Thursday, 6 December 2012

Mothballs and The Soldering Shop

With every new building comes 'that tenant' and he (or she) usually nominates themselves pretty damn fast. I am not talking about the shit tenant or crackhead tenant or even the dirty tenants....I'm talking about the tenant that bitches about EVERYTHING. Lights are too bright in the hallways. I can hear the toilet flush from the person who lives above me. There was someone smoking on the sidewalk and the wind blew it into my window. It is not hot enough. It is now too hot in my apartment. Can you vacuum my baseboard heaters. The old manager didn't fix this. I pay $600 a month ($250 under-priced) for a premium apartment and I want it to be like Buckingham Palace. Lucky me, this was the first 'new' tenant I met.

This guy has a list of complaints a mile long and feels the need to share it with me the second I meet him. He also feels the need to put me at #1 on his speed dial so he can remind me on a daily basis of things he wants me to deal lightening speed. Unfortunately for him, these 'issues' that he has are bottom of the barrel random maintenance problems that do not need to be fixed with any urgency. So, my phone is constantly ringing off the hook from this guy and the minute I step foot in the building he comes running. I guess I shouldn't feel too bad as he has the city police on speed dial too and apparently calls them if someone farts too loud to complain about noise.

He lets me know his bathroom fan isn't working at perfection. I humour him, and get the hubby to pull it out and fix it thinking that if I do one thing on his list, he will shut the fuck up for a couple weeks. The problem is you can not buy parts for the old fan so you need to buy new part and modify them. This isn't an easy process and can take a couple hours. We tell him we will give him a call when we find the parts and its ready to go back in...expect a week or so.

So, of course that does not satisfy him and he calls almost daily to ask about his fan. Finally, I have had it. He picks the wrong day when I am in the middle of dealing with five thousand other things to call again. "Hello Dino, this is xxx. I need to talk to you about another problem I have: silverfish". Now, silverfish a like to a housefly or spider. They are everywhere. Every building has them due to age and environment but there is no impact to life. I see them every so often in our bathtub at night, but they don't bite...munch on things like dust or drywall at such a low impact that is not noticeable. I roll my eyes as he goes on and on and on about these damn silverfish. He wants me to spray. Spraying is very expensive and usually doesn't solve the problem and usually you need to do a whole building which is a HUGE impact to the other tenants and the bank.

My solution? I told him to buy mothballs. Do they work? Who knows...and really, who cares. What is my goal? To make his tiny-ass apartment stink of mothballs along with all his belongings. I told him to go to the dollar store and buy a couple boxes and sprinkle them around the place. He continues and asks about his damn fan. I explain to him again that it is being worked on and as the words are coming out of my mouth I am trying to think of some bullshit reason the hubby can't go put it in that second (you need to work yourself up to go work in his place). The fan is at the soldering shop! Yes, it is at the soldering shop to be modified and we will have it back in 2 days for installation. He is blown away by how seriously I have taken this fan-modification. I am brilliant.

So now buddy is tickled pink sitting an apartment that REEKS of moth balls while his bathroom fan is in the soldering shop.

Win for me!

The Sad Sack

So, we took over a new building at the end of August that had a live-in caretaker. His contract was terminated upon acquisition as there was no need for him once we were present. He was given proper notice by the previous owners of the building and we (new owners and us) decided to do the nice thing and allow him to stay for the month of September for free. Although the guy had to go, I did feel a little bad that he was losing his job and house within a month.

Sad Sack is in his late 40s, maybe early 50s, boring, meek, a little slow, and all around pathetic. He and I had a few interactions in the first few weeks to go over some paperwork, collected building keys, and to discuss his future. I already had an idea that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed after having to pick up the pieces of the pending arbitration case in the previous blog post so I wasn’t expecting he would provide much help or information regarding the function of the building and tenants within it. He has failed to sign tenancy agreements with 21 out of the 28 units, ever given a proper notice, and literally let the people living in the building do whatever they wanted to do. I had no information on where people are parking, personal belongs were stuffed all over the building, only a few phone numbers, people paying ridiculously low rent, and a number of less-than-desirable people milling around.

