The Contented Cow Blog

Building Workplaces That Work

The other night, our daughter drove out of the driveway to visit a friend. A minute or two later, the doorbell rang. I figured she had forgotten something (like her house key), and had returned to retrieve it.

It wasn’t our daughter. It was a total stranger, a woman of young middle age, whom I had never before seen in my life. And I could tell it was not a friendly social call.

“Is that your daughter who drives the Beetle?” she demanded, without so much as a greeting or an introduction.

Since I don’t usually identify my children to complete strangers, I asked who she was and why she wanted to know.

Turns out this was our nextdoor neighbor, who had moved in more than six months ago, after our longtime neighbors, Ken and Harriett retired to the Oregon coast.

“Yes, that’s our daughter. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there’s a problem! How about you teach her to drive and to stay off my grass!”

Keep in mind that this is the introductory conversation between two people who had lived nextdoor to each other for more than half a year.

Apparently, our daughter had been slightly imprecise in exiting the driveway, and had driven her car, slowly, over a few inches of grass adjoining the driveway, which is 18 inches inside our property line.

Nevermind that the trampled grass was, in fact, ours, and not hers. And nevermind that the “damage” was so slight as to have already restored itself in the 3 minutes that had elapsed between her running over it and my “neighbor” dragging me out to examine it, flashlight in hand.

Here’s the point. This woman moved in six months ago, and I had never seen her, let alone met her. She’s completely entitled to, and in fact, most welcome to, her privacy. Some would say she’s been the ideal neighbor. We’ve never heard a sound from her house. She hires a service to maintain her lawn (and, per her instructions, not to mow an inch of our property). Until that night last week, she had been absolutely no trouble at all. Everyone in the neighborhood simply assumed she was in the Federal Witness Protection Program, and left it at that.

However, comma, because she has invested nothing in the relationship with her nextdoor neighbors, she has yet to earn the right to show up on my doorstep and rip me a new one over my daughter driving over our grass, near her lawn.

Had this been Ken or Harriett, that would have been different. Over the years, we’ve broken bread together, been to family weddings, grieved over the loss of parents, brought in each other’s mail and newspapers, and griped over the backyard fencepost about the other neighbors’ kids.

Had Ken or Harriett brought up an issue, their words would have landed with much more influence than those of this stranger who, having made no deposits in the neighbor relationship now wants to exact a withdrawal of considerable value.

At work, and in life, be sure to do the things – often little things – that are necessary to invest in the relationships with those around you. Before correcting someone, be sure you’ve been an encourager. Before asking for a favor, be sure you’ve done one first.

And before blessing out your neighbor of six months during your first encounter, be sure you’ve at least shown your face and waved over the backyard fencepost. At least once.

Merry Christmas. Peace on earth to men, and women, of goodwill. And to cranky neighbors.

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