I suspect this is one of those situations that sounds ridiculous on paper but will hopefully make sense to some of you, and ended up being longer than I intended it to he!
I’ve lived in my house over 6 years (first occupant, new build, corner plot, drive way is the turning circle of the cul-de-sac - this is relevant!). During that entire time I’ve left my bin in exactly the same place in my front garden. Because I’m on a turning circle my whole front garden is basically kerbside anyway and rubbish and recycling have been collected from there every week without issue. Refuse, recycling, garden waste, all fine.
Three weeks ago it suddenly wasn’t collected. No note. No communication. Nothing.
I assumed it was just missed. I didn’t report it and just let it go, assuming human error, it happens.
Second week (last week) it happened again. That’s when I reported it and it was eventually collected later that day, so I thought it was sorted. Spoke to a lovely lady, she was as confused as me,
This week the same thing happened again.
I work from home, and the weather has been lovely today so working away with all the windows open, I heard the truck outside and popped my head out of the window just to check my bin had been taken; I was very surprised to see the bin truck using my turning circle driveway to turn and leave my street. My bag was still there, I shouted to the bin man outside my house that he had missed mine ( all other bags in street had been taken) and he shrugged his shoulders at me and carried on moving towards the bin truck. I went outside and asked him why my bin hadn’t been taken. The operative immediately went into raised voice mode telling me it needed to be “at the front of the house” and that “everyone else manages it, and started being very aggressive. He said it needs to be kerbside (which it is as I mentioned, the kerb actually goes down halfway the side of my house due to bloody turning circle!)
Now here’s the thing.
I am a woman in my 40s who raised my two girls on my own, built a career, survived domestic abuse, and have spent most of my adult life just getting on with things because there wasn’t another option.
I am peri-menopausal, permanently tired, still functioning, and I simply do not have the energy anymore for unnecessary power struggles from men who decide today is the day they’re going to try and assert authority over me for absolutely no reason.
Normally I hate confrontation. I avoid complaining unless I absolutely have to.
But something in me just went: absolutely not.
I explained it had been in the same place for six years and nobody had ever told me otherwise and he was perfectly capable of knocking if something had changed. He refused to give his name and just kept repeating that everyone else manages it.
At that point I was so frustrated I picked up the bags myself and put them straight into the back of the truck because frankly it would have taken him less effort to just take it than argue about it.
For the avoidance of doubt, if someone had just explained this normally at any point in the last three weeks, I would simply have moved the spot I place the bin. I’m not difficult and I don’t enjoy making complaints. What I objected to was the tone and the fact this had suddenly become an issue after six years with no communication.
For context I have CPTSD from domestic abuse. I manage my life well, I work, I cope, but aggressive male tone is not something I just absorb quietly anymore. That part of my life is finished.
So yes, I complained. Properly. Reference numbers, email, the works.
One of the refuse managers who rang me today was actually the same lady I had spoken to the previous week when it had been missed twice in a row, and she was just as confused as I was about why this had suddenly become an issue after six years. She was completely apologetic and very reasonable.
She also reassured me that I had done absolutely nothing wrong and that this had effectively already been assessed when they came to collect the previously missed bin. That was quite validating to hear because by that point I was starting to wonder if I’d somehow misunderstood something obvious.
Turns out die to my CPTSD, I qualify for assisted collection (which I genuinely didn’t even know existed). So now they will collect directly from my gate.
Which means the same man now has to walk further to collect my bin than he ever would have if he’d just quietly taken it from where it was.
And yes, before anyone says it, of course I could just start leaving it where he wanted now I know. The point is I should have been told that without being spoken to like I’d done something wrong. Basic communication would have avoided the whole thing.
I won’t lie. There is something quietly satisfying about that.
But the strange thing is, it wasn’t really about the bin.
It was the principle of it. I have spent most of my life just getting on with things, tolerating more than I should have had to, managing situations because I had kids to raise and a life to hold together. That part of me that just absorbs things quietly is still there, but it doesn’t run the show anymore.
These days if someone decides to start an unnecessary power struggle with me, especially over something this petty, they may find they’ve picked the wrong woman on the wrong day.
And the irony is, if he’d just spoken to me normally, I’d have just moved the spot I leave the bin and that would have been the end of it.
Instead he’s now created more work for himself every week.
All over a bin.
AIBI to feel a bit smug regardless?! Although I am full of anxiety at the thought of him being aggressive towards me next week as the manger said she was going to be formally disciplining him.