I Can't Believe This Is Happening. My Neighbor Has Been Stealing My Wi-Fi for Months.

 

I moved into my apartment last June. You know, the usual routine—set up the internet, named my network, put a password on it, all that. Everything seemed fine. Life carried on.

Then yesterday, my neighbor knocked on my door. Now, I’ve talked to him maybe four times total. He’s a nice guy—mid 40s, wears those zip-off cargo pants that turn into shorts when you need them to, and he’s got a cat named Diesel. That’s literally all I know about him.

Anyway, he’s standing there and says, “Hey, is your internet acting up? Mine’s been pretty slow the last couple of days.”

I said, “Yeah, actually, it has been a little slow too, but I figured it was just the provider.”

He responds with, “Yeah, same. But up until this week, it was really fast.”

And that’s when I felt the pause. Something about the way he said it didn’t sit right with me. So I asked, “Wait, what’s your provider?”

His answer? “Oh, I don’t have my own. I just use yours.”

WHAT.

He said it so casually. Like he was telling me he sometimes borrows my parking spot. “I just use yours.” Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like we’d had a conversation about it. Like it was an agreement.

There was no agreement.

I asked him, “How do you have my password?”

He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Oh, it was on the sticky note on your router the day you moved in. I just remembered it.”

MOVING DAY. He memorized my Wi-Fi password from a sticky note I left on my router while I was unloading a couch—eight months ago. He saw it once, from a distance, remembered it, and has been using my Wi-Fi ever since.

I don’t even remember the password. I have to check that sticky note every time someone comes over. But this guy? He has a better memory of my security credentials than I do.

I asked him how much data he was using. He said, “Not much, just normal stuff.”

“Normal stuff?” I asked.

“Yeah, Netflix, YouTube, my work emails, Diesel’s vet portal.”

HIS CAT HAS A VET PORTAL RUNNING ON MY INTERNET. For eight months, I’ve been subsidizing this cat’s healthcare connectivity. I’m helping to keep Diesel’s vet appointments online, and I didn’t even know it.

Then, this is the part that completely broke me.

He said, “Honestly, you should call your provider. The speed we’ve been getting lately isn’t great for what you’re paying.”

WE. “What YOU’RE paying.”

This man is stealing my internet and then giving me consumer advice about the service. He’s acting like we’re on a family plan. We are not on a family plan. We are not family.

I just stood there. Part of me wanted to be angry, but he was so casual about it that I couldn’t even process the anger. He genuinely seemed to think this was normal. Like borrowing a cup of sugar—but instead of sugar, it’s my entire internet connection for the past year.

So, last night, I changed my Wi-Fi password.

This morning, I get a text from him: “Hey, did you change the Wi-Fi password? The new one isn’t working.”

THE NEW ONE ISN’T WORKING.

He tried to reconnect. He tried. With what password? How did he even guess? Did he just try every possible variation?

I haven’t responded yet. I’ve been staring at that text for six hours. And then there's the guilt. Diesel has a vet appointment on Thursday. Can he even check in online anymore? I’m somehow feeling responsible for a cat’s internet access that was never my responsibility.

He’s a really nice guy. His cat is also very nice. I’m just... losing my mind.