Today, I stared at the bin in the bedroom. It held trash. Kinda sufficient to empty out into the main bin in the kitchen. Two weeks is about as long as I can tahan without doing something about it, and that shouldn't be me doing the man's job. Finally decided to ask him, "Hey, why didn't you empty the bin?"
The man stopped swiping at the iPad, glanced over and went back to it. "It's still empty."
"It's not." was my reply. "Would you please do that now." It wasn't a request.
He gave this huge exaggerated sigh, got up, walked over, took the bin and looked absolutely puzzled. With no trace of humor, and a tone laced with mild indignation, he asked, "So when would you like to bin to be emptied? When it's a quarter-full, half-full or full-full?"
I blinked. It took 20 seconds for that to sink in. WTF. Damn classic answer. It was SO GOOD that I had to laugh. My exact instructions to him two weeks ago were to "empty the bin please". It didn't contain specifics of time, amount of content or whatever. He interpreted it as exactly that. "Dude! Just bloody empty it each morning on your way out, as long as it holds five visible pieces of trash. That's your job. Don't make it mine."
The man scrunched his face, and stomped to the kitchen with the bin. I suspect he's going to be counting the trash from now on.