 I started to probe Sad Sack in regards to his future as I needed to know if I had to rent his apartment for the following month. Every time, his answer was, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it”. Great.  So I pushed him a little. I needed him to make a decision: Stay, or Go. Stay and sign a proper tenancy agreement at a rate that is at market value or give me your notice that you are moving.

He had phoned the building owner behind my back to ask if he could stay on and work at the building. Owner phones me to tell me about it and we have a bit of a chuckle. What is it with these people thinking they can go over my head? My owners give me carte blanche. I work hard and I am good at what I do. They love me.

So I see him the next day and gently remind him that I am at the top. You can’t go past me. I have final say on everything. He shrugs his shoulders. I push him again, “What are your plans?” It is now almost the end of the month so I am not going to be renting the apt should he decide to leave last minute. I go over his options again and he stares at me like I have a fucking horn growing out of my head. Do you know how hard it is to have a conversation with someone who is clearly read at a grade 4 level?

I ask him if he wants to stay for October and pay rent so he can have more time to think. It is hard to be a bitch to someone so pathetic. Fine. He pays, and I keep asking what the plan is. Nothing. And, more nothing. I have had enough. I tell him, “make the decision or I will do it for you.” “Do what you have to do then.” So I draw up all the paperwork to give him a 1-month notice to end his tenancy based on termination to his employment contract. Standing at his door, I ask him one more time if he would like to sign an agreement and he said that he needs more time….again. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. All of a sudden some lady pops up from behind the door announcing that, “Mr. Sack is an intelligent man and weighing his options.” I stifle my laugh and say, “umm, okay” as I look around to seen half a dozen tenancy branch papers stacked on his kitchen table. AWESOME! You are going to try to fight this. I know my shit…he hasn’t got a leg to stand on. I hand him the eviction papers and leave as I hate having to dumb-down my language for too long when talking to people.

I hear nothing for a few weeks except a few tenants who have told me how creepy Sad Sack is and how he just hangs out and stares at people. Our random interactions get less and less friendly until I just ask, “So, Sad Sack…are we going to be dealing with this in arbitration?” He says, “no” and I ask him if he phoned the branch to clarify that everything I told him was legit and he needed to GTFO. He said, “yes”, and I told him I am going to start showing his apt.

Fast forward to a couple days ago. End of the month time, his apt has been rented to a new tenant, and he is packing when I run into him going into a closet that is ‘building’ property. I take a quick look at his keys and realize that he never surrendered ALL the building keys back in Sept and that he still has a master key. Awesome. I make note of it for when we have out final interaction. At check-out time I was waiting around as he was slow (shocking) and running behind. I start to inquire about keys, garage remote, forwarding address (in case I need to take him to arbitration post-move out) and he starts to get an attitude. I am in no mood. Grid and I have had a very intense last two months in our personal and work lives and I am in no mood to deal with Sad Sack’s bullshit.

He announces he is not returning the garage remote without me handing him $40 right then and there. That’s not how it works. I don’t give money out of pocket to tenants for deposits they have paid for anything, especially without a receipt. They get a proper cheque mailed to their forwarding address from the account for the building. I tell him this and he says he isn’t giving it back if that’s the case. I say “fine, do what you want” and I walk away. I am done. I have spent 3 months dealing with Sad Sack and his shit show. I am done being nice, feeling bad for him, and dealing with the shitty tenants he rented to. So, I call my henchman Gridlock. “Deal with this”.

Grid flies down to the building happier than a pig in shit as he loves this stuff. I take off to do more building errands and eagerly await updates by text. After watching Sad Sack dumb around for another hour, Gridlock finally tells him that’s enough, no more, time is up, lets end this.

Gridlock: “Alright, Sad Sack, can I have the keys?”

Sad Sack hands over the keys for the apt and lobby door.

Gridlock: “All the keys, Sad Sack. Dino saw you with a master key the other day which, by the way, you were supposed to hand over months ago and clearly didn’t.”

