When our landlord hiked our rent by $650, it was the last straw. Living in a rundown apartment with a broken fridge and constant harassment pushed us to the edge. Determined to get revenge, we concocted a clever plan to make him regret his greed and teach him an unforgettable lesson.
Dennis here. Let me tell you about the time my wife, Amber, and I dealt with the landlord from hell while saving for our dream house. It’s been a rollercoaster, but we learned a lot along the way.
So, picture this: Amber and I moved into this tiny, run-down apartment a little over a year ago.
We were pinching pennies, trying to save up for a place of our own. The apartment was our stepping stone. Small, but we made it work. Amber decorated the place with some second-hand finds and DIY projects. I swear, she can make anything look good.
The trouble started right from the get-go.
We met our landlord, Mr. Williams, during the lease signing. Now, this guy looked like he had stepped right out of a 1980s corporate villain movie. Slicked-back hair, smug smile, and a suit that screamed “I have power, and I love it.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams,” Amber said, ever the polite one.
“Likewise,” he replied, barely looking up from the paperwork. “Let’s get this done quickly. I have other matters to attend to.”
We went through the motions, signing here and there. And then, like an idiot, I mentioned my income.
Yeah, a hundred grand a year. It slipped out when I was filling out some income verification. Mr. Williams’ eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.
“$100k, huh? Impressive,” he said, his tone dripping with newfound interest. “Glad to have tenants who can pay on time.”
Amber shot me a look, but it was too late. The damage was done.
Once we moved in, we quickly realized the place needed way more than a make-over.
The fridge made a noise like a dying whale, the washer shook so violently I thought it was possessed, and the faucets leaked incessantly. The toilet, oh man, the toilet would randomly refuse to flush, turning our bathroom into a no-go zone.
“Mr. Williams, the fridge is acting up again,” I called one evening.
He sighed heavily. “What did you do to it now?”
“Nothing. It just stopped working,” I replied, trying to keep my frustration in check.
“Well, I’m sure it’s your fault. I’ll come by when I have time.”
And come by he did, unannounced and often at the worst times. Once, he showed up while Amber was home alone. She called me in a panic.
“Dennis, he’s here again,” she whispered over the phone. “He just let himself in!”
“Stay on the line,” I said, rushing home. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”