Neighbors are a tricky proposition. They could be your new best friends, or they could just exist on you periphery…or, of course, they could make your life really, really unpleasant.
OP’s neighbors started out being the decent kind.
This isn’t my story, but my parents. It was probably the first time I witnessed “malicious compliance” and I still remember it well.
It was about 25 years ago, so I was about 8, and we had just moved into a 150 year old house that was in need of major repairs. My dad, thinking ahead, knew he would need a large garage/workshop to really get started on the renovations properly.
On the edge of our yard was an ancient barn that was falling apart and needed to be torn down. My dad figured this was the best place to build his new workshop, so that was the plan.
We had met and were on good terms with all the neighbours at that point. When the plans for the new workshop were finished, my parents went around to all the neighbours as a courtesy to show them the plans and get their blessings.
The neighbours whose property the current barn and new workshop would border, I’ll call them the Peters, were concerned about the height.
The existing barn was 16′ high and they asked if we could only build it 1 storey, 12′ max, as to not block the sun in their yard.
Sure, no problem my parents agreed; they wanted to go 2 stories for extra storage, but just 1 wasn’t a deal breaker.
Then, they just couldn’t hide their racism any longer.
So the old barn was torn down and the foundation laid for the new one. During that time, there was a falling out with the Peters and my parents. I’m not sure what happened, but it turned nasty.
One day, my brother and I were playing street hockey and Mr. Peters came out yelling at us “Get off the road you half breed *****!” (my dad is black, so we’re both half black) “You have to earn your place in this town!”.
Upon hearing this, my mom had to physically restrain my dad from going over and beating the living crap out of him.
Eventually, he cooled off, and started on his plan.
So, their dad did everything in his power to make them regret it.
The plans for 1 storey went out the window. Soon, the new garage that was only supposed to be 1 storey soon gained a second in the blueprints. If they were going to direct prejudiced comments at his kids, my dad would build what he wanted.
As construction started, the Peters came over to ask why there was 2 storeys being built and were told to go f— themselves.
We didn’t hear from them again until the roof started to go on.
The by-laws of the township limited all out-structures to 24′ high. The Peters called the township and then a building inspector, claiming that the new garage was over 24′ high. If it was over height, the entire thing would have to be torn down and rebuilt, costing us 10s of thousands of dollars.
I remember the Peters standing there, watching the inspector, with smug looks on their faces.
Two days later, we got the final report back from the township and inspector. 23 feet, 11 inches, just as my dad had drawn up in his new plans.
He sent me up on the roof of the garage (just plywood, no singles yet) with some spray paint and had me write “23 FEET 11 INCHES – HEIGHT APPROVED” in 2 foot high neon orange letters across the entire roof, facing their yard and house.
For three long years, he held out.
Not only did the garage block all sunlight from reaching their yard, but my dad waited until everything else was done before he shingled that side of the roof.
They had to stare at those neon orange letters for almost 3 years.
We didn’t hear a peep from them for the next 10 year until they moved.
The top comment is either skeptical or impressed.
You know he was.
Sometimes being petty really is worth it.
Spite not be healthy but it is satisfying.
This dad is the best sort of dad.
Problem solving without violence or profanity. Win!
Now that you’ve read that story, check out this one about a delivery driver who took a $400 grocery order back because she wasn’t given a tip.