Screwed by a Deceitful Asshole

A lesson in trust, by Benek

One day, on a pleasant early summer morning, Benek and Jenny signed a tenancy agreement for a flat to rent. They had a verbal agreement with the landlord that the house would be "off the market," once rented. According the Tenancy Act, verbal agreements carry just as much weight as written ones and should be considered as part of the contract.

Benek and Jenny were excited to move into their new place on the waterfront the following weekend, and began purchasing furniture and other items. They had phone and internet connections installed in anticipation of the move.

A few days later, Mr Landlord (we'll call him Ken) decided it was OK if he sell the flat. Apparently, considering/accepting offers on the sale of the property somehow is not included in his special definition of "off the market." Ken is a deceitful, heartless fuckwit. He doesn't feel guilty about screwing his new tenants before they even get a chance to move in. He doesn't even apologize.

This made Benek and Jenny feel sad and very angry, and wishing that by accident someone's fist might happened to run into Ken's face, or perhaps he could slip and land with his man-parts on a passerby's steel-toed boot.

Now Benek and Jenny wait for Ken's decisive call to see if the sale is going to happen (again!). They have already put a stop payment order on the bond/first-two-weeks-rent-check. If the property does eventually not sell they plan to demand a new fixed term contract with a special written amendment detailing the ways in which Ken is not allowed to fuck them over in the future, if they agree to deal with him at all again.

Benek and Jenny are forced to make arrangements and pay unnecessary fees for services they never even got a chance to use as a result of Ken's breach of contract. They are considering taking him to the Tenancy Tribunal but don't know if it's worth the hassle.

Now Benek's 300th blip comes up tomorrow and he will be in a bad mood and unable to celebrate properly. He wonders what he's going to do with a new sofa he doesn't have room for. He wishes, when he had to waste half his morning going down to the flat to collect some items he'd already moved in before the real estate agent gave a final walkthrough to the potential buyers, that he would have had the urge to do an upper-decker in the fresh clean toilet.

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horizon + poetry + patchwork