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Beware False Informants

Living in High Rise Society can be scary.  You never know who can turn you in, for what, and whether or not it’s true.

 “INSPECTOR,” the voice declared in an authoritative tone as he knocked on my friend’s door.

 “WHO?” she called back, figuring maybe it was a neighborly prank because his arrival hadn’t been announced by the doorman in her luxury condo.

“I’m here investigating a complaint,” she finally opened the door to see an official looking stranger with a badge.


“We got an anonymous tip –

“I thought I was living in High Rise Society, not the former Soviet Union,” she thought, but didn’t say.

“About construction going on in your apartment without permits that’s making a racket.”

 “But we’re not doing any construction,” Ms. X responded.  “I mean we thought about doing some work, but we decided against it, and closed the permits, and an inspector even came to inspect, probably someone you know, only I don’t remember his name.”

Since when is thinking about something a crime, she thought and who in her building would be twisted enough to play such mind games.

“It’s just that the complainant was very specific,” the inspector wasn’t convinced.  “The person gave your apartment numbers – 8F and G — and name, even a description of you.”

 This was getting too creepy for comfort.

 “Come see for yourself,” she decided truth was an absolute defense, though she couldn’t understand why she should have to defend against false rumors.

“Thanks,” he followed her through the silent living room and bedrooms, which  displayed not a trace of construction work or workers, making him question the reliability of his source.

“And, finally, the kitchen,” she could see him glancing suspiciously at a hammer lying on a counter top.”

“I use that to pound chicken, not install drywall,” they both laughed.

“Sorry,” he finally realized the error of his tipster’s ways. “It’s just that I gotta investigate, cause what if it’s true.”

Remember what I told you about The Terrorist Next Door.

“I think I know who it is,” Mrs. X told me after the inspector had gone.  “This couple have it in for me. Every time they see me in the elevator, they walk out. It’s gotta be them.”

But knowing the source of false rumors is not the same as defending against them as anyone who’s ever lived among neighbors knows.  So be careful in there and always keep your guard up.

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