Octopus, Part 3

This is part of a series of posts, drawn from emails I wrote during the last few months, in the wake of what may have been a tornado.

Monday, September 14

The contractors hadn't worked on my place since last Tuesday (so much for the alleged rush), but somehow today, my last moving day, they just HAD to be in there. And precisely when I was moving the heaviest stuff. I asked them to wait an hour and they wouldn't.

Aren't these charming folks?

In truth, some of the guys in the crew seem OK, but why they think they can just muscle in and work when they please is beyond me. Unfortunately the lawyer I consulted when this all started hasn't gotten back to me yet.  Anybody know an appropriate lawyer for this kind of thing?

So I've had seven days in the self-destructing apartment, me and my SARS mask and more insulation every day. On Wednesday, the workers were in a neighboring apartment (why couldn't they have been in there on Tuesday?)  On Thursday they took the afternoon off -- because they're in a rush, you see.  On Friday it rained, and another section of ceiling collapsed:

The workers did not show up at all except for somebody milling about on the roof briefly, and nobody seemed to care that my ceiling was leaking in about a dozen places, streaming in two spots (I lost some more stuff, nothing important but picking up wet stuff coated with roof is not my idea of a good time.)

After the really annoying stuff was already cleared.

Landlord Jr. (the "caretaker" and utterer of "Oh Poor Baby", from my last email) showed up around the time I was there, so I know he was around . . .

On Saturday the cieling was leaking even more, and the pond had become a lake. Landlord Jr.'s son came around, inspecting the place. Nothing had been done to stem the tide in my apartment, and two more sections of ceiling collapsed.

My bedroom was developing it's own body of water from Friday -- partly from living room runoff and partly from the bedroom ceiling's own leaks.

Sunday was a frenetic move-out of everything left that wasn't large, which brings us to today, the day I walked in to find my ceiling completely gone and my stuff yet again moved for the contractor's convenience.

At one point I found one of the workers, a sort of piratey-looking guy with several gold teeth, handling a replica I own of a medieval weapon. Why he felt he could just pick it up, I don't know.

[Insert sounds of chimps here]

Oh Poor Baby

This is the second in a series of posts, drawn from emails I wrote during the last few months, in the wake of what may have been a tornado.  


Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Holy Fucking Shit. The last week has been a parade of sorting, moving, and low-budget cruise missiles . . .

I was "supposed to" have my living room cleared by Tuesday, but was unable to complete that even with the Labor Day Weekend, which I completely burned on apartment stuff. I left a note on my door asking for two more days and was rebuffed by a living room floor made of a giant tarp covered in my cieling. My stuff was moved to the sides, disorganizing it enough to cost me at least a day's effort.

And for effect, some of the food I left for myself in the apartment had been consumed.  A wrapper was tossed on the floor in plain view, I assume, so I would see it.

Plus I now get to work in an environment of exposed fiberglass insulation. I've got one of those masks like people wore during the SARS breakouts.

Unfortunately I didn't have the means to take a photo on the day, but take this one from a week later and fill that tarp, triple it's size, then add my stuff jumbled up against three walls.

But yet it gets better, because today (Wed 9/9) the three who collectively make up my landlord were on the premises, and all three managed to insult me. In summary:

The lady who is half owner told me I and all the other tenants were acting like we were blaming the ownership for the "tornado," and refused to even listen to the basic reality:  I was up in the air for over a month, which means I wasn't packing much, so how much can you expect me to do in a week? "I packed a house in a week", she snidely replied. Really? Did you have anything else to do during that time, and did you have to stop at 7:00 pm because it gets too dark with no power?  Did you do it without a running toilet because the water is turned off?

Then the male who is the other half owner gave me a similarly hard time, again bringing up that their "forgiveness" of my late fees (I made late rent payments about three times in four years) was lisence to hurry me out. Never mind that most of their late fee structure is illegal. Never mind that I am owed four days rent from when I couldn't live in the building at the end of July, which is about the same as any legal late fees they might have decided to put in the lease.

Their ignorance of the law is titanic, not to mention their total inability to connect with what has been happening to the tenant's lives in the past six weeks. They accused me of having a storage space for free, which technically I do because THE APARTMENT IS MINE BY LAW UNTIL THE END OF SEPTEMBER. They have no clue that the lease is still in force minus the requirement to pay rent.

And Mr. says to me, contemptuously, "you're so smart, aren't you? You know all the ins and outs?"

WHAT?

I know what a lawyer told me, and that you are a self-centered pig. I also know that part of the reason I consulted a lawyer is because you had no answers, and that I found out about your late fee structure because you tried to use it to force me out.

But the coup de grace is this: The son of Mr. and Mrs, who is caretaker pretty much only in name, comes by on his riding mower and blasts my car with grass, then later proceeds to yell as he drives by "Oh, poor baby."


Now, in fairness, I realize some crazy people still actually want to move back in, and so work is supposed to proceed quickly, and if I can beleive what I've been told (a bad idea, I've been finding) the work on my place had to be done before work on the roof could proceed.

But with all the lies, half-truths, constantly changing stories, and just plain talking when not a clue is had about that which is being spoken -- for all I know work on my place could have waited until fucking Thanksgiving.

As of this posting it is almost Thanksgiving, and last I drove by a week ago the roof was still not finished.  Should I believe that there was any hurry at all to work inside my place?

The Octopus Has No Head, Part 1

This "Octopus" series of posts was drawn from emails I wrote during the last two months, in the wake of what may have been a tornado.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Hi Everybody!

So, last Tuesday night I come home around 10:00 pm, and see yellow tape over the outer doors of my apartment building. I'm thinking, what the FUCK?! So I go over to my landlord, who lives two blocks away, and he tells me a tornado ripped the roof off the building. Turns out, it wasn't officially classified, but some kind of "freak storm" (as the local paper called it) did rip the roof off the building, including the ceiling of two apartments -- my apartment missed similar damage by feet.

Pics are here: http://njherald.mycapture.com/mycapture/folder.asp?event=806089&CategoryID=4460&ListSubAlbums=0

My building has been classified as uninhabitable, and water and power are off. Estimates range from days to weeks until I can get back in. And I may not want to, because in the interim there has been some water damage to the cieling of my kitchen, which may mean work will need to be done inside my apartment.

Thanks for listening, and if anybody wants to get drunk with me, please get in touch.

Friday, August 28, 2009

All,

I have been barred from my apartment for over a month now, except for moving stuff out. In this time there has been water damage to my kitchen ceiling, and there is a big hole where the ceiling of my bathroom closet used to be. Some estimates put it at two weeks until the building is declared habitable again, but I'm not going back.

I'm giving 30 days notice for the end of September, and will be using the time to move out and get the place in order. I may need someone to help me with a bed and a dresser, possibly just to move the items to the curb, possibly to move the items somewhere else (in which case a truck will be necessary). If you might be able help, please get in touch.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Hello.

Days after my last email, I entered my apartment to find three bad areas of water damage on the cieling -- two big sagging ones in the living room, and one in the bedroom. Two of these had cracked, dripping water onto the floor, ruining some papers in the living room.

I'm dealing with real geniuses here.

I gave 30 days notice on 8/31, and the very next day there was suddenly a hurry for me to evacuate. No one wants to be responsible for damage to my stuff, you see, so apparently 30 days notice only applies for the landlord's convenience.

Whatever. I'm shooting for the move-out to take a week . . .

Never, ever rent from a guy who answers the phone "Yeah?"