I’d been renting my flat for six years when this happened. I’d been stung by s***ty landlords in the past, so I was relieved to find that my current landlord was a stand-up guy. Because my landlord travelled a lot for business, he used a property management service to ensure stuff got done.

The letting agent he had been using for years shut down because the guy running it retired, so my landlord found another company. As part of taking over, an agent from the new company came to do an inspection. No biggie. I kept the house in tip-top condition, and I’d never had any issues before. 

The agent looked around and saw that my furniture was a little battered. Most of it was bought secondhand, and I’d had it for years, so naturally, there was wear and tear. 

The agent started listing the damage to the furniture. I thought that was odd.

Me: “Yeah, it’s not in the best condition, but it’s my furniture, so it’s not a problem.”

Agent: “You’re going to have to pay to replace it all.”

Me: “Why? It’s my furniture. The place was rented unfurnished. This is all my stuff. It doesn’t belong to the landlord.”

Agent: *Smiling smugly* “The moment you bring anything into the property, it becomes property of the landlord.”

Me: “That’s not how that works.”

The agent huffed and continued nitpicking everything he could before leaving. 

A few days later, I got a letter stating that they were going to take my entire deposit to pay for the damage to the furniture. My furniture.

As I said before, I had been royally screwed over in the past by scummy landlords, so I knew my rights as a tenant and where to look in my tenancy agreement, etc. I researched this, and naturally, none of what the agent was trying to do was remotely legal.

I sent them a letter, highlighting the relevant parts of the tenancy agreement and the law, including that my deposit was protected so they couldn’t touch it until I moved out. They then tried sending me a bill and threatened legal action if I didn’t pay, but again, I reiterated that this wasn’t legal and cited the relevant laws and regulations.

The agent was obviously determined to get at my deposit and so kept coming at me with a bunch of bogus claims to extort money from me.

1. They claimed that they had evidence that I had a dog which my tenancy forbade. For one, my tenancy does not forbid them; I just have to ask my landlord’s permission before getting any pets. Also, I do not have a dog as I have allergies.
2. They claimed that I was illegally sub-letting. I wasn’t.
3. They tried to get me to pay for a fence that had been blown down during storm winds — claiming that had I ripped this fence out of the ground maliciously — a fence that the building freeholder was actually responsible for, not my landlord. So, even if I had damaged the fence, the letting agent wouldn’t be who I paid to fix the damage.
4. They claimed that I had let the flat become mould damaged. Again, not true.

It went on and on with him trying to make bogus claims. Each time, I demanded to speak to the landlord, but the agent refused to give me any of his details, claiming the landlord knew about this and was sick of me “abusing his property.”

He’d try to bully me with threats of eviction for non-compliance, and I’d just hit him with the laws that said he couldn’t do that. I thought he would eventually get bored and stop when he saw I wouldn’t cave in. He didn’t. After months of constant harassment, constant fighting, and documenting everything — including taking photos of the state of my flat every single day out of paranoia — I was burnt out. Enough was enough.

I needed to contact my landlord directly, but I’d lost his number a few years ago when I got a new phone. I’d never had any issues before and so foolishly never thought to get the details again. The only thing I had to go by was my landlord’s full name on the tenancy agreement and the address of his place of work. It took me a while, but I eventually managed to get his work email address.

I emailed him and explained what was going on, including sending him scanned copies of the letters I was being sent. Less than an hour later, he called me saying he had no idea any of this was happening, and he assured me that he had not okayed ANY of it. He promised he would deal with it.

A few days later, my landlord called back and explained what had happened. It turns out that the agent who had been hassling me was actually the owner of the letting agents. He was also my landlord’s nephew. His nephew had opened his new business when my landlord was looking for a new letting agent, so he decided to help his nephew out by signing up for his property management services.

The problem was that his nephew knew nothing about property management. He told everyone he had been taking courses, but he hadn’t. While you don’t necessarily need to pass a course to open or work as a letting agent, you do need to know what you are doing, and his nephew didn’t know the first thing about property management, let alone rental laws.

The whole time his nephew had been hassling me, he kept his uncle in the dark, telling him everything was fine. No wonder he refused to give me any of his details. My guess is he was trying to siphon my deposit for himself.

My landlord apologised profusely and assured me that he would make this right. And he did, by immediately firing his nephew and hiring a new property management company. He gave me all his contact details and told me to call him if I ever had any problems. I made sure I saved those details in as many places as possible.

At the railway station where I work, a nearby level crossing is being closed for a few days for essential maintenance. A woman comes into the station looking cross.

Woman: “What does that sign mean?”

Me: “Uh, sorry, what sign?”

Woman: “The one on the crossing gates saying it’ll be closed from Friday to Tuesday night.”

Me: “Oh, yes. It means that the crossing will be closed due to maintenance from Friday at about 7:00 pm until sometime on Tuesday afternoon.”

Woman: “Does that apply to me?”

Me: “If you use the crossing, yes. You’ll need to walk to [Next Crossing] or drive your car down [Street] and cross at the big crossing.”

Woman: “So, it doesn’t apply to me?”

Me: “Not if you don’t use it, no.”

Woman: “I use it twice a day.”

Me: “Then it applies to you. You’ll have to use the crossings either side.”

Woman: “No, I don’t think it means that.”

Me: “Well, yes, it does. The crossing will be closed.”