Sad Sack gives a defeated look and hands over the keys as Gridlock says, “You really didn’t think we’d let you keep those, did you?”

Gridlock: “And now, the garage door remote”.

Sad Sack loses his shit and refuses to hand it over. Apparently this is the sword he chooses to die on- the fucking garage remote. He wants the $40…this is all bullshit…he will take it with him…blah blah blah. Grid stand there listening and simply says, “Sad Sack…you don’t really think I am going to let you walk out of here with access to the building and compromising security seeing as you just tried to steal the master key?!”


Gridlock: “We have actually treated you well”

Sad Sack: “BULLSHIT!” and slams down the garage remote.

Gridlock: “Really!? Let’s make sure we are crystal clear. We have not screwed you over. You lost your job before we even took over the building. You were never part of the plan. You were fired before we knew who you were and to BE NICE we allowed you to stay rent FREE for a month to give you time to get things together. You took advantage of that by doing NOTHING! We offered you to stay here as a tenant, sign an agreement, and not lose your house.  We gave you the offer to leave without official 30-day notice. We offered you every opportunity to make the choice and you did not want to pay market value for the apartment. This isn’t a ‘bid your own rent’ building! It is a business. We didn’t push you out, you pushed yourself out.”

Sad Sack: “You evicted me!”

Gridlock: “Don’t think for one second that we evicted you. You evicted yourself. It was YOUR choice. You have had 3 months and to show you that we are STILL being nice, it is December 3rd and we are still standing here! You were supposed to be out 3 days ago.”

Silence. He had nothing to say. He can go on about how we were horrible and his crazy lady-friend can sit there and feel bad for “Mr. Sack” while shooting me dirty looks, but we don’t. We had no choice. I couldn’t allow anyone to live in a building with no tenancy agreement and to have never paid a damage deposit. It just can’t happen.

He grabbed the last of his things and slowly slithered like the sad sack he is. At one point I did feel bad for him but, he had every opportunity to avoid this. He had been offered job at other buildings but never followed up. He never looked for another apartment. He honestly just thought I would go away and have some random person live in my building who had a set of master keys, access to everyone and everything, and pay whatever rent he saw fit.

So, another one bites the dust. 

Friday, 28 September 2012

Filthy F*ckers

If there is a trend in our stories, its this: people keep a low profile and succeed for awhile at it, but eventually, your profile spikes, and I'm waiting for you. And suddenly, you are presented with your history in the building. And I can be incredibly detailed.

And you move.

They had been in the building for about 20 years. I honestly can't tell you when their brains moved out, but I think it was a long ass time ago. He is a weird looking guy-rather intense, but he was there enough to 'get it' so to speak. He noticed the changes in the building. He was asking questions in the direction of "my time here is limited". She was a fucking goner. Ding dong! Nothing's home upstairs. Honestly, I don't want to mock too far, as it may have been some type of industrial accident that caused brain damage instead of super powers. Ok, so that was mocking. Whatever, it might have been inbreeding, and I'm ok with that.

One day, he stops and gets a concerned look on his face as he asks Dino, "hey, you were an archaeologist, right?"


"so, what are your thoughts on the lost city of Atlantis?

Oh shit buddy. We just had to add you to the ABM list. Done. There's no coming back from that.

Sidebar: The ABM List.

ABM stands for "Always Be Moving" Actually pre-dates the buildings, as I invented the term when I met an old neighbor at a dumpy building and she had no teeth and would start going off on any old story that seemed important to her. So basically, if you are always moving, they can't pin you down and ask you random crap.

She did the finances for the pair, and after living here for 20 years, do you think she'd ever be able to fill out a check without an error? Not once. She knew to initial everything, but you'd see a little "FF" on every check. The change in year would throw her off until June.


