willing to schmooze a while, but don't push it.
If there is need for a second way of saying no add:
"I just used the last whatever myself. Guess I need to go to the store."
Remember, you don't owe these people anything.
And no one is starving for want of a pickle or some syrup.
Unless this is your bestest buddy ever, or you actually do owe them for some big favor, this is out of line.
Well, I do have to admit I did once go knocking on a couple of neighbors' doors to get some ice. I was making this birthday cake for my daughter's birthday and it has a jello swimming pool in the middle of it. (It's a frigging great bday cake, by the way.) I'm trucking along putting everything together...and then get to the place in the recipe where I realize I am drastically underprepared for the ice requirement. (The jello pool has to be iced down right quick after you make it or it won't, you know, gel right.) I don't have an icemaker, only 2 measley ice trays. So in a panic I scampered from door to door trying to find me some ice--but none of my neighbors were home to even respond to my odd request. So I put the whole thing in the freezer and hoped for the best.
Epilogue: Given the sorry state of the jello (no smooth pool that), we went for more of a "windswept cove" look. What I regret most, though, is that I forgot the graham cracker for the diving board. Dang it!
Wow. That's amazing.
As a friend, I have no problem sharing everything I have. My friends come over and I want them to eat, drink, be merry. If they need something, I'll do whatever I can to help them get it. However, I'm never friends with those overbearing people; those friends who come over just to raid your cabinets and have no qualms about eating the last of your favorite foods etc. They are just as giving to me as I am to them. So, if one of my friends came over asking for anything, I'd not even give a second thought to lending it to them. Just plain neighbors are a bit different. If it's something like a couple eggs or some milk every couple months, no problem. That's if I don't know them. If I knew them and liked them, I'd be able to take it a bit more frequently. Perhaps once every few weeks. However, should it become something frequent as this sounds to be and they were not considered friends as well, I'd have no problem saying, "No." And having no apology or excuse of not having it. I'd plainly say I felt like I was being used and point them towards that store around the corner.