Nothing could have prepared Lauren in Oakland for the passive-aggressive avalanche that awaited her the other day at her new apartment. She calls the experience of finding the notes totally surreal. “It keeps playing back in slow motion in my mind, from the second I saw the first one hanging over the threshold to my absolute horror and delight at finding an eleventh one hours later on the bathroom door.” Here’s the theme park version!
“I’m not sure anything in particular prompted it,” Lauren says, “but I live, apparently, in some kind of alternate dimension where full-grown adults believe in chore-wheels, so it could’ve been anything — but certainly not ELEVEN things to correspond with the number of found notes. Then again, I’m not a timebomb waiting to explode, so how would I know?”
Tina is Los Angeles didn’t have any problem with her roommate‘s friend couchsurfing at their apartment for a month, but both she and her roomie started to get irked when the friend started inviting other friends to stay over — and then kept doing it, even after the roomie expressly asked her not to.
“The first friend we encountered killed one of my fish and put gum in my aquarium,” Tina says. When another friend-of-a-friend started “subtly and sarcastically deriding” their taste in fashion/entertainment/blah blah blah…well, the roommates decided enough was enough.
Writes Jaina in Westport, Conn.: “I dated this asshole last fall, and dumped him because I found out that he was using his Livejournal to try to bang girls on the side. I, of course, still spy on him.” Or at least, she did…until her ip address gave her up.
Adds Jaina: “Please note that the entry was posted at 11:45 p.m. on a Friday. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about the state of his love life.”
Meanwhile, when a passive-aggressive blog posting starts to seem like a relatively direct method of communication, you know things aren’t going to end well.
“The tiny Sioux City, Iowa airport had a jaw-droppingly comprehensive intro to what one could or could not take on board a plane,” reports Timoni from San Francisco, including actual sample-sized bottles of toiletries taped up, show-and-tell style. “The corker, though, was this vehement note near the end (which, yes, had a plastic QUART-SIZE BAG!!!!!!!!! taped underneath).”
Ashley in Chicago says her roommates are the king and queen of passive-aggressive notes. (“If they ever found this site, they’d think it was a self help group,” she says.) The latest example:
Ashley’s still fuming over this one. “I mean, come on. Just throw it away yourself! You’re probably exerting more energy writing the email and stressing about it,” she says. “And why do you think I’ve been spending so much time at my boyfriend’s anyway?”
This fridge saga (from a Boston-area university lab building) comes to us with a confession on the part of the anonymous submitter: she started it, sort of.
It all began when she discovered that her salad dressing had been mysteriously disposed of. Sad that she had to eat dry lettuce for lunch, she left a note (1) for the black hand responsible “in the least bitchy way I knew how.” She didn’t realize that her soundoff was actually a declaration of war.
Adds our submitter: “Needless to say, I think we have all been spending a little too much time in the lab.”
At the Washington restaurant where Scott works, a customer recently informed one of his coworkers that when she was a waitress back in the day, tips were regarded as a luxury (a sentiment that’s been echoed by many commenters on this site).
Thrilled as she was by this little history lesson, Scott’s coworker decided a little present-day tutorial was only fair. Says Scott: “She retrieved her most recent paycheck (zero dollars and zero cents…in D.C., servers make $2.77 an hour, which all goes to taxes), wrote a little note, and dropped it on the table after they had paid their check.”