Oh, and they smell. Did I mention that? In three years, I never figured out what the cause of the smell was. As, I could ever so subtlety say, "Hi! Great to see you. Well kind of. While we are having a conversation about general items, would you mind upping your shower regimen to twice a month?" or perhaps, "hey! Have you heard of the Crest line of teeth care products?" or even a "Hey! You are the 1 millionth person to enter the front door. Here's a bottle of Mr.Clean. Directions are on the bottle. Oh yeah, that is super nice of me. It was completely random." But I never figured it out. It just smelled like...them. And it was bad.

I should also mention that their apartment looks like a flop house. They've trashed the floors, the walls are gross and dirty-just bad.

So, already, and I don't know if this is coming across...I wouldn't shed a tear if they left.

So smelly dumb folk. And that's the way it went. Then they got bedbugs.

Oh yay! Smelly dumb people with a pest control problem. F'ing brilliant.

So we sprayed, and then a neighbor got bedbugs. Check their apartment again, and yes they have them.

So we sprayed again, and then another neighbor got bedbugs. Checked their apartment and found them...again.

Their sofa, which was now the primary choice for sitting, eating, and sleeping, was teaming with them.

And they said they never saw anything. At this point, I'm furious. So the plan was put in motion. In a vote of 4-2, they were to be evicted from the Big Brother House.

So I go in, and I tell them, again, that they have bedbugs. I tell them that their sofa is full of them. Furthermore, the last pest guy told them explicitly that they needed to get rid of the sofa.

"Well, we can't really afford to go and buy a bed, but if you say we need to get rid of the sofa, then we'll get rid of it"

"Well, at this point, you can do whatever you want. Because I'm done. We aren't spraying this apartment anymore with you in it. You have two options. One, I can evict you, and I have that form right here prepared. You can choose to fight it, but please be aware that I don't do these things lightly. And I'm very good at what I do. I will win. At that point, anyone that calls for a reference will be told why exactly you are leaving, that it is an eviction, and that it is for non-compliance with bedbug eradication procedures. That will make your apartment search...exhaustive.

Or, you can choose to leave, at which point, I'll feel compelled to say that you gave notice to leave, and we'll end the conversation there."

It only took me 5 minutes to have a signed letter in my hands. I guess they got it after all.

Friday, 14 September 2012

The Record Holder

When we take over a new building, it usually takes a few months for the problem tenants to nominate themselves to the this case, it only took 8 hours.

We took possession of the building on the 31st of the month. That day was mostly spent meeting with the ex-building manager, looking over paperwork, handing out notices, meeting tenants, collecting keys, and general 'switch over' duties. I had also heard that there was a pending arbitration case with the tenancy board, so I made sure that all the paperwork and information was correct as I would be taking over the case.

It was a simple case; tenant made partial payment for rent 2 months prior and had not paid rent since. The previous manager had told me this guy was a 26 year old self-entitled punk who had several noise complaints against him on top of not paying rent, and loved to confront his neighbours when they complained. Awesome. I had all the info that I needed and within the next few days was going to make contact with him to let him know I was taking over the case and to 'feel' him out. Fortunately (or, unfortunately), about 4 hours after acquisition, he phoned me. Right off the bat, I could tell that the previous managers description of him was pretty damn accurate. He tried to control the situation, talked a lot of shit about the old manager, told me random irrelevant stories about the building, him being 'friends' with everyone, and, of course, the reason he 'refused' to pay rent: he claimed that the old manager had entered his apartment without permission and he was withholding it to prove a point....ya, whatever.

I gave him a proposal: Come up to date with his outstanding rent and pay rent the following day (the 1st) for the next month's rent and I would wipe the slate clean. It should be noted that taking over an arbitration case is never a good thing, especially when the previous manager is a fucking idiot (and this guys was a MAJOR fucking idiot). You need to put a lot of faith in the fact that it was done correctly...papers were served correctly, forms were filled out properly, and that the claim is actually valid. I was on the fence about taking over the case, but really did not have another choice as it had already been filed.     

He had told me over and over that money was not the issue, he was rolling in money, and it WAS just to prove a point. I HIGHLY recommended that he take my proposal as he really did not have a case. A judge was literally going to ask him one question: did you pay rent? He says, "no", and the case is closed. He said he would think about it. Conversation went fairly well, I could tell the dude LOVED to talk and he very much thought he was right. I reiterated the fact that I run building very differently and that any problems he had with past managers, he would not have with me.

