This was a little shocking, as I work with permits for a living and did some proper research before I changed anything. So I gave the city a call. Nope—there's no such thing as a permit for tree removal on private property, and nobody in City Hall sent this letter printed on City Hall letterhead. In fact, there wasn't even a proper tracking number.
They even sent an arborist to assess the damage, whom I turned away. Later, I got a bill for the arborist, which I kept but didn't pay. A phone call confirmed that the arborist did not send me the bill, but for privacy reasons, that person couldn't tell me the name of who did.
When the DIY was finished and I was all moved in, I held an introductory barbecue for my street. I went around inviting people and bringing a cupcake with a little note saying, "There shall be a grand feast, all are welcome," to make friends with the neighbors. I had already scored major credit by raising their property values with a single paint job, so I was pretty happy.
A few people told me I couldn't have a barbecue because it was against the rules of the Collective of Inhabitants. I told them not to worry, since I was not in it.
The next day, I got a bill for membership in the Collective of Inhabitants. This mysterious organization sends out bills without contact info, so I shredded it.
Come the day of the barbecue, at 4:00 PM, my doorbell rings. It's someone in an official-looking City Hall uniform (UM) and a city supervisor—basically a fake cop (FC) who took night school instead of the police academy. They heard I was having an "illegal" barbecue and were there to shut it down.
I asked if they would like to point out which laws I was breaking.
The uniformed man pulled out a 60-page slab of paper and pointed out a rule saying it is illegal to burn anything for any reason in your backyard. The book was labeled Collective of Inhabitants Laws and Rules.
The city supervisor (FC) just stood there smirking.
Me: "That is very nice, but I'm not part of that group, so I don't see how that applies to me."
UM: "The rules apply to everyone in this street."
Me: "Yeah, no, they don't. You cannot just go around inventing laws. Could I have a copy of that book, please?"
I took the sheaf of paper and tossed it onto a table for future reference.
FC: "So I take it you won't have the barbecue?"
Me: "Oh no, I am having the barbecue, and I'm going to make it my personal mission to break another rule every time you bother me. So far, I am two down and three to go."
UM: "This is against the law! I will be calling the cops!"
Me: "No, this is against your rules, not the law. And that is number four."
FC: "Ma'am, if you don't comply, you will be placed under arrest."
Me: "Oh, yes? Shall we call the actual police right now? I wonder who's in the right here."
I took out my phone and called the non-emergency number. Of course, I was put on hold.
UM: "That is not necessary. You haven't heard the last of this!"
They walked away, and I hung up.
Me: "That is five. Have a nice day!"
The neighbors started showing up, pointed out that he was the president of the collective, and jokingly asked which heinous crimes I had committed. I told them I did nothing wrong because I wasn't in the group.
That was when my introductory barbecue turned into a torrent of complaints about the collective. During my "hello neighbors" barbecue, I got to hear all the horror stories: leave your trash can at the street after 8:00 AM—get a fine; put it out before 10:00 PM—fined; have a barbecue—fined; paint your house late—fined. The list went on.
For six hours, people did nothing but complain about the collective, noting that none of the active board members were present at this "highly illegal" party. As it turned out, my house was the only one on the street not in the collective, and I had two other bastions of freedom on the next street over.
Well, I had just moved in, and I owed the collective another four infractions, so I was open to suggestions. Three of my neighbors were extremely fed up and seized on this opportunity, perfectly willing to inconvenience themselves just to be a thorn in the side of the collective. It turns out this nonsense had been going on for about six years.
So here is a little tally of actions—not quite pro-revenge until the end: