My friend messaged me right after this happened to vent. [Woman] moved into the apartment next to [Friend]’s a couple of weeks ago. [Woman] has struck up short, polite conversations with [Friend] just two times in that period, with the second being the day before this whole fiasco unfolded.

This morning at about 9:00 am, [Friend] was having a nice Saturday breakfast. (She gets up at 6:00 am on weekdays, so this was a weekend lie-in for her.) Someone started aggressively banging on her front door. When [Friend] answered, [Woman] was standing there with [Kid], her sweet five-year-old daughter, who had a little backpack on.

Woman: *Sounding very flustered* “I’m so sorry to have to ask this with no notice, but could you please watch [Kid] for a few hours? I have somewhere really important to be.”

Now, something you need to understand about [Friend] is that she can’t stand kids and has no idea how to deal with them. Like, she tenses up and gets super awkward if a kid so much as waves at her in the supermarket. [Friend] is also disabled. She uses a motorised wheelchair sometimes and a walking cane for short distances or when she’s just pottering around her own home. She lives with her girlfriend, who is also her carer. Her chronic illnesses involve fainting spells and a lot of brain fog, so by her own account, she’s absolutely not someone who should be left in charge of a child.

[Woman] has seen [Friend] using both her wheelchair and her cane and has seen [Friend]’s girlfriend (who was at work when this all happened) helping her in and out of their car.

So, [Friend] responded with a firm NO, explaining that her medical conditions meant that [Kid] would not be safe in her care and that she was not well enough at the moment to have any guests (let alone an unattended kid) in her home, anyway.

[Woman] immediately flipped from pleading and simpering to hand-on-hip indignation, accusing [Friend] of “faking” her disabilities. (Because, of course, if she can walk AT ALL, then she obviously doesn’t actually need a wheelchair, right?) She threatened to report her to Centrelink (welfare) if [Friend] didn’t watch [Kid] for her.

Never mind the fact that [Friend] isn’t on welfare. Her girlfriend has a high-paying job and [Friend] works somewhere between part-time and full-time hours from home most weeks. (She’s a g**d*** machine, and I don’t know how she manages it.) News flash: not all disabled people are unable to work. Although, of course, getting employers to actually hire us is another matter, ‘cause ableism.

Friend: “I’m not on Centrelink, and I don’t appreciate being blackmailed. Find another babysitter, because I am not it.”

And she closed her door. [Woman] kept banging on the door for a bit, but she eventually left.

About twenty minutes later, [Friend] heard a very faint, timid tapping on her front door. She said if she hadn’t been so close to it, she probably wouldn’t have heard it. She sighed heavily, having kind of already guessed what was happening. She opened the door and there was [Kid], who had clearly been crying, clutching the shoulder straps of her little backpack.

Kid: *Very softly* “Mummy said I could stay here today.”

Now, like I said, [Friend] cannot stand kids, but even she said that [Kid] was an absolute darling throughout this entire fiasco and the most she ever did was cry because her mother is clearly a monster. [Woman] had driven off and sent [Kid] to [Friend]’s door, clearly thinking that if she left [Friend] with no alternative, she’d just play along and babysit [Kid] for her, anyway — especially since [Friend] had literally no way of contacting [Woman].

WRONG.

[Friend] escaped abusive parents at a young age, and this s*** made her furious. She got [Kid] settled in front of the TV with a drink and some snacks, and she called the police.

Friend: “My neighbour just abandoned her five-year-old daughter outside of her apartment, and the kid showed up at my door, asking to come in.”

When the officers arrived, [Friend] told them the full story, and while they were appalled, she said they weren’t surprised.

Officer: “You’d be shocked at how not rare this kind of thing is.”

Which is honestly kind of the worst part of all this.

The officers took [Kid] with them and were really sweet with her, explaining to her that she wasn’t in any trouble and had done the right thing and that they were there to look after her and find out where her mummy had gone.

They were able to contact [Kid]’s father, who is currently working on finalising a divorce from [Woman] and was also appalled, but not remotely surprised by what she’d done.