Later that night, my phone rings. It is the tenant next to him who tells me that buddy next door has his music cranked and will not turn it down. He continues to tell me his ongoing issues with they guy...I listen...attempt to mitigate...tell him I'll take care of it. I phone buddy for a 'friendly' "Hey! How is it going? I have had some complaints about music, would you mind just turning it down a bit...its a wood frame building...noise travels...blah blah blah". Yeah. Not so much. Dude literally loses his shit within 2 seconds of me talking. He is talking in circles about people in the building, "his rights", the asshole ex-manager, the dude down the hall who has people over some times, etc...literally anything he can think of to, shit that happened months ago. Clearly this guy is drunk/high as he is slurring his words and just going nuts. It escalates and turns into him swearing at me and calling me names (which, honestly, never effects me) and telling me to call the cops because, "they won't care because I am friends with them". Ya dude, I'm sure you are.

I hang-up on him as I am starting to lose my cool and call the neighbour back. I tell him to call the cops if it continues, explain the upcoming court case, and ask him to be patient. Two mins later I get a call from another tenant telling me that buddy is in the hallway screaming and pounding on doors. There goes my night.

I get to the building in about 5 mins and confront him. Now, although I have talked to the dude on the phone, this is my first time seeing him. A 5'2" little tattooed roid monkey answers the door. I try my best not to laugh. We start going at it, him circling again, tells me he is a boxer, and trying to direct the conversation. He calls me arrogant, a fucking bitch, condescending, and anything else he can manage to put together in his coked out drunk stupor. The whole thing literally ends with him telling me he is going to win in court, he is never going to leave, I am wrong, he knows everything, then he tries to start a physical fight with someone else who was there, and then finally he retreats to his apt. I tell everyone to phone the police should he start again.

I hear nothing for days and soon the court date is upon us. I half expect him to not show, but he does in all his cocky self-entitled glory. I can tell from the get-go that buddy thinks he has this nailed down, no problem, he is going to win. Oh, how deluded they can be some times. Case lasts about 10 mins with the one question asked by the judge: did you pay? "no". That was pretty much it...he got pretty agitated while trying to bring up irrelevant shit and the judge shut him down pretty quickly and practically called him an idiot. Again, it was hard not to laugh. Judge rules an order of possession that takes effect 48 hours after it arrives in the mail. I debate contacting him to see what he is planning on doing. I fully expect him to continue the fight, as he is totally "right". Turns out, hours after the judge ruled, he packed up all his shit quietly and slipped out like the little pussy he is. He even cleaned the apartment.

Made my job easier. If it wasn't for the fact that he is the record holder for putting himself on the shit-list within 8 hours of taking over the building, this dude would have been easily forgettable. It did make for some immediate entertainment though.

Monday, 16 July 2012

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year...

That's right folks! It's apartment inspection time!

We try to do this once a year to discourage monthly/weekly/daily complaints about non-emergency or random maintenance problems like a closet sticking or a small drip from a faucet. We group issues together and knock down the list when we are slow. To be honest...we don't really care. Let's be honest, the fact your closet doesn't open smoothly enough for you liking has no impact on my life....having a meth lab in your closet does. 

We are in the middle of a losing battle: tenants smoking pot in the building. Everyone gets the same speech. We don't want to see it, smell it, or suspect it. Go for a walk. A long walk. I don't want to stand on my balcony and see you standing on the sidewalk below rocking is like you are at a Grateful Dead concert. This shit is still illegal, it stinks, and it affects your neighbours. So, in the last few months, the smell of pot has increased. Solution? Inspection under the guise of looking for maintenance problems. Go us!

