Dear Garbage Man (Waste Disposal Technician?),
I am afraid of you. The sound of your tank (or “truck” as you call it), strikes fear and panic in my heart.
Before you arrive, peace and serenity are mine. After you leave, all I am left with are hysterical siren wails coming from my baby’s room.
I know that you have a hard, tiring, thankless, and probably often smelly job- but do you think that you could do it a bit quieter?
The Woman Who Glares At You From Her Window
P.S. You seem to have dropped some garbage on my sidewalk…