No prior notice before showings in my apartment?

As the title states, during my junior year in college I lived in an apartment complex where the landlords didn’t give any prior notice before showings. What they would do is give you a card with all the days and times there could be showings with most of them circled. They always argued this was enough of a notice. I realize it’s illegal, but knew that I’d probably have to go to court to deal with it that way. Another tenant had tried to discuss this with the landlords who told him he was “just a college student and they were a complany. They’d just say they gave notices and they would win.” They also made a snide comment about my partner and I sleeping when they came unannounced one morning.

I started leaving any sex toys or supplies I had out in plain view all over the apartment whenever I left. Vibrators, condoms, a pair of handcuffs… just as uncomfortable as I could make it look. Kept it up for about two weeks. Then, one day, I got a phone call from the landlord. She was informing me of a showing the next day between 2:30 and 3. From then on, I got regular notices for showings.

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Breakfast b***

I would often take the company vehicle out in the morning and pick up Mcdonalds for my office-mates. The drivethru would get pretty busy and sometimes wrap around the building. The entrance to the parking lot was on the corner of the building closest to the drivethru entrance, so to get in line one would have to drive in past the line, pull a u-turn in the lot and get in the back of the line.

One such morning I pull in the parking lot, pass the line and turn around to get in line. After a few minutes I’m up to the corner where the lot entrance is. A minivan pulls in to the lot as I’m inching around the corner, and instead of passing by, sticks its nose in front of my vehicle. This b*tch is now blocking both me and the entrance to the lot, preventing anyone else from entering.

Now, I normally shrug sh*t like that off. I’m normally laid back. Not this morning, for whatever reason. I continue moving forward, trying to prevent her from getting in line. I get as close as I dare, meanwhile the woman driving the van refuses to make eye contact with me. She’s not budging. I have never gotten out of my car while in traffic, but that is exactly what I did. I put it in park, swung my door open and flew out of the truck. The woman saw this and threw up two middle fingers, still not making eye contact. I proceed to yell at her about the common courtesies of parking lot etiquette, interspersed with my opinions on exactly how much of a fucking twat she is. Whatever, she’s not listening. Zero f*cks.

I retreat back to the truck and sit, fuming, moving forward with the line and burning a hole in to the back of her stupid fucking minivan with my eyes. Then, inspiration. She pulls up to the speaker, rolls down her window and pokes her stupid face out of the car. I wait approximately 3 seconds until she begins to give her order, then I just lay on my horn. She shoots me a nasty look and continues trying to order. Horn. Blaring. She shoots me another middle finger. I let off the horn. Wait, there’s more! More horn. It was a solid minute. I can see her obviously trying to yell her order. More horn? You bet. I had to change hands. I started to feel guilty about all the people stuck behind me, so just as I’m about let off, she cuts her wheel and screeches out of the line and leaves. Victory! F*ck that woman.

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Go native or go home.

I’m in line at a popular discount retail store, with two people ahead of me. The women at the head of the line is clearly new to English, and while she has a thick accent and struggles, she does her best to speak to the cashier in English, even though he rolls his eyes and makes her repeat everything several times. Finally, she is able to leave. As soon as she’s out of earshot:

Cashier: “Ugh, they shouldn’t be allowed in our stores until they learn our language.”

The man ahead of me says several things in another language.

Cashier: “Oh, man, not another one. This is America. Learn the language.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed you’d learned Cherokee, since you’re so big on people learning the local language. My mistake.”

The cashier turned bright red and didn’t say another word through the transaction.

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