The downfall of not being totally honest with our tenants about the reason for this inspection are the laundry lists left for us or verbalized TO us as we enter everyone's apt. About 70% of our building are people that we have put in. They are, for the most part, in their late 20s and early 30s, professional, clean, responsible, respect us, and are all sitting in renovated apartment. None of them have any complaints or maintenance issues and none of them were suspected of doing any illegal activities in their suites. We go in, shoot the shit, reiterate the drug policy of the building and move on. These people are a pleasure to deal with and are desirable to all building/property managers. As for the remaining 30%? Not so much.

Everyone seems to think that the Gen-X or Gen-Y, or even the Gen-Z, generations are full of whiny, needy, selfish people who blame everyone else for their problem. I am not going to totally deny that, but in our experience, these people are great renters. If we are sticking with this gen-alphabet scenario, Gen-W (currently aged 40-50...maybe 55) renters are self-entitled whiny bitches. They tend to drink a little more, don't seem to have a problem with doing laundry in their underwear, don't understand this thing called a 'computer', and their biggest thrill in life is solving the final puzzle on Wheel Of Fortune every night. They all pay below market value (an entirely different problem), have shitty furniture, and none of them appear to own a mop and bucket.

These people leave is lists of complaints! Like....lists and lists. You name it, it is on it. Shit that they fucked up themselves is on there - yes, one tenant who decided to paint their walls got paint on their ceiling...I guess that is my problem now. There were complaints that the flooring is not even (the building has settled since it was built 50 years ago)! Yes....let me get on that for you...let me re-level the building's foundation so you can continue to pay $800/month for your apartment ($350 below market value)! Along with these absurd issues, some tenants seem to think that it is our responsibility to clean their apartment. We had 3 tenants (within that 30%) tell us that their curtains are dirty...either from cat hair (their cat) and/or dust/grime (from them not cleaning). Adding to this, one tenant told me that her oven needs to be replaced because it is dirty. Umm, every heard of oven cleaner, honey? It brings me great joy to crack out, "actually, it is the responsibility of the tenant to clean and maintain a level of cleanliness of their rental unit". Why would someone ever think that I would spend my time cleaning THEIR place? It is always someone else's fault as to why they live in filth. 

So, once we wade through trivial items like those above, we look for anything that may be related to smoking pot. Lighters, small clumps of ashes, ashes around windows, incense, small snips or scissors, rolling papers, pot grinders, etc. Second apartment in, JACK-POT! Sitting there in the living room next to the couch in a little ashtray and nice little fat roach. Quick smell to confirm....YUP, that's a roach. It should be noted, this tenant hates us...she has been previously blogged about. I can't even express to you how excited we are to get to talk to her about it. She walks around the building thinking the sun shines out of her ass. The previous manager (who has also been blogged about) use to treat her like a fucking queen. No clue why. She pays her rent at 11:59pm on the 1st, her apt looks like a over-stuffed junk/thrift store, and the bitch is rude. The convo was could see it in her eyes when her stomach dropped and her ass clenched. She does not wear the shade of grey she turned all that well. 

So far....7 days since the inspection and we are looking good. Our bedroom no longer fills up with pot smoke every night at midnight and no more complaint about the smell from our tenants. The bitch tenant has also seemed to have a change of heart towards us and now understands that no matter how much of a cunt she is, we will always win. Obedience breeds victory.

There are a few things I have realized doing this job (and specifically conducting inspections). 1.) So many people live in filth! I'm not talking about not doing your dinner dishes from the evening before, or missing that weeks vacuuming/bathroom cleaning routine or having a full laundry basket....I'm talking about plain old disgusting filth. Splatter marks on the walls, dust as thick as a carpet under your dinner table, cat fur stuck to EVERYTHING, not sleeping on bed sheets or having pillows without cases, food on the floor, moldy McDonald's cups, moldy shower curtains, piss on the floor around the toilet, etc. 2.) Some choose the most ridiculous things to bitch about. You don't like the tile on you kitchen floor, but are okay with having a molding fish tank full of dead fish. Or, we are standing in the middle of this shit-hole flop house and you are talking to me about your curtains. Does not compute. 3.) The less rent you pay...the more likely you are to bitch. I can't explain this one. I don't get it. 4.) Bed frames no longer appear to be a popular piece of furniture. SO MANY people sleep on a mattress on the floor. Metal bed frames are, like, $50. Go buy one. This will help you avoid pests like bedbugs. 5.) Some people have no shame. Highlight: a perfectly made bed  with gigantic cums stains. Hot. We don't call him Charlie Sheen for nothing.

