Or, The Ongoing Saga Of A Woman And Her Landlord
You can read about my moving adventures here.
So, I moved out of my crapbode a few weeks ago, and I must say that The Sweetie and I left it in fantabulous condition. Being a professional cleaner, he did a bang-up job, and that place was spotless. Seriously.
The last weekend there, John and and The Sweetie and I were hauling stuff out, and Evil Landlady (EL) came up to tell me that she knew that we’d thrown the couch in the dumpster (which we had…did I mention that it wasn’t coming back out of the apartment and The Sweetie hacked it up?) and that the garbage company was going to charge “like, $50” because the dumpster wasn’t closing.
(OMG!?!?!? Not Fifty Dollars! Now I can’t have my wedding! We can’t have children! I can’t have that life saving surgery! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!)
She said that we had the option of paying it (and she’d take it from my deposit) or we could take the couch out, and have it hauled off, or take it to the dump. As it had already been rained on for two days, and the rest of the building had put their trash on it for two days, AND we’d have to find and pay for the dump, we decided that $50 was a good price to pay to not do that.
Because the EL is such a stupid bitch, and because I had caught her lying before, I left her a note when I turned in the keys that said she was not authorized to take the money out of my deposit, but if she presented me with a bill, I would gladly pay whatever was over the regular charge.
And then, I kinda forgot about the whole thing.
However, this morning I was talking to K about deposits (she moved out of her apartment the same time I did) and was reminded of the whole garbage thing again. I had saved their number in my cell, and gave them a call this morning.
Guess what? They DO NOT charge extra as long as stuff is in the dumpster – no matter how much it sticks out. He also told me that there have been no extra charges, and sent me a fax, in writing, with a billing history, to that effect.
So, the EL lied to me. Again. (And, looking through old entries, it seems that I have not caught you up on the entire situation, but rest assured, she is a lying liar.)
Here’s my point for today: DO.NOT.FUCKING.LIE.TO.ME.*
*Especially when I can verify that you are lying to me.
I HATE lying. I try to avoid it as much as possible. I don’t like being lied to (unless that lie is about the relative size of my ass…then, knock yourself out). I have told Jeff that if he cheats on me, that’s all good….as long as he is honest about it. (His solution was, “How about we just don’t cheat on each other?” This is one of the many reasons that he is the Best Fiancé Ever.)
I can forgive just about anything, but lying is not one of those things. And it makes me especially mad when I can ever so easily (with a phone call) get written proof that you are lying to me. There is just about no circumstance where lying is better than telling the truth (unless it’s, again, about my butt, or what I got you for the upcoming gift-giving occasion).
I try very, very hard not to lie about things. It’s easier to do sometimes, than telling the truth. But there are two main reasons why I choose not to:
(1) The Moral – it’s just plain wrong. If you are my customer, I am not providing good service if I lie to you. If you are my friend or family member, I am being a bad friend or family member if I lie to you. If I cannot be honest with someone that I have a personal relationship with, then I should not be having a personal relationship what that person.
(2) The Practical – I have a terrible memory. I won’t lie to you because I can’t remember that I have long enough to keep it up. I barely remember what really happened, let alone trying to keep track of something that didn’t.