SOCIAL DISTANCE: AN EXERCISE IN LISTENING

Social distance is different in an apartment house. Shared walls and floors work the same, but the sound travels.

Keeping out of circulation is the rule of the day, but the sound in apartments is constant.

Sometimes I miss my old apartment, but then remember how it was.

A new tenant moved in upstairs, a man and a woman. Since the bedrooms were laid out the same, his was right above mine, which needed a little help from the beginning.

The man worked at the local airport and got up early, 3:30 AM early.

Have you been to the airport and seen the boots the guys wear when they load luggage, or drive the food tractors? They look big and heavy.

Either the guy put his boots on right out of bed, or he had airport slippers made out of the same stuff. Either way, it sounded like a giant stomping the floor above me.

It was so loud it woke me up. Did it shake the light fixture in the ceiling? Just a little and it wasn’t a hanging light.

After the first week I decided to ask him if he could change something up for the sake of community harmony, at least my harmony.

I knocked on his door one weekend. He opened it. The guy was big and tall.

He opened the door with, “What do you want?”

Me: Thank you for asking. I’ve got a little problem I need help with.

Big Guy: I’ve got a problem, too.

Me: Look at us with so much in common right off. You go first. What’s your problem and how can I help?

BG: My problem is you standing at my door. You can solve it by leaving.

I could tell social distance was going to be a tough negotiation

Me: No problem. I’ll be leaving right after I ask you to change your morning routine. I’ve been waking up at 3:30 in the morning to heavy footsteps. Is there any way to walk lighter? Maybe change up the footwear?

BG: No.

Then he shut the door in my face. You know what they say in sales class? Once you get the first “NO” the real work starts. I needed to make a plan.

This neighbor was a real pisser and I didn’t think he’d enjoy another round of Stop Waking Me Up without confrontation.

What to do? I waited until he left one morning and went upstairs and knocked on the door again. A nice woman answered. I reviewed my problem.

She said she couldn’t do anything about it

Me: I understand. So I hope it won’t be a bother to see me here every morning to ask the same question: Can you help me by being a better neighbor and not wear work boots to bed.

Her: We don’t sleep in boots.

Me: Then maybe change the ten pound slippers to something that doesn’t sound like you’re going to fall through my roof every morning? Maybe it’s just the building, but it sounds like a four hundred pound man doing jumping jacks.

Her: . . .

Me: That’s all I’ve got. Go ahead and tell your husband . . .

Her: He’s not my husband.

Me: Right, not your husband. Got it. The man I talked to over the weekend, the guy who answered the door, please tell him I’ll be here to ask for your help every morning. We’ll probably become friends, you and I. That’s what usually happens when I’m around people. We become friends.

Her: I don’t want to be friends.

Me: You won’t be able to resist, is what I’m saying. That’s just how people usually react to me. The guy who lives here didn’t seem friendly, but you do, so let’s look forward to our meetings.

Her: He won’t be happy when I tell him your plan.

Me: I understand. If you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t like you meeting new men, either, especially one who lives so close.

Her: Are you done?

Me: Here’s my value proposition: If the guy who lives here doesn’t wake me up every morning, you won’t see me. If he continues to wake me, we’ll get to know each other better. I’ll probably start bringing you presents. Do you like coffee? Should I bring you a cup with or without milk? How about a newspaper?

Her: I don’t drink coffee.

Me: Then I’ll buy a pair of slippers from the giant foot store. That ought to help keep things quiet. So, yes, I’m done. I think we’re going to like our little get-togethers. Thank you for your time. See you tomorrow. Would you like me to bring a cup of herbal tea and The Oregonian?

She shut the door in my face for social distance. They were a consistent couple, I’ll give them that.