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Stupid Girl

So we have this woman, that's a hiiint of an alcoholic. By hint, I mean 'way'. But functional. Well, except our first week on the job when she was escorted home by police. Functionality is a sliding scale. She was never quite bad enough to be on the hitlist. 

So, a year goes by and she complains about little things and is kind of annoying, but whatever. Then, we start seeing this strange dude huffing and puffing his way through the halls. 

No sooner do we get an anonymous letter under the door. 

Oh yeah. This guy used to live here. Oh! This guy was busted smoking crack in the laundry room. Hot. 

So down we go for a little conversation. We are informed that he doesn't live here, and understand that there is a process he'd have to go through in order to do so. 

Over the next months, we monitor his activity, and it does indeed look like he lives here. But please keep in mind, I'm too stupid to notice. :rolleyes:

So finally a few months ago, my partner in crime sees him having small talk with another building loser. He's fumbling for his keys and the other guy says, "oh, you live here, its cool" as dino walks by and says,

"well thats a bit of a question now, isn't it?"

So today, we are in the lobby, and out of the corner of my eye I see him at the front door...but then I don't. It hits me to go to the back door. And I see him...then I don't. 

I think to myself, "Oh dude, you are shitting me!"

So I busy myself in the car for a sec, and then go inside, then go back out and I see him hobbling around the corner and then turn around again. 

Once again, to myself I ask, "what the fuck is this?"

Now, I must stop for a second. I did well in school. I went to post-secondary. I had a promising career before quitting it to work for myself. I'm not going to be a member of mensa, but I can hold my own at a dinner party. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm not an idiot and can realize that someone doing this: 

THREE fucking times is fucking bullshit. 

And I HATE bullshit. I think I hate it more than anything else. I'd actually have more respect for someone saying they gambled their rent money on a nigerian business scheme that promises amazing results more than a bullshit lie. I would like to see the lie that's better than that, but I respect honesty. 

So, we continue to the grocery store, and I'm fuming mad. 

And when I'm fuming mad...I like resolution. 

So we get home and I knock on the door. 

me"hey, your boyfriend home?" 
them"yeah, just a second"

It was way more of a second as they were questioning inside just what the fuck I was there for. So he comes out. 

me"hey! what was that display downstairs earlier?" 
Dumbfounded look
me"oh, you know, where you were trying to avoid me? Why were you trying to avoid me?"
and silence. 
and silence
them"Well, I don't like you" 
Good fucking answer! You are like the best at digging your self out of a bad situation. 
me"And why is that?"

And stop. I stand there. In silence, waiting for his mind to produce the next glimmer of excellence. 

In order for me to have dinner at some point tonight, I finally let him off that hook. 

me"Let me help you out. Is it because you've been living here for the last year, and you know that we are on to you? Is it because you didn't want me to see you using a set of keys to my building that I did not provide? Could that be it? Because I'm a little curious of how you could not like me seeing as I know you don't even know me. The reason I know you don't know me is I certainly don't know you. And that is a problem, because as we have established, you've been living in my building."

You want to see a stunned, deer in headlights look in a human? Rattle that off in their face. I have a skill...I can motherfucking And I continue with the death kill: 

me"So how do you like me now?" 

So they tell me I'm wrong. He doesn't actually live here. 


me"Where do you live?"
me"Cool. That narrows it down. Can i have an address?"

And here is the kicker that does it in...

them"Well, who are you going to report it to?" 

This becomes very important in the after action analysis. 

