HOA Buried a Fiber Optic Line Across My Yard — So I Dug It Up, Disconnected It, and Sent Them the b скачать в хорошем качестве

HOA Buried a Fiber Optic Line Across My Yard — So I Dug It Up, Disconnected It, and Sent Them the b

The first red flag came on a Tuesday morning — the kind of calm, unremarkable day where the biggest plan was mowing the backyard and maybe finally fixing that wonky fence post by the shed. I was sipping my second cup of coffee, admiring the dew still clinging to the grass, when I saw them: three orange-vested workers stomping across my yard like they owned the place. No knock, no permission, not even a polite “Hey, we’re here to dig up your land.” Just boots, flags, and spray paint. At first, I assumed it was some city utility crew who’d lost their map or maybe misread an address. But as the morning went on, and the digging began—deep, long trenches right through my backyard flower beds—I realized this wasn’t a mistake. They knew exactly what they were doing. And worse? They thought they had every right to do it. One of the workers, a guy chewing gum and ignoring my increasingly sharp questions, finally muttered, “HOA contract. Fiber install. We’re just doing our job.” I hadn’t signed a single thing authorizing that. Not a letter. Not an email. Not a whisper. Naturally, I marched down to the HOA office, all six blocks of fury and confusion, thinking this must be some bureaucratic hiccup. A scheduling mix-up. Surely, they’d apologize, fix it, and we’d all laugh awkwardly at the misunderstanding. But what greeted me instead was Karen. Not a Karen. The Karen. Chairwoman of the HOA, queen of arbitrary fines, and undisputed empress of condescending smiles. Her nameplate read “K. Mendelson,” but everyone in the neighborhood just called her “The General.” Karen had perfected the art of weaponized politeness. “Oh,” she said with that voice that dripped sugar and venom in equal parts, “we sent you a notice about this last month. Check your mailbox.” I told her I had. Repeatedly. And there was no such notice. She waved me off with a thinly veiled smirk and said, “Well, the board voted on it. You should’ve attended the monthly HOA meeting.” The one held on a weekday at 2PM with no digital access? Yeah. That one. Turns out, Karen had pushed through a “Community Connectivity Initiative,” which was a fancy way of saying she’d greenlit burying fiber optic cables for neighborhood-wide internet upgrades—whether residents consented or not. And my yard was apparently ground zero. Disclaimer: The stories on this channel are for entertainment and comedic purposes only. They are fictionalized retellings inspired by online anecdotes and are not based on real people or events. This content is meant to entertain, bring laughter, and highlight absurd situations in a fun and engaging way. We do not promote or encourage confrontational or unethical behavior—just good storytelling and entertainment!