This morning, [Friend] had another knock on her door, only it was the dad with [Kid] in tow. He was there so he could apologise for what his ex had done, and so he and [Kid] could thank [Friend] for looking after [Kid] and for calling the police. [Friend] said he seemed like a good guy who was clearly putting his kid first in all this, which was really reassuring to hear.

He told [Friend] that, according to his lawyer, her calling the police and handling everything the way she had would basically be a gift-wrapped custody battle win for him, because what kind of court would ever grant [Woman] custody after the s*** she’d pulled? His lawyer was over the moon when [Dad] called him!

[Friend] also asked [Dad] what had been so important that [Woman] had abandoned her own daughter over it.

It was an appointment at a nail salon. She’d taken [Kid] with her several times previously, and she just demanded that the staff babysit her and refused to even acknowledge the kid during her “me time”. When she called yesterday morning to book a last-minute appointment, the staff put their foot down and told her she could no longer bring her kid to her appointments and would be refused service if she did.

[Dad] also said that [Woman] had shown up so late to the appointment that they’d refused to see her, anyway.

So, she abandoned her daughter cuz she wanted her “me time”, to get her nails done.

[Dad] told [Friend] that “me time” is an excuse [Woman] uses to ignore her kid, basically any time she feels like it. “DO NOT talk to me during my me time!” etc.

[Dad] also asked [Friend] if she would be okay to help with his custody battle. He said he understood that her health wasn’t great, but his lawyer had said a written statement would be fine. He said while it probably wasn’t essential, since they had the police report, he wanted to have as much evidence on his side as possible, just to be sure. Of course, [Friend] agreed.

[Woman] hasn’t yet shown up at [Friend]’s door to scream at her, so [Friend]’s thinking maybe dealing with the police put some actual fear of consequences into her. We shall see.

I’m renting an apartment from a company whose renting agents are somehow all unprofessional, late, and kind of slow. I’ve had a plethora of issues with them throughout ten months, but that’s a story for another time.

As I told my landlord I’d be moving out, they instructed their agents to find a new tenant for the apartment. The way it worked was that the agent would email me with a proposed date and time, and I would confirm that I’d be in at that time. (I’ve got a cat, so I insisted on being present during the viewings.)

The agents never had keys. I think that’s because the landlord’s office is at the other end of the city, and they can’t be bothered to drive an extra hour each time there’s a viewing to pick the keys up and then drop them off, so they relied on me to let them in each time.

Apart from a couple of unannounced show-ups, followed by passive-aggressive emails about the messy property, all was well until a week ago.

The agent emails me saying they’ve got a viewing on the 13th. I respond saying I’ve got work that day and won’t be able to do 13th. She simply replies:

Agent: “If you won’t be able to accommodate this request, I’ll ask the landlord for a twenty-four-hour notice of entry, which is legally enforceable.”

Me: “Okay, do that.”

The day comes, and I get a call.

Agent: “We’re downstairs.”

Me: “Congratulations, but I’m not home. I hope you brought keys this time.”

Man, I wish I could’ve seen her face then. We went back and forth a bit. She tried to threaten me with legal action, to which I just replied that I didn’t object to them entering; they were unable to enter due to their own negligence, and I had nothing to do with it.

Naturally, I got an email from the landlord asking me to be “more cooperative” next time, which was promptly ignored.

My wife and live in an apartment. Because of the circumstances, we allow our elderly widowed neighbor to use our Wi-Fi connection. We’ve always gotten along really well with [Neighbor], and her kids and grandkids live on the other side of the country because of work or other pursuits, so we’ve become a sort of “apartment family” together.

My wife just bought a new phone after her old phone crashed. After getting her new phone connected to the Internet, I go into our account to remove her old phone. When I see the list of connected devices, there are four devices I don’t recognize. I immediately change the password to our connection and remove all of the devices except my own computer.

My wife and I get our devices set up, and since [Neighbor] is out shopping, we set a reminder to go over and help her reconnect when she gets home.

About ten minutes after I change the password, I start hearing a lot of banging and shouting from the hallway. I open the door and see the man who lives across the hall from [Neighbor] pounding on her door.

