I used to live in a mine house at the bottom of a long street. The problem was not the house or the street but the trees. At certain times of the month the trees were decorated with beer cans and mainly of a certain popular brand.
At night it was interesting how the light reflected off the cans when a car passed. When the wind blew it was even more interesting when the cans were blown off the trees. Somebody had to pick them up and post them in a trash can. That somebody was becoming rather irate besides there is no deposit on empty cans.
It was decided to investigate the origins of these tins. In the interim my garden set comprising a table and 4 chairs saw their hind-end. Further it was noticed that the houses closer to the shops were less prone to this beer-in-the-tree-syndrome. At the other end of the street it was discovered that the tins were on the ground because there were no trees. At this end there was a mine and a hostel for workers.
It took about another week to relate workers to a popular brand of beer. I also drank beer but used a different brand and therefore the trees had none of my cans dangling like X-Mass lights. The heat was on and the law knew no bounds.
About another week later it was noted, surreptitiously, that passing workers were throwing the empty tins into the trees. It was a game to get it stuck up there. Further, it was calculated that it takes about 500metres to empty a tin of beer… so according to the statistics my house is the average drop-off point.All the cans were removed and after a week, or so, they were back again.
The gauntlet was thrown: that night I phoned the general manager of that mine and told him our story and his reply was it is my problem. I wanted to collect the tins and fill black rubbish bags and unload them at the hostel entrance.The manager was also informed that we are prepared to take our own action too.
Some days later I was summonsed to my own general managers office. I entered on command and was greeted by the manager.
I was told that I had been under observation for some time because I was part of a right-wing group. I nearly wet myself I laughed so hard while the manager glared at me officially. I was asked what was I going to do anyway. He was informed that the tins would be returned from whence they cometh.
I was politically told that my option could increase tension in that area.The manager promised firing me if I do that. When I eventually got home with a dikbek my wife casually mentioned that someone had come to collect the cans in the entire street with a truck.
My solution: I trimmed all the tin-catching branches very short so that they cannot catch tins;. The garden set remained missing. The mine in question has closed down since then.
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