Doing Some Damage With That Deposit

(I get my first apartment when I am 22 and am pretty naïve about how the world works. I expect that my landlord will be a nice, honest guy that will do his job. This turns out to be untrue. For example, after we have a massive blizzard — Google “Winnipeg Snowstorm 1986” for more details — he keeps making excuses about digging out the parking lot, which means that my car is unusable for more than a week. He doesn’t live in the building himself, so he doesn’t care. After a few more experiences like that, I finally have enough and decide to move. I contact the landlord to conduct the apartment inspection so that I can get my damage deposit back. He calls me a few days later.)

Landlord: “I did the inspection, and you’re not getting your deposit back.”

Me: “What? Why not?”

Landlord: “You left a lot of damage in that place.”

Me: “Like what?”

Landlord: “Well, for starters, you stole the plastic hallway runner.”

Me: “That runner was mine. My parents bought it for me.”

Landlord: “No, it was mine!”

Me: “They have the receipt. Want to see it?”

Landlord: “Okay, never mind. You left a huge mess in the oven.”

Me: “That’s not possible.”

Landlord: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I never used the oven.”

Landlord: “What are you talking about? You lived there for a year.”

Me: “Yes, and I never cooked in the oven. I either used my microwave or got takeout.”

Landlord: “Well, regardless, that place was pristine when you moved in!”

Me: “Is that so? I found mushrooms growing on the bathroom carpet, and the shower curtain was covered in slimy mildew.”

Landlord: “You spilled something sticky on the living room carpet!”

Me: “Yes. I did do that, and I’m more than willing to pay for the carpet to be cleaned.”

Landlord: “You’re not getting your damage deposit back.” *click*

(I ended up having to contact the Better Business Bureau, who ordered him to give me my damage deposit, less the amount that it would cost to clean the living room carpet. He very reluctantly agreed to do so but he insisted that I come over to his house to get my cheque. When I got there at the agreed-upon time, he was wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Yuck. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.)