Me: “Hey, [Man]! [Neighbor] is out right now. What do you need?”

Man: “My kids are over, and [Neighbor]’s Internet just went out. I’m trying to get it fixed before my kids throw an even bigger tantrum.”

His kids are all preteens, and they don’t live with him full-time; he only gets custody of them every other weekend.

Me: “What do you mean, ‘[Neighbor]’s Internet’?”

Man: “She said I could use her Internet when my kids come over. I only have a cell data plan, so having that many devices would cost me a ton of money.”

Me: “I know that’s not true, [Man]. [Neighbor] doesn’t have her own Wi-Fi.”

Man: “Sure, she does. I saw her password for it when I dropped off her mail yesterday.”

Me: “What time was this?”

Man: “I don’t know, maybe 2:00 pm.”

Me: “[Man]… [Neighbor] was over with [Wife] and me all day yesterday. How exactly did you get into her apartment?”

Man: “She had a package in the mail room, so I grabbed it. And her apartment was unlocked when I tried to give it to her, so I went in and left the package on her couch. Her Wi-Fi password was sitting on the end table next to her laptop, so I know she has her own account. I just need her to reset her Wi-Fi so my kids can get back on their phones.”

Me: “You do realize that nothing you said is good, right? I know [Neighbor] didn’t ask you to collect her mail for you because if it was big enough that she couldn’t carry it up herself, she would have asked [Wife] or me to help her. That’s mail theft, which is a federal crime. You also entered her apartment uninvited. I’m sure that’s another crime by itself, regardless of whether or not the door was unlocked. Finally, [Neighbor] doesn’t have her own Wi-Fi; she uses our Wi-Fi. And since [Wife] and I did not give you permission, and [Neighbor] would never give you permission without our permission, you’re stealing our Wi-Fi.”

Man: “Okay, then you need to reset your Wi-Fi.”

Me: “That’s not going to happen. What will happen is that I’ll be going to [Apartment Manager] on Monday to let him know about all this.”

[Man] screamed at me, but I just stepped back into my apartment and closed — and locked — the door. After a minute or so of screaming, I heard him go back to his own apartment and slam the door.

I did tell our building manager about the incident. I did not wait until Monday, as he’s actually a great guy who doesn’t mind being called in during his free time for major issues like this. The manager thanked me for the information, and although he couldn’t say it outright, I’m sure my call and the security camera footage from the hallway of the various incidents were enough to start eviction proceedings.

My wife and I met [Neighbor] when she got home, helped her get back online, and gave her a gentle reminder to ALWAYS make sure her door is locked unless she’s actively using the door.

[Man]’s eviction was completed a few weeks after this incident, and the new tenant is already much friendlier than [Man] ever was.

Warning: this story will likely make you itch — BAD.

I once had an insane experience with a scumbag landlord, hereafter known as Mr. Scumlord. I moved into a ten-story complex only to discover bedbugs! Mr. Scumlord feigned ignorance and refused to take care of it.

Me: “The apartment has bedbugs in it!”

Mr. Scumlord: “That’s funny; I haven’t received any complaints.”

Me: *Showing him pictures* “They’re literally crawling over each other along the baseboards!”

Mr. Scumlord: *Blank-faced* “That’s funny; I haven’t received any complaints.”

Me: “I’m complaining now! You need to call an exterminator!”

Mr. Scumlord: “I’ve run this apartment complex for years and I. Haven’t. Received. Any. Complaints. Pay the rent on time. I’m not giving you a discount, and I’m certainly not shelling out any money for a non-existent problem.”

Then, Mr. Scumlord shut the door in my face. I stared for just a moment, and then I went nuclear.

I immediately went to talk to my neighbors in my hallway, and of course, they were all dealing with bedbugs and had been for months. They’d been fighting with their own treatments, but since the entire building was infested, cleaning one apartment just made room for them to migrate back in later. Mr. Scumlord would simply stone-face at them and reply that there wasn’t a problem, refuse to accept or acknowledge a complaint, and tell the tenants to use their own treatments if they wanted to be hypochondriacs.

