Environmental Stories

In my entire life, I never faced any issues in maintaining a pristine shower, until I started living with my spouse, Mike. I've always been conscientious about cleaning our bathroom, giving it a thorough scrub once a week, and rarely needed to do extra apart from the occasional deep clean.

However, recently, I’ve been battling a persistent pink bacterial slime at the bottom of the shower and clinging to our stylish outer shower curtain.

Doing the laundry and handling about 90% of our house chores has always been my department. But, I had to draw the line when I suspected that Mike's habit of urinating in the shower might be contributing to the scum issue. Our shower setup includes just a stall with a curtain, which makes it likely for splashes to end up outside the intended area. Honestly, it wouldn’t irk me as much if it happened in a bathtub, where it’s more contained.

I should clarify, I don’t think there’s anything inherently bad about peeing in the shower. I simply requested Mike, quite politely on multiple occasions, to refrain from doing so, unless he was volunteering for scum-cleaning duty. His reaction has always been defensive, which baffles me—why is such a simple compromise to improve our living space seen as unreasonable?

Is it unjust of me to restrict his ‘shower liberties’ in our stall setup?

Imagine, for a moment, having this issue aired on a reality show. Visualize the debates it would spark, not to mention the potential amusement or horror of viewers worldwide! It certainly puts the topic into a bizarre perspective, pondering if the public opinion would lean towards sympathy for my plight or support for Mike’s restroom freedoms.

What's your take on restricting bathroom habits in shared spaces?

In college, I’m part of a friend group that shares some common acquaintances with another group, which includes a girl we'll call Lisa. Recently, several mutual friends proposed a trip to explore a nearby city, a place I’d never visited before. Although there's a slight friction between our friend circles, I was keen on the trip and decided to join, despite my friends opting out.

Upon reaching the city, our group tossed around ideas for activities, and someone suggested visiting the largest zoo in the country. We agreed but just as we were about to buy tickets, Lisa announced, "Guys, I'm sorry, I don't support zoos,” opting to wait outside instead. Frustrations bubbled as the group wished she had shared this earlier, which could have helped plan activities inclusive for everyone. Consequently, we skipped the zoo and headed to the local shopping district.

Our shopping excursion faced similar setbacks. Standing outside a popular clothing store, Zara, Lisa declared she wouldn't shop there due to its fast fashion practices, which she believed were harmful to the environment. This pattern repeated at several other stores, with Lisa citing environmental concerns each time. Though trying to be understanding, the repetition began grating on everyone's nerves.

The final straw came during lunch. As university students on a budget, we looked for affordable fast-food options. Lisa objected again, this time due to her vegetarianism and environmental reasons against fast food chains. Although I’m also vegetarian and tried to point out that this place offered vegetarian options, it wasn’t enough for Lisa. My patience wore thin, and I snapped, asking her to stop moralizing every choice we made.

Lisa walked away, likely upset, as my outburst didn't sit well with the others either. They criticized my reaction, not bothered as much by Lisa’s repetitive environmental advocacy. Reflecting on it, I can appreciate her intentions, but I was just trying to enjoy the day without constant criticisms of our environmental impact.

Had this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show, the reaction could have been dramatic and widely discussed. Would the audience side with me for seeking a day free from guilt, or would they applaud Lisa’s steadfast commitment to her principles? Reality shows thrive on such conflicts, and the viewers' votes or social media feedback could sway significantly based on their personal views on environmentalism and social etiquette.

Am I wrong here?

It's clear to me that climate change is a genuine issue impacting many around the world. However, I must admit I'm not particularly moved to take action myself. Frankly, the concerns closest to home are what matter most to me. It may sound harsh, but I suspect that's the reality for most people. Why should I disrupt my routine for global issues that don’t seem to impact my immediate environment?

Honestly, I've got my plate full already.

The way I see it, each person values their problems higher than others', and calling someone selfish for focusing on their own life seems unjust to me. Those pointing fingers are often no different; it’s natural to prioritize personal challenges over wider societal issues that might not feel as pressing.

Moreover, changing the course of global issues like climate change should be handled by government policies, not just individual efforts. It's unrealistic to expect one person’s actions to make a significant dent in such a massive problem.

Imagine if I were on a reality show spouting these opinions—how would the audience react? I'd probably be branded the villain of the season, the self-centered contestant with a disinterest in pressing global issues. Viewers might criticize my lack of commitment to environmental causes, leading to heated debates about personal responsibility versus government intervention in social media comments and discussion panels.

Around three months ago, my boyfriend Ethan (26) moved into my house. I'm 25 and we've been together for three years. It's been fantastic, except for one small, yet growing issue.

Being eco-conscious, I avoid wastage and prefer reusing items whenever possible. I shop at zero-waste stores and store my groceries in reusable glass jars. After using items like spaghetti sauce or mustard, I clean the jars to use them again. I've told Ethan that he doesn’t have to clean them; just leaving them in the sink after use would be fine. Also, I keep all cardboard for reuse - be it for grocery shopping, gifting, or storage. Anything that comes in wrap or brown paper, I save to use as gift wrapping.

Ethan is aware of my habits and often expresses a desire to be more environmentally friendly. However, he doesn’t seem to remember to save reusables for me. For instance, while moving, he decided to discard a bunch of old clothes. I planned to take them to a local charity and asked Ethan to bring them home. Yet, they never appeared; he admitted to discarding them in his old apartment's communal trash bin to avoid the hassle.

