The neighbors from Bahnhofstrasse 24 have had a Whatsapp group since Corona.
This was especially useful in the first lockdown when everyone started baking.
Or when someone forgot his chandelier in the elevator.
Until the day a new neighbor sent a picture to the group.
That should change everything forever.
“I don't know how it works in Germany,” she wrote under a recording that showed empty flower boxes and all sorts of paper trash in the hallway.
"But maybe we should get some new garbage cans."
It didn't take a minute for the first reaction. “Who was that ??” asked neighbor B., who had not yet distinguished himself in the group. Was he the anonymous author of pamphlets like "Paper belongs in and not on the bin" or "Why is the bike here?", Which at times made the information board in the hallway look like the billboard of a multiplex cinema? It was, and he was just getting started. The neighbor tried to make it clear that she hadn't wanted to embarrass anyone, but by then the tirade had already taken its course.
The garbage cans had always been a stumbling block.
The innkeeper took care of them on the ground floor.
Except that he was rarely in the house during lockdown times.
So while some residents of the house, with an eye on the waste calendar, put out the bins themselves, B's contribution consisted solely of complaining in writing if that didn't happen.
Complaints now always and everywhere
B. is the classic complainer: he doesn't do anything, he admonishes. When he was still busy with paper and pen, the other residents were safe from his surges, at least in their apartments. But with digitization, he has found a new stage. He now reaches his audience around the clock - even on vacation. If you take it with humor, you will be rewarded with crazy dialogues. For example this one: “Who always leaves the double door open?” - “The bolt is loose.” - “Okay. But who always lets them open? ”-“ That happens by itself. ”-“ It would be great if not everyone could get into the house. I agree."
The Nörglers' play reached the last act for the time being with the reopening of the outdoor catering. How could the restaurateurs, who hadn't taken care of the garbage for all these months, now dare to dance wildly? "Greetings to the gastro neighbors," wrote B. on one of the first warm summer nights. “I hope you have a unique reason to celebrate and don't yell around here every night.” The restaurant neighborhood, trained in dealing with difficult guests, replied well rested the next afternoon: “Thank you! We have accepted your greeting and greet you back warmly. "