Last night, around 10 p.m., I was taking out the garbage bins from the side of my house to the curb. As I got to my laneway, my phone pinged and next thing I knew I was lost down the rabbit hole of Instagram. Suddenly I heard a noise and looked up to see my neighbour’s teenage son scratching a car as he walked by.

My phone pinged, he turned, we locked eyes, and he bolted. I went to see the damage done, and there was a distinct scratch on the rear passenger door. I didn’t recognize the car from the many that park on our street daily, and figured I’d see the owner and point it out.

But in the morning, the car was gone. I don’t want to call the police because there’s no evidence, and I can’t prove it was anyone in particular. But something needs to be done.

What do you suggest?

Vandalized

My knee-jerk reaction is that you probably should have called the police last night. Now, unfortunately, there’s no evidence. Unless you took down the licence plate number of the car. Assuming you didn’t, I suggest you call your local non-emergency police line and tell them exactly what you’ve told me. They will know what to do, and how you should proceed.

If you are certain you know who the child is, then a lot depends on that kid. Is he a known troublemaker, or just thought he’d do something risky for the first time? If the police talk to him, and he shows remorse, he’ll probably just get a warning; but if he’s obstinate or rude, he could get himself arrested.

Hopefully, getting “caught” by you may have scared this kid from doing anything like that again.

FEEDBACK Regarding the annoying colleague who often interrupts others (July 8):

Reader – “This may not be the case, but I have ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder). I have the ‘inattentive’ variant. In social conversation, I often feel as though everyone was given a set of rules but me. I’m never sure whether to nod quietly, add my own story, or when to ‘jump in.’ I often start to talk just as someone else is. I never seem to time things correctly.

“The more nervous I get, the worse it seems to be. And the more talkative I get, knowing that most people don't like someone who is super chatty, the more nervous I get, and it starts a vicious cycle.

“I often sense that people don't like me (see rejection sensitivity dysphoria) even if it’s not true. Which drives me to want to be the funniest, the wittiest, etc. Ugh. Sometimes I am, but I don't always do a good job of reading the room first.

“As an increasingly older colleague of increasingly younger staff, I feel somewhat passed by and overlooked. Almost a ‘boomer.’ So, it’s important to me to belong.

“Yes, that someone needs reminding. But maybe off to the side someone should say, ‘we really like having you with us, but I notice you like to talk a lot and sometimes that makes us feel that you don't really want to hear what we have to say.’

“If this person is simply a narcissist, they won’t listen. But with someone who is struggling, like me, or has some other form of social anxiety, it may open up a dialogue and insights into their behaviour. And a humorous way of helping that person stop talking could be used as a cue. For those of us who's social skills suck, kindness will shut us up much faster.”

Reader’s Commentary Regarding a column about distanced siblings (July 6):

“Your columns are helpful and I enjoy them regularly. However, you made a reference to ‘snail mail.’ There is no need to use that hurtful insult. Postal workers deserve as much respect as other workers. Please use ‘postal mail’ or some other polite wording.”

Lisi –First, to all postal workers everywhere, please accept my apology. In no way did I mean my snail mail comment as a hurtful insult. I have the utmost respect for postal workers. (Special shout-out to the one always trying to win over the neighbourhood dogs).

Second, the column was from a woman seeking help with her sibling relationship. The ‘snail mail’ comment was a by-product to the advice I was giving her. But it struck this reader, and caused him pain. And for that, I apologize directly to the reader.

The moral: we all need to choose our words carefully; you never know what will trigger or upset someone.