On her birthday, my neighbor Jenna was having a loud party. Music, shouting, laughter — the whole building could feel it. When she knocked on my door, I honestly thought she might be bringing me cake or maybe inviting me over.

Instead, she asked if I could make my Wi-Fi public so her guests could use it.

I blinked. “Uh… no, sorry.”
I said it politely, gently even. But she frowned, muttered something under her breath, and walked away. I thought that was it.

A minute later, the music stopped. The sudden silence felt… intentional.

Then my phone rang.

It was an unknown number. Someone spoke in a foreign language, laughed, then hung up. Weird, but whatever. I put my phone down.

A few minutes later, it rang again. Different number. Then again. And again.

Soon my phone was blowing up — call after call, all from different numbers, all asking for my Wi-Fi password. Some in English, some not. Some laughing. One of them even asked if they could use my bathroom because the line at Jenna’s was too long.

That’s when the realization hit me:

Jenna had given out my number.
Because I said no.

She expected I’d cave under the pressure.

Well… no.

If she wanted petty, I could speak that language fluently.

So I posted in the local community group chat that Jenna had a “cozy, fully furnished room available for rent at an unbelievably low price — first come, first served. Serious inquiries only.”

Her phone didn’t stop ringing for days. People were practically fighting over an imaginary space in her apartment.

I never heard her music that loud again.

Some neighbors need to learn that being polite doesn’t mean being a pushover — and a simple “no” really should be enough.

Was I harsh? Maybe a bit. But after she crossed the line by giving out my personal number, I’d say my reaction was… proportionate. A little karma never hurt anyone who wasn’t asking for it.