The final straw came when our landlord raised our rent by $650. We were driven to the brink by ongoing harassment, a broken fridge, and a dilapidated flat. We devised a cunning scheme to make him regret his avarice and teach him a memorable lesson since we were determined to exact retribution.
Here’s Dennis. Allow me to share with you the story of how, while we were saving for our ideal home, my wife Amber and I had to cope with the worst landlord ever. Although it has been quite the journey, we have gained a lot of knowledge.
Imagine this: A little over a year ago, Amber and I moved into this little, dilapidated apartment.
We were attempting to save money for a house of our own, so we were being frugal. Our apartment served as a springboard. Small, but we managed to pull it off. Amber used some DIY projects and thrift store purchases to beautify the space. She can make anything look good, I promise.
The issue had begun from the beginning.
When we signed the lease, we got to know Mr. Williams, our landlord. This person now had the appearance of someone straight out of a corporate villain film from the 1980s. A self-assured smile, sleek hair, and a suit that exuded an air of “I have power, and I love it.”
Ever the courteous one, Amber said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams.”
“Similarly,” he answered, hardly taking his eyes off the paperwork. “Let’s finish this up right away. I need to take care of other things.”
We signed here and there as we went through the motions. Then, like a fool, I disclosed my salary.
Yes, one hundred thousand every year. I forgot to put it in when I was completing some income verification forms. Mr. Williams glowed like a child in a confectionery.
“$100k, really? Impressive,” he remarked, his voice full of freshly discovered curiosity. “Glad to have tenants who can pay on time.”
Amber glanced at me, but it was already too late. The harm had already occurred.
We soon discovered, after moving in, that the home required much more than a makeover.
The washer shook so much I felt it was possessed, the refrigerator sounded like a dying whale, and the faucets never stopped leaking. Our bathroom became a no-go area when the toilet, oh my, would suddenly stop flushing.
One evening, I called Mr. Williams and said, “The fridge is acting up again.”
He let out a deep sigh. “What did you do to it now?”
“Not a thing. “It simply stopped functioning,” I responded, attempting to control my annoyance.
“Well, you’re definitely to blame. When I have time, I will stop by.”
And so he did, unexpectedly showing up most of the time. He once popped up when Amber was by herself at home. Frantically, she called me.
She said into the phone, “Dennis, he’s here again.” “He just let himself in!”
I said, “Stay on the line,” and hurried back home. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Amber was left feeling shaken when I arrived, as he had already left. Though it was frustrating, we had no choice. We’d have to take money out of our savings to move out.
We lived with this horror for a full year. Stress was increased by every broken item, surprise visit, and disparaging remark from Mr. Williams. It seemed as though he enjoyed our suffering.
We were so close to having our new house built as our lease was about to expire. Only only a few more months. We requested a two-month lease extension from Mr. Williams.
He answered with a menacing smile. “Sure,” he responded. “However, rent is increasing. by a monthly amount of $650.”
“$650? Are you joking with me? I almost choked on something.
“Take it or leave it,” he said with a shrug. “It’s business.”
All we could do was nod in agreement. The financial burden was tremendous. We reduced everything, including entertainment, eating out, and even essential supplies.
When the time came to move out, we did a thorough cleaning of the unit. You could literally eat off the floors. However, Mr. Williams mocked us when we asked for our deposit to be returned.
With crossed arms, he uttered, “You trashed the place.” “I’m keeping the deposit for repairs.”
“Mending? We didn’t find it as nice as we left it.” Amber yelled.
“Not a problem for me,” he grinned. “What steps will you take? Bring a lawsuit against me? Proceed now. Try demonstrating anything.
We had reached our limit. After all our efforts and sacrifices, this was the way we were treated. I had a mixture of helplessness and rage, but mostly, I felt a strong need for justice.
Amber and I were inconsolable. Feeling completely discouraged, we sat in our packed-up apartment and stared at the barren walls.
I was looking at Amber when she exclaimed, “We’re not letting him get away with this,” God bless her burning soul.
“What do you have in mind?” With a glimmer of hope, I asked.
Her smile had a playful twinkle in it. “We’re going to make him regret ever messing with us.”
And thus our retaliation strategy got started.
One evening, while enjoying a few beers, Amber and I chatted and scribbled ideas down on napkins. Something that would not be traced back to us and would hit Mr. Williams where it hurt was what we needed.
Then the scents hit us. Smells so bad you can never get rid of them.
“All right,” I smiled and leaned back. “We need tuna, rotten eggs, milk, and dead mice.”
Amber laughed. “This is going to be epic.”
The next day we went to the grocery shop, cramming as many disgusting things as we could into our basket while attempting to be as unnoticeable as possible.
Whispering to the cashier, “I feel like a teenager buying toilet paper for a prank,” Amber gave off an anxious look.
After making our payment, we rushed home so we could start our plan.
We executed our strategy on our last trip to the flat to pick up the last few boxes. We started by cracking open the tuna cans and setting the fish behind the air conditioning vents. In the summer heat, the aroma of fish? Perfect.
I held my nose and muttered, “Rotten eggs next.”
A handful of them were gently cracked and poured into the curtain rails.
Amber swallowed. “This is repulsive. but well worth it.”
We knew the milk would quickly turn sour and smell awful, so we spilled it onto the restroom mat. Lastly, we positioned the deceased mice—provided by the nearby pet store—atop the ceiling fans.
Now that everything was set up, we walked out of the flat feeling ecstatic.
We were finally able to move into our new home, a quaint and comfortable place we could call home. We thought back on the previous year as we unpacked.
Glancing around our new living room, I added, “That was one hell of a ride.”
Amber grinned. But we managed to get by. In unison.”
After two months, our curiosity overcame us. Amber made the decision to speak with the rental agent and inquire breezily about our previous apartment.
The agent responded, “Yeah, it’s been vacant.” “There’s a terrible smell no one can seem to get rid of.”
I exchanged a triumphant grin with Amber. Our strategy had succeeded.
That evening, the call came. Through the phone, Mr. Williams’ voice was virtually exploding.
“You two think you’re clever, huh?” He spit. “The unit has a garbage-like odor. How did you act?”
With the same tone he’d used on us, Amber, ever the cool one, fired back, asking, “What are you going to do? Bring a lawsuit against us? Try demonstrating anything.
Mr. Williams growled in frustration after a brief silence. “You need to fix this!”
Amber never skipped a beat. “We will, but with a requirement. You reimburse the extra rent for those two months, repay our entire deposit, and pay any further expenses.”
“That’s extortion,” he angrily said.
“No, that’s justice,” she firmly remarked. “Take it or leave it.”
Another long moment, followed by a reluctant, “All right. You prevail.”
We went to Mr. Williams’ office. His expression when he gave us the check was amazing; it was a mix of resignation and rage.
He whispered, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“We won’t,” I replied as I accepted the payment.
Not wanting to take any chances, we cashed it right away.
It felt strangely good to go back to the flat and tidy up our mess.
The tuna was taken out, the rotting eggs were cleared away, the milk stains were wiped clean, and the dead mice were disposed of. At last, the smell started to fade.
Amber replied, “Good riddance,” as she wiped her hands. “I hope he learned his lesson.”
There you have it, then. The tale of how we overturned our avaricious landlord and obtained the justice we were due. If you ever find yourself in a scenario like this, never forget that a little ingenuity and a lot of willpower can go a long way!