I was looking for a new place to live. I saw a flat close to the city centre and right next door to my college, within my budget, so I arranged a viewing. The viewing went well, so I put in an application.

A week or two later I got a phone call to say I had been accepted and arranged a date to sign the tenancy. The woman I spoke to on the phone told me I would need to pay a deposit equal to one month’s rent and a month’s rent up front.

I arrived the day of the signing and had actually signed all of the paperwork when they informed me it was actually three lots of the rent amount I needed to pay, not two. They seemed convinced that they told me this on the phone. No big deal. It was a communication error. I told them I would be able to pay that in two week’s time, as that’s when I’d get paid. They said they’d have to run that past the landlord.

They phoned me a day or two later to tell me the landlord didn’t want to let to me anymore. I was irritated as the tenancy on my old place was about to run out and I had no more time to find a new place. I ended up staying with friends until I could find another place.

The real kicker is that the place ended up being up for let for around six months. All because the landlord didn’t want to wait two weeks.

(My wife and I have been living in a tiny studio apartment for three years and have finally decided to upgrade, so we are applying for various low-cost one-bedroom apartments within our budget. There is a low-income housing complex nearby that looks promising, so we fill in an application and my wife drops it off after work. She gets a call a few days later and we are invited to see the place. My first name is Alex, and we are both women. Upon our arrival, the landlady gives us an odd look as we introduce ourselves.)

Wife: “Hi! Thanks for inviting us to see the place. I’m [Wife’s Full Name] and this is Alex.”

Landlady: *confused look* “Where is your husband? Is this your friend?”

Me: “I’m her wife. My name’s on the form we filled in.”

Landlady: “Alex is a man’s name. I was expecting a man.”

Me: *laughing, assuming she’s making a joke* “Oh, yeah, I guess it could be confusing, but I’m–”

Landlady: *suddenly icy* “Why did you lie on the form?”

(We didn’t lie or leave out any information, and the form never asked us for our genders. We are both caught off-guard by her sudden change in tone, but before we can say anything more, she snaps at us again.)

Landlady: “I’m sorry; you’ll have to leave.”

Wife: “But we haven’t looked at the apartment yet.”

Landlady: “I’m afraid the apartment is gone. I offered it to a couple who just left before you arrived.”

(She was exuding hostility and while my wife looked ready to argue, I was starting to get anxious and upset, so we left without making a fuss. Since we were never formally offered the apartment and couldn’t prove that we were discriminated against, we didn’t take any action against her, but thankfully we find a much better apartment a couple of months later. On a whim, around that time, I looked up the apartment we had visited before, and lo and behold, it was still listed as available!)

(A year previous to this story, my husband and I moved down the hall in our apartment building. We did everything the landlord asked of us, including taking our blinds to be professionally cleaned. This turned out to be a huge inconvenience, as the landlord required a receipt from one specific cleaning company, who did not make house calls and was located outside the city in a near-rural area. We had to make two round-trips to drop the blinds off and pick them back up. We also did not get reimbursed for doing this. Now fast-forward a year: We are moving overseas. My husband has already left, and I am extremely stressed from dealing with vacating the apartment on my own, as well as the emotional toll of saying goodbye to all my family and friends. I also no longer have access to a vehicle. This conversation takes place on moving day as I am handing my keys over.)

Property Manager: “Okay, I’ve had a look through your place, and it all seems really clean. The only thing is that I haven’t got your receipt from [Blinds Cleaning Company].”

Me: “That’s because I haven’t done the blinds.”

Property Manager: *condescendingly* “Well, that’s going to come out of your damage deposit. The fee for bringing someone in to clean the blinds is [fee].”

Me: “Oh, I know. That’s fine.”

Property Manager: “Why didn’t you do it?”

Me: “Because I did it last year, paid [same fee] to the cleaning company, and didn’t get reimbursed. It also took ages to get out there and back.”

Property Manager: “But you’re supposed to get the blinds cleaned!”

Me: “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense if you’ll just take the same amount out of my damage deposit. The way I see it, by not spending the gas money going all the way out there and back — twice — I’m actually likely saving a bit.”

Property Manager: *silence*

Me: “To be honest, I don’t know why anyone even bothers going out there if you just charge them, anyway.”

Property Manager: “But… it’ll come out of your damage deposit.”

Me: *sigh*

(I don’t think he ever really understood my point!)

(I am searching for a new apartment, and have just found a promising ad. I call to confirm the apartment is still available. Please note it is July 24th.)

Me: “Hello, I’m calling to find out if the one-bedroom, one-bath apartment at [Address] is still available?”

Landlord: “October 4th.”

Me: “What?”

Landlord: “October 4th.”

Me: “Oh, it’s not available until October 4th?”

Landlord: “We are in the month of October, ma’am.”

Me: “I… Okay. Thank you.”

Landlord: “You’re very welcome.”

(I crossed that apartment off my list, because I didn’t want a landlord who either couldn’t communicate clearly, or existed more than two months in the future from me.)

(I live in a house divided into three apartments. The largest is occupied by the homeowner, the upstairs apartment is occupied by the owner’s 20-something son and his girlfriend, and my husband and I rent the smaller, downstairs apartment below them. My husband has known the family for years, hence the good price; however, I am viewed as “the outsider” and often end up at the center of any gossip. The homeowner’s son and his girlfriend have been pushing to kick me out so that the apartment can be rented to one of their friends. Because of this, I make it a point to keep my head down, and try to be as polite as possible. I always get a kick out of hearing the latest gossip about what I’m doing.)

Husband: “So, [Homeowner’s Son] says that you’ve been spying on them through the windows.”

Me: “Oh, the bedroom windows with the blackout curtains? Or the living room windows that look out into the woods? Wait! I know! It’s the bathroom window isn’t it? The one that’s too high for me to see out of, and has the blinds?”

Husband: “Oh, and they say you spy on them on the porch. You’re always out there.”

Me: “You mean where I enter and exit through the front door?”

Husband: “Exactly.” *joking* “You’re not allowed to have a life. Just stay in your box. And no more windows.”

(Later:)

Me: “I ran into [Homeowner’s Son] in the driveway. He was working on his truck. He asked me for a jump, but I didn’t have any jumper cables.”

Husband: “I heard. He threw a fit to [Homeowner] that you’re bragging that your car works. He then threw a fit that you’re blocking the driveway and he can’t get out. He wants you to start parking up against the front door to our apartment.”

Me: “On the porch? What about [Homeowner]’s car? Or yours? His truck doesn’t even run.”

(It’s a very large driveway, with two entrances; it curves around the front of the house and then into the back. I’ve been parking in the same spot for almost ten months.)

Husband: “Yeah. Nothing said about that.”

(I continue parking where I always have. Another time:)

Husband: “[Homeowner’s Son’s Girlfriend] complained that she could hear inappropriate sounds coming from our bedroom the other night.”

Me: “But we just got back from [vacation] last night. Nobody was here.”

Husband: “I know. [Homeowner] called her out on it, and she got upset and ran off.”

(A few weeks later, I’ve picked up a box of a dozen donuts on my way home. As I’m unlocking my door, the son and girlfriend come outside and see me. As I get the door open, I wave hello, smile, then head inside, closing the door behind me.)

Husband: “[Homeowner’s Son] and his girlfriend threw a tantrum to [Homeowner], saying that you’re being unneighborly and rude. They said you bragged about your donuts, then didn’t invite them in to have any.”

Me: “Gee, I wonder why.”

(Nothing ever comes of their complaints.)