A confession. I kind of want to kill someone. Maim them, at least. In the very, very least make them feel two inches tall. In public. Naked in stocks. Tomatoes, anyone? It’s not a person that I’m mad at but a business. We have moved recently and on-line predictions came true: the company we rented from has worked overtime to keep all of my security deposit.
All on-line reviews of the company say to expect this. When we moved, my wife and I laughed and said that if we got half back we would be happy. Then we received the disbursement check which was for much less than half. The reason? A broken sink. A kitchen faucet that doesn’t work. And metal heat registers chewed up by our dog.
I complained. A broken sink? What does that mean? It’s a damned cast-iron porcelain sink. The kind someone will dig up with wonder in ten-thousand years after the nuclear blast. It was scratched, they said. Of course it is scratched. It’s sixteen years old, for god’s sake. And the faucet? Do they remember that I noted it as needing repair on my initial walk-through? No, but they replaced the sink so they needed a new faucet. And c’mon. Have you seen my dog? She weighs six pounds and like all Chinese Cresteds, she has about three teeth. She couldn’t chew through foil.
I made a stink and blabbed about SC landlord laws and the owner agreed to split the cost of the sink since I had cared for the rest of the house so nicely. So they are giving me a little more than half and my high-minded, go-with-life’s-flow perspective is right out the window. My wife – usually the one needing calming – reminds me that we got what we expected and court will cost eighty bucks and I’ll have to take a day off from work and, really, is this worth that much of your life?
Of course it’s not and I know it. But I feel like a sap. I feel like the company knows all this and are seeing how much they can keep. Mostly I just feel like a sap.
Cheers, well, not really.
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