We all cussed and discussed (pun intended) before organizing to submit multiple complaints to License and Inspections. Word spread through the complex, and I got to talk to a LOT of neighbors from other floors. I learned that there was a leak in a wall that had been slowly growing worse, and the tenant was terrified that their bathtub was going to crash through the floor into the apartment below. (They had already warned the tenant below, and both had tried to complain.) I learned that if you touched the hanging lamp in one apartment’s dining room while the light was on, you’d get a shock. 

The stories just piled up, and people got excited when I told them where to lodge their complaints.

I’m sure you can imagine how very, very, VERY interested the city became in the absolute flood of complaints from the entire building, complete with photographic evidence of the bedbugs from all of them. The floors were literally crawling with the little bloodsuckers, and the edges of the room were black with droppings of digested blood.

The city quickly sent an inspector, and I gave her the door code to come and go as she pleased. Mysteriously, no matter how busy many tenants were, there was nearly always someone home during her visits to let her in to discuss concerns and take photographs. She inspected that ten-story building from top to bottom and found tons of other violations.

She insisted on a very expensive remediation process. Mr. Scumlord was told that if he didn’t follow the process, the city would immediately condemn the entire complex, as well as slam him with an a**-puckering set of fees. She was already dragging him over some very hot coals about tenants’ rights and how he was personally responsible for providing every tenant in the building accommodation while the complex was brought up to code.

Mr. Scumlord was soon eyebrows deep in renovations and treatments. I heard he eventually just ripped out the flooring and replaced it because the infestation was so bad that it couldn’t be cleaned.

I had to bag up all of my clothing and wash them. I had to throw out my mattress and nearly everything I owned because within days of moving in, they were all stained with bedbug fecal matter. I got out of the lease and moved; luckily, a friend of mine had a spare room I could stay in. 

Many tenants couldn’t do the same, so on top of the renovations, Mr. Scumlord had to find them places to live and ensure that no bedbugs migrated with the families. He’s not bankrupt yet, but some other properties he owns are apparently under scrutiny, as well, so fingers are crossed.

Related:
This Is Why People Have Big Feelings About Landlords, Part 2
This Is Why People Have Big Feelings About Landlords

My best friend is the daughter of the resident janitor in an apartment building. When a tenant has a problem with anything, they come knocking on the janitor’s door, and the janitor will contact a technician to fix the problem. [Best Friend] often complains to me that the tenants sometimes come banging on the door in the middle of the night for the most trivial problems, expecting an immediate resolution.

A few years ago, her mother went on holiday, and [Best Friend] offered to have me spend a few days at her place, which I accepted.

On a Sunday evening, while we were watching TV with some snacks in our PJs, we heard some noise outside.

Tenant: “Hey! S’cuse me? Hello?”

I looked at [Best Friend] in confusion, and she already looked annoyed. She went out onto the balcony. Someone was standing in front of the building.

Best Friend: “What is it, [Tenant]?”

Tenant: “Hey, where’s your mother? There’s a problem in my apartment!”

Best Friend: “My mom’s on holiday. What is the problem? Is it urgent?”

Tenant: “Yes, it’s urgent! There’s been no hot water for a week!”

Best Friend: “Okay, when did you inform my mother? Did the technician come already?”

Tenant: “No one came. I just came now.”

Best Friend: “…You haven’t had hot water for a week, and you’re only coming in now? On a Sunday at 10:00 pm?!”

Tenant: “Yeah, can you call the technician?”

Best Friend: “You’ve waited a week without telling anyone there was a problem. You waited until Sunday evening to come here and complain. Since you could afford to wait for a week, you can wait for one more night.”

And with this, she closed the window with an exasperated look on her face.

Best Friend: *To me* “See?”

The tenant yelled a bit more, demanding she come back — plus a few insults — before giving up. We resumed the movie and the junk food.

When [Best Friend]’s mother came back, she ripped the tenant a new one for screaming under the windows of people in the middle of the night and insulting her daughter.