That's it. I've had it. I deserve better than this. Time to stop being fucking self-effacing. I deserve better than this.

I don't talk about it a lot, because it is, largely, a non-issue, and not generally of interest to anyone. Much less myself. But I think this makes a worthy first AND last post on the topic.

I work security at this building complex called the Collingwood Village. The pay is decent, the benefits are good, and I get eight half-hour breaks during an eight hour shift, which is when I do most of my writing and drawing. Therefore, it has been acceptable to me.

Until last night. Last night broke me.

That bitch. That bitch.

There's this woman. She lives in apt. #1001. I'm not saying which building, so I feel I can post this safely enough. Besides, it makes telling the rest of this story simpler. Every night, she calls in a noise complaint against the folks in apt #1101. This is immediately above her, naturally.

Every night, near-tears, out of her mind with barely-suppressed rage, she calls and complains about the loud music coming from #1101. And Every night I go there, and I press my ear gently to the door of #1101, and I listen. Sometimes... sometimes there will be a faint whisper of noise. A TV on at barely-audible levels. But usually, there is nothing. On multiple occasions, I have gone to the woman making the complaints, and asked her about this. She always insists that the tennant upstairs GETS quiet when I knock on the door. The fact that I quietly listen, with my ear against his door, means nothing to her. She has a vendetta to pursue, damn it all!

Once - the first time - I even expressed sympathy for her. I told her about how I have to sleep during the day, and often get woken up by noise from my neighbors, so I understand how hard it is. She threw it back in my face, telling me that this was to be expected, sleeping during the day, but that people working "normal" hours shouldn't have to put up with it. I felt like slamming her own door in her face and storming away. Of course, I did no such thing. But fuck her. Dismissing my empathy? Fuck her.

This last night, I got the scheduled noise complaint, and did as I always did. I went and had a listen. No noise. I don't think anyone was even home. No light coming through the peep-hole.

So, I go down to #1001, and talk to the bitch. I explain to her that there's nobody there. Near tears, as usual, she demands, "Can't you hear it?!?".

I was sick of this. So I figured I'd push through. I asked her if she minded if I came inside so I could listen for myself. She grudgingly accepted. I came in and found her TV on. Clearly, she was trying her best to sleep.

I ask her to turn it off, so I could listen. She did. I heard nothing.

I stood perfectly still, took a deep breath, and held it, so that the sound of my breathing wouldn't drown out this astonishing racket.

And then, faintly, I heard a soft thrumming noise.

And then my heart beat, and that drowned it out.

And then I heard it again. Until my heart beat drowned it out again.

I shit you not.

And I have pretty good hearing.

This is what had her near-tears every night for the past three weeks. A noise so faint that my heartbeat was sufficient to drown it out.

Still, a good security guard is solicitous, because our work is not valued, and we are viewed as easily replaceable, and a single complaint will have us permanently removed from the site. This I know.

So, I decide to try to figure out where it's actually coming from. It seems to be coming from the west. I tell her I think it's coming from her next door neighbor.

She insists this is not the case, because her next door neighbor isn't home. Insists, I say, and I use the word advisedly. She will not hear a suggestion to the contrary. I point out that their TV is on. She counters that they must simply have left it on while they went out, because she knows they're not home.

So, I go next door, and I knock. Promptly, a young man comes to the door and asks what the trouble is. I tell him, the lady next door is complaining about the noise, and could he please turn it off. He agrees.

I go back to the lady, and she tells me that the noise is still going on. I suspect, in retrospect, that she would say this even if she had known it were not. After all, she had a vendetta to pursue.

So, I go upstairs. I listen again at the door of #1101. Nothing. I go to the door to the east; #1109. Nothing. I go to the west. #1102. Nothing. I go FURTHER west; #1103. I hear a party going on. I knock on the door. Five young men inside, having a party. Large speakers set on the floor. Music playing. I explain the situation to them, and ask them to turn down the music. They comply readily. Good for them.

I go back downstairs, and tell her. It's #1103. It has likely ALWAYS been #1103. She refuses to believe it. After all, she has a vendetta to pursue. She's staked so much on her hatred of the young man living abover her! I ask her, has the noise stopped in the past few minutes? She grudgingly admits that it has, but insists this means nothing.

I decide to strangle her.

Then, decide against it.

The next five minutes are spent arguing this point. She will not allow me to disengage. She is plainly, at this point, NOT interested in going to bed. She has to salvage her vendetta. This is what matters to her. Eventually, I all but order her to go to bed, and tell her, "Listen, if you can go to bed, and there's no noise, then I think we've found our culprits" (Silently, I add, "Why can't you understand this, you crazy bitch?"). "Try to sleep. I think it will do you good".

She extremely grudgingly agrees. I bid her a good night and good sleep. Without thanking me, she closes her door.

This took a little bit under twenty minutes.

...

I've had enough. I can't take this any more. When she calls tonight to complain, choking back tears of bitter frustration at me, I don't know how I will contain my rage.

...

About two weeks ago, a programmer at Electronic Arts saw my portfolio and gave me his card. He asked me to give him my resume and portfolio, so he could pass it on to his boss. I've been working on that, but I've been dragging my heels, paralyzed by fear that I might be rejected, even with this fellow's endorsement.

Today: No longer.

Today, I finish preparing both, and I will send him both.

Becuase fuck it, I deserve better than this. I'm sure I do.

And in the event that I should get the job, I will take the text of this post, and I will print it. I will append it with the news that I am moving on to my dream job and quitting the security field. I will preface it with a thank you letter addressed to "The crazy woman with the superhuman hearing in apt #1001", and tell her that she has inspired me to move on from this line of work, and that, enclosed, is the path which took me to this decision, and the role which she played in it.

I don't expect a response, but if I receive one, I will be sure to post it.