The conversation continues, and boils down to the following. You have options: 

1. He fills out an application, goes through the same credit check/reference check as everyone else. Approval is not guaranteed. We also amend your rent as its no longer single-occupancy. 
2. You move-one way or another :troll: 


I leave them with..."I'm home all evening and would like an answer" 

So, at this point...I've basically handed you the answer. Why do I do this? Because I would feel as guilty as punching a blind man otherwise. Lie to me! Make up a fucking address. I'll still prove that you lied, and if you still don't like me after that, then I don't know what I can do. At least I get to work on it. A project if you will. The internet is an all knowing place filled with wondrous information. And I was a little bit looking forward to slapping you in the head with it. 

But about 20 minutes later she's now at my door. Cool. I don't usually like conducting business at my door, but the guy across the hall could use a reminder of what I'm capable of, so I let it slide. 

them"You know, this is ridiculous. He doesn't live here" 
Oh shit. The record is skipping again. 
me"You know, he admitted that he does. And if he lives somewhere else, all I need is an address." 
them"Well, he doesn't have anything here, just his clothes" 
Oh. This helps. 
me"His clothes, so he does live here" 
them"no, he just stays here" 
I could still be circling through the conversation now if I wanted to be, but I had to cut it short. I say,

"First don't make that face at me, my eyes are right here. Next, your options are (what was listed above) so why don't you go back downstairs and put some effort into your story and get on the same page. Come back up when you have something credible. I still want an answer tonight, because as mentioned, you've been pulling this shit off for a year, and it ends one way or another tonight." 

She called back in 10 minutes and gave her notice. 

Sidebar: The "who ya gonna report it to" comment

It took us a few minutes to realize what was happening. I'm not sure on the specifics, but can assume that seeing as I barely see anyone work that someone is getting government checks...checks that might stop, or be decreased because of the new living arrangement. 

So we can't have me pissed off, or asking questions and we certainly can't do a credit check. 

So instead, to continue the scam, we lose our house. 

Hope its worth it.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

Happy Mother's Day!

She was nice, clean, quiet, and a single mother of a 1-2 year old son. She moved into one of our good un-renovated one bedroom apartments and we forgot that she was there until about 4-5 months into her tenancy. It first started with a late payment of her rent. Okay…not a huge deal, sometime it happens. Then it happens again a few months later…and then again a few months later. We gave warning letters, talked to her, and then started to issue “10-day pay to stay” notices.

Now, usually people like this would not stick around very long, but we don’t like to kick tenants out right away who have children. Call it stupid, or say we are push-overs, but it is hard to do especially when you know their resources are limited. We knew her day would come so there was no rush.

Her late rent (1-2 days) became more frequent and we noticed that she was not around as much. She told us that she was spending more and more time with her baby-daddy so I made the decision to strike next time she was late.

We had received a call on our intercom phone from the police at the front door on Mother’s Day. “Hi, it’s the police, can you let us in the building”. I buzz them in and we quickly put out shoes on to go walk through the building to find out where they are going. Now, police coming to the building isn’t entirely rare. Every few months we get a call like that and they are usually here to serve someone some papers or to get a statement from a tenant who has witnessed something (always boring reasons). By the time we walked the building, they were gone. Whatevs.

An hour later it happens again…okay, random. We do the walk again and get to the third floor and hear them banging on this chicks door. No answer. They leave. I go out on our deck and look down to see 3 police cars and 4 officers milling around the front of the building….good thing I was not showing any suites that day. We hear fragments of a conversation between them talking about “beat-up pretty bad” “assault” “not home”, etc… They call us again to enter the building, knock again, no answer, call her, no answer, then asked us what car she drives, and when does she usually come home, etc. They leave.

An hour later (again) we notice that she is home and shortly after the cops are back. They buzz, we let them in and I run downstairs and hide behind the firedoor to eavesdrop. “You are under arrest for assault and battery”. Cool. Child is scream, she is crying, I have my ear plastered to the door. Now probably isn’t the best time to let our presence be known.

The whole situation took over and hour as they had to phone CPS to take the child (that was not fun to watch). We had a birds-eye view of the whole ordeal as we stood on our deck watching her get carted away in the back of the cop car hand-cuffed. 

We issued her an eviction notice the next day. Happy Mother’s Day!