Recently, when our new vacuum arrived with a lot of cardboard, he tore up and tossed away all the packaging. Practically every time I take out the recycling, I discover items like glass jars that I could have reused, thrown away instead. Just yesterday, after Ethan made lasagna using three glass jars, I found the jars disposed of in the recycling bin, two even shattered. When I confronted him about it post-dinner, reminding him gently to keep these for me, he got upset, accusing me of caring more about the jars than his effort in making the dinner.

I understand we think differently about waste — where I see potential for reusing and recycling, he does not see it immediately. While I know my efforts alone aren't earth-saving, they're significant to me.

Is it really so challenging for him to remember this simple request? How much effort does it take for him to try a bit harder in this aspect?

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, I imagine viewers would be split. Some might sympathize with my frustration over the repeated forgetfulness, while others could argue that I'm overreacting over what they see as trivial matters. The drama would certainly stir up a lively debate among viewers, showcasing different attitudes toward environmental conservation and household harmony.

At 22, I moved to Denver and began sharing a lovely two-bedroom flat with 'Ella'. We instantly hit it off, sharing a love for hiking, local breweries, and concerts. But then Ella attended a sustainability workshop and came back transformed, determined to turn our flat into an eco-haven.

Ella's eco-friendly suggestions quickly began to strain my budget. She proposed installing solar panels on our rented balcony and replaced bottled water with a costly filtration system—even though I only drink from the tap. She banned paper towels in favor of reusable cloths and substituted plastic wraps with pricy beeswax ones from TikTok. Plus, she's now crafting her homemade toiletries and expects me to financially contribute to these initiatives without prior discussion. When I questioned the expenses, she retorted that I was being "financially shortsighted," despite acknowledging the skyrocketing rent in Denver. This disagreement left our friend circle divided, with some saying I’m cheap, while others support my concerns over imposed costs.

Imagine if this whole scenario unfolded on a reality show! How would the public react to Ella's eco-push and my budget woes? Would audiences side with the push for green living, or sympathize with the stress of unexpected financial burdens? Reality shows thrive on conflict, and this situation could stir up all sorts of viewer debates and team hashtags.

Now, about these eco-changes and costs, am I wrong to push back because of my financial limits?

Our children, a 16-year-old girl and a 15-year-old boy, are fervently committed to environmental conservation, a value my husband (41) and I (38) wholeheartedly endorse. We've always embraced the philosophy "use gently and conserve," which we trace back to the ideas promoted by the Roosevelts.

Recently, after returning from a summer camp where a well-known actor emphasized the urgent need to cut carbon emissions by 66% to avert an environmental disaster, our kids' behavior took a sharp turn. Despite his own use of a private jet and multiple properties, his message hit home with them. They became overly aggressive, confronting friends and relatives about their environmental habits, leading our son to vandalize a friend's Mustang as an act of environmental protest.

To curb this growing fanaticism, my husband and I decided to teach them a practical lesson by challenging them to reduce their own carbon footprints by 66% until the start of the school year. We simplified our home energy sources to demonstrate achievable cuts, but even then, they struggled. They now had restricted car use, limited air conditioning, a diet without meat, and minimal use of appliances to truly understand the impact of such a drastic cutback.

The reality of their choices soon hit them, and within two days, they were pleading to return to their normal lives. We explained the hypocrisy of advocating for a lifestyle they themselves couldn't bear to maintain and imposed stricter limitations whenever they criticized others' environmental efforts. Following a particularly public complaint on Facebook about their restrictions, we cut off their internet access, nudging them further towards their emission reduction goal.

This approach has garnered mixed reactions. While many relatives who had been targeted by the kids' criticisms felt vindicated, others, including my mother-in-law and father-in-law, accused us of being harsh and even reported us to family services. Growing up on a farm taught us the value of true grit, and we believe these lessons are crucial.

Imagine if all this were unfolding on a reality TV show! Viewers would likely be split, with some applauding us for teaching a tough lesson in responsibility and sustainability, while others might view us as too severe, creating drama and drawing in a larger audience intrigued by the clash of environmental ideals versus practical living.

I wonder, would being on a reality show change public opinion about our approach?

I'm in my early 20s and just started at a mid-sized tech company in the San Mateo area about 1.5 months ago. The office has around 500 people, and things are mostly going well, except for one annoying issue - single-use EVERYTHING. Styrofoam cups, java jackets, plastic utensils, canned water, you name it. Every day, I see people with those waxy coated paper cups for coffee, water, juice, whatever. These can't be recycled, yet they keep ending up in the recycling bin.

Yesterday, I decided to put up some simple paper signs around the cup area. They said, "Consider bringing your own reusable mug to the office :) These wax-coated cups cannot be recycled. Our reliance on single-use items creates unnecessary garbage and furthers our dependence on plastic." Whenever I passed by the kitchen, I saw people reading the signs and felt super proud of making a difference! But today, when I came in, the signs near the HR area were taken down. So, I printed more. Again, they were removed within 2 hours. Since HR orders all the kitchen supplies, I suspect it's them. I'd talk to HR, but I feel like they're biased since they order this stuff. It's frustrating because, being in the SF Bay Area, we should be held to a higher standard of sustainability, especially as a mid-sized company. You wouldn't find this much single-use garbage in other offices around here.

So, am I wrong for being concerned about our office sustainability? How should I resolve this? Also, what if this was a reality show? Can you imagine the drama? Like, would people root for me or the HR folks? How would the audience react to my efforts to make the office greener?