Woman: “No, it means that trains won’t be able to go past. They’ll use the big crossing.”

Me: “No, the trains will continue on this line as normal. The crossing will be closed to pedestrians and cars. You had a letter about it a few weeks ago.”

Woman: “I put that in the bin because it doesn’t apply to me.”

Me: “If you use the crossing, it does apply to you.”

Woman: “No, it only applies to other people using the crossing. I’ll still be able to use it. The sign is confusing.”

Me: “Nobody can use the crossing.”

Woman: “Nobody else can use the crossing. I understand that. But the sign should say that. Why doesn’t it?”

Me: “Because it applies to you, as well. Nobody can use the crossing. Nobody at all. It’ll be closed.”

Woman: “Then you’ll need to tell people that. The sign suggests it applies to everybody.”

Me: “It does apply to everybody, including you.”

Woman: “No, it doesn’t. It means there’ll be no trains and nobody except me can cross.”

Me: “Well, give it a try on Friday night and see how that works out.”

Woman: “You are no help at all!”

She stormed out. I was told by a colleague that the police had to be called on Monday morning because someone smashed a car into the new crossing gates that had just been put in and were being tested, coming to rest on the railway line. All the trains had to be stopped for a few hours.

She was charged with dangerous driving and the railway applied to have the crossing permanently closed.

I am working security for a big show. It is simple work: check the tickets and deal with anyone acting up. We deal with most of the visitors, and as it gets closer to the start time, the majority of the crowd is dealt with and only a few latecomers are left.

Out of nowhere, a smart-looking woman makes a beeline to the door.

Me: “Ticket, please.”

Woman: “Gah! Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “I don’t, but I do know you need a ticket.”

Woman: “I can’t believe this! I’m the guest speaker!”

I have no way to confirm this. We expect speakers to get here early, and she’s coming through the main entrance, not the big guest entrance.

Me: “Then we need to see your ID, please.”

Woman: “This is stupid. Just let me in!”

Me: “I need to see a ticket or an ID pass for speakers.”

Woman: “If you don’t let me in, there won’t be a show!”

I don’t flinch. She eventually calls someone, and it sounds like she has forgotten her ID. From what I can make out, it sounds like the person is telling her to go to the main entrance, which she is now arguing about. Eventually…

Woman: “They said you have to let me in.”

Me: “I’m sure they will call me on my radio if that’s the case.”

She tries to push past.

Woman: “This is stupid. I’m going to get you fired!”

She ranted and raved and then made another phone call. Eventually, someone from the main entrance came and got her. It turns out she wasn’t even a speaker; the organisers had asked her to join a panel but she didn’t tell anyone she was going to be there!

Better yet, the panel was about dealing with conflict in stressful situations. Sounds like she could have been better in the audience for that one!

I’m showing someone around my house, which is up for sale. We get around 90% of the property. Now we’re just chatting informally about the area, how long we’ve lived here, what they are looking for in a property, etc. They turn around to ask me:

Viewer: “How much is it a month?”

Me: “You mean like the mortgage?”

Viewer: “Mortgage, rent, whatever.”

Me: “Well, it’s not available for rent, and the mortgage depends on how much you borrow.”

Viewer: “Well, how much would it be for the full price?”

Me: “That would depend on your deposit and what deal you could get, I guess. You should probably talk to a bank or the estate agent to get a price.”

Viewer: “Hmm, maybe.”

I show them the rest of the house. As we are finishing:

Viewer: “So, what’s the deal with the furniture?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Viewer: “Does it come fully furnished? I’m renting at the moment and don’t have any furniture.”

Me: “I could be persuaded to leave a few items. But that would have to be on an offer at asking price.”

They seem to think about it a bit and leave.

I catch up with the estate agent.

Estate Agent: “The viewer is keen, but we can’t put forward any of the offers they’ve made.”

Me: “That’s weird; I always thought you were obliged to.”

Estate Agent: “Yes, but they keep trying to offer monthly amounts. We explained that wasn’t how you buy a house, but they kept coming back offering slightly more.”

After a few weeks, I got a nasty note through the door from the viewer, complaining about messing them around!

I’ve agreed on a price for my pushbike through an online marketplace. The buyer pays by bank transfer, and I leave the bike outside the front of the house but away from view until you get to the door.

I forget about it until the afternoon, when I get a message from the buyer complaining that it is nothing like the pictures, badly damaged, etc. His claims are so out there, it’s like he is talking about a completely different bike altogether. I go and check, and then I message him back.

Me: “That bike is not the one you bought. You took my wife’s bike by mistake.”

Buyer: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “The bike you bought is still here; you took the wrong one.”

I send a photo of the bike very much still here.

Buyer: “How was I supposed to know?”

Me: “With all due respect, one is a purple mountain bike, and you took a pink bike with a basket on the front.”

Buyer: “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Me: “You can return the bike and we can swap it.”

Buyer: “No, I shouldn’t have to! You should bring it to me!”

Me: “This is your mistake. Please return the bike so we can swap it.”

Buyer: “No, I want my money back.”

Me: “Look, you stole my property. Return it and we can swap, or I will just refund you.”

He refused to do anything to help, and in the end, he stopped responding altogether. Luckily, my wife’s bike was worth nothing, so he actually did me a favour. I sold my bike again; this time the right one got picked up!