The bible says to love thy neighbor, but I was looking for something more casual.

I just wanted the modern neighbor relationship, where we pretend to be friends so we can justify asking each other for favors.

But as an inexperienced neighbor, I was unsure where to start.

When my next-door neighbor moved in, I decided, boldly, to simply knock on his door and introduce myself. 

A bearded man answered. His name was Greg. We chatted for a few minutes and I welcomed him to the neighborhood and we exchanged phone numbers. 

“Once I finish getting settled in, we should get together and grab a drink or something.” he said.

“Yeah, definitely.”

It was a perfect start. 

I had no intention of actually grabbing a drink, and I don’t think he did either. 

But now, we could both tell ourselves, “Yeah we’re friends. We are going to grab drinks sometime soon. It’s no big deal to trust him with my spare key.”

And by saying, “Once I finish getting settled in,” he left a ton of ambiguity around the timing of this drink. He’ll never be fully settled in. Nobody is ever fully settled in. 

Brilliant.

A few days passed, and Greg texted me asking if I had a ladder he could borrow. 

I carefully crafted my response.

“Ya sure. I can leave it out on my driveway for you to grab.”

This way, I could casually leave the ladder on the driveway for him to grab at his convenience, eliminating the need for us to actually see each other and converse. 

I decided to wait 20 minutes and then hit send. 

I carried the ladder to the driveway, and Greg met me outside.

“What is he doing?”  I thought to myself as he approached, “Why isn’t he waiting until I’m back inside?”

“Thanks so much,” he said as he grabbed the ladder. 

I smiled, “Yeah of course.”

And then my neighborly instincts kicked in and I added, “Do you need any help with anything?”

I had already started back towards my house in anticipation of the, “Oh, no, I should be good.” that would surely come out of Greg’s mouth. 

But that’s not what came out at all. 

Instead, he said, “Honestly, if you have a minute, yeah that’d be great.”

He must have noticed the exasperated look on my face because he added, “Just for a second, if you could hold the ladder while I change out this flood light.”

What choice did I have? I held the ladder, and Greg changed the bulb. 

It was a small ask, but for some reason I was a bit perturbed by it. 

If he was asking me to hold a ladder on day 4 of living next door, what else would he ask for? 

Was he going to text me every time he had to climb something? Was this a job I was going to have for the rest of my life, Greg’s spotter?

No one ever holds the ladder for me when I climb. Because I don’t need it. I’m not going to fall. As far as I’m concerned, the only people who fall off ladders are dads in Christmas movies.

Greg finished changing the light and thanked me for my help. 

“I’m almost settled in, so we’ll grab that drink soon,” he said, “And the first round is on me!” 

I smiled and gave a thumbs up as I walked back home.

I appreciated the gesture, but I understood what was really going on. Greg felt indebted to me since I held the ladder, and buying me a drink would pay off his debt. 

There was only one way to fix this. I had to ask a favor from Greg that was on par with the ladder hold.

I was driving home later that night when I had the perfect idea. I’d leave a light on in my car overnight to kill my battery, and then ask Greg to help jumpstart my car. 

An easy ask, a reasonable ask, and one that would leave Greg feeling like a hero; feeling that his debts were paid. 

The next day, when my car was dead, I texted Greg, “Hey man, do you have a min? My car won’t start, I could use a jump.”

And I waited. 

A few hours passed with no response from Greg. 

I began to worry. His car was in the driveway; I knew he was home. 

I gave it another hour or so, then decided to knock on Greg’s door. 

No answer. 

Now, I was desperate. I need to have a car to be able to go to work. I genuinely needed help. 

So I walked one more house over, and knocked on their door. 

A tall, bald man answered. I began to introduce myself and explain my situation, when over this man’s shoulder I saw him. He was sitting on the couch in the living room with a drink in one hand, and his iPhone in the other. Greg. 

My heart sank. 

How could this be?

The bald man said he couldn’t help, because he drove a Tesla, and the jump wouldn’t work on a non-EV or something, but I hardly even heard him explain. My world had just been turned upside down.

I left, feeling stranded, alone. Betrayed. 

Greg was MY neighbor. 

It was ME who held his ladder, not this bald asshole with the Tesla. And Greg was having drinks with HIM? 

What happened to getting “settled in”. 

“Forget it.” I texted Greg, “Got it under control.” I lied. 

He responded about 30 minutes later. 

“So sorry I missed your text, been a busy day.” 

I didn’t respond. 

And then 10 minutes later another text came through.

“You won’t believe it but my flood light is still giving me issues. Any chance I could borrow your ladder again?”

I brought the ladder out to the driveway, then returned inside. 

“On driveway.” I sent dryly. 

I saw Greg through my window as he picked up the ladder. 

My phone buzzed.

“Do u have a sec to hold it again?”

I rolled my eyes and put my phone away. The audacity of this guy!

Greg stood outside for a few minutes, before deciding to go ahead and climb without me. 

I watched him unscrew the bulb, and as he pulled it out, a spark shot out at him from the socket. 

The ladder tipped backwards, and in almost slow motion, Greg fell flat on his back. 

I sprinted outside. 

“Are you ok?” I yelled.

“I think I broke my leg.” He croaked. “Will you take me to the hospital?”

I helped him up, and let him put his arm around me for support as he limped over to my car. 

But then I remembered the battery situation.

Shit. 

And to make matters more complex, Greg thought that I had the battery taken care of. It would be super awkward to admit that I lied about that.

So I had no choice but to act as if it was fixed. I laid him down in my back seat, and pretended to try to start the car.

“Come on,” I muttered, as I played my role.

I pushed the button again.

“Shit! It won’t start again.” 

I really sold it with my “Shit!”, in a performance that came across as genuinely surprised and annoyed at the same time.  

Greg groaned and writhed in pain. 

“Stay here,” I instructed, as if he had any other choice, and I ran down the street, back to the bald guy’s house. 

Baldie answered the door, and I explained the situation. He sprung into action. He sped over to my house in his Tesla, where I helped load Greg into the backseat. 

Baldie took off, leaving me behind to process what had just happened. 

That evening, my friend Carl came over and jumped my car. He recommended that I visit Greg in the hospital. I felt guilty about what had happened, so I agreed it’d be a good neighborly deed to go check on him.

I arrived at the hospital and asked the nurse to direct me to Greg’s room. 

“Sorry sir, but he’s not taking visitors right now. He’s still settling in.”