Moving Hassle II – Move-Out Day

18 Dec

As described in the last blog post, I once rented a house on 24th Street in Calgary NW. For five years I laboured to keep that house clean and comfortable. At the end of August 2016 I returned it to the hands of the landlady Cavan and her property manager Jim. I did not expect any thanks from them regarding the time and money that I spent on the house, but I was not prepared for the harassment that came with move-out day.

 

The new living room of Cavan's house.

This is the living room I left behind. It came a long way from that shabby house I took over.

As mentioned, Cavan was not quite happy with my proposal to use the damage deposit in lieu of rental payment for August. The way she communicated that with me was by sending Jim around, ten days before September. Jim stood at the doorstep, together with his brother, and handed me a move-out notice, signed by himself and witnessed by his brother. At the same time he told me that I could not use the deposit as rental payment. Upon me telling him that I already had done so, and he was free to argue his case with me, Jim just said: “I don’t discuss with you. I am just messenger.”

He spun around three times in his black leather shoe, and vanished in a puff of smoke.

 

Law and Disorder

Call me naïve, if you must, but until that day I believed that a land lady needs to provide thirty days worth of notice to usher a tenant out of the property. I told my house mates as much, and they agreed. Thus, we all just continued living in the house. Let Jim come around, and stalk around the house, he didn’t have any legal right to touch us! Or did he?

Well, at the very least Jim reserved the right to be obnoxious. One week before move-out he came around again, telling me that I had to leave, and I should call the legal service. He actually gave me a phone number, scribbled into the corner of a sheet of paper that already contained a hand-written move-out notice, two addresses, and multiple signatures. I posted a picture of said paper, so you can try for yourself to decipher any of the symbols imprinted on it.

The phone number did not actually lead anywhere, and when I pointed that out in an e-mail later that day, Jim sent me another number. That the second number did not work either should not come as a surprise.

Thus I went back to my travel preparations. Afterall, my plane was to leave Calgary on the 2nd of September, so there was little time to waste on pointless arguments with the “messenger”.

 

Jim's move-out notice

Two of the notes that my landlady’s agent Jim taped to my front door. In his best hand writing as well!

All the young boys

Meanwhile, all but one of my house mates confirmed moving plans of their own. The only one who didn’t was our resident hospital doctor. Believe it or not, he was the only one who could not afford to pay the deposit on a new room. Yes, the payment for new doctors at the Foothills Hospital is THAT shitty. Not to mention the student loan agencies that subtract their monthly contributions from his pay cheque, the very second that he deposits it. But on to other problems.

At that time I had four house mates. The doctor, unable to relocate. One who moved out that weekend, because he did not want to deal with Jim any more. One made arrangements to move across the street into his old home. And one confirmed a new place, but only could move two days after move-out day. Yes, week days are genuinely bad for hauling stuff around.

On top of that I had two AirBnB guests scheduled. One was in town for a conference, and was scheduled to leave on the 30th of August. The other was a visitor from France, scheduled to move in on the 30th. And stay until the 1st of September. Considering that I was supposed to hand over the house on the 31st, one might expect trouble from that time table.

 

Goemon5's moving boxes

Until two weeks before I left Calgary I was still packing. So, no, I did not pay too much attention to my landlady’s squabbles.

Return of the Jim

Sure enough, on the 31st Jim knocked violently at the door, no later than when he was summoned. He really wanted to visit at noon, but I told him 4 p.m. was a more suitable time. My five years of training him paid off, and he arrived as told. That visit consisted mostly of myself and one house mate sitting on the sofa, asking him to settle down, and discuss matters with us. Meanwhile Jim was hectically flailing his little arms about, telling us “You have to move out. You cannot stay here.”

He even managed to call the tenancy hot line of the City of Calgary, and demanded that the man on the phone explain to me that I could not stay. Which he did. Apparently once a lease agreement runs out, the landlord can set you on the street overnight. So, yeah. Be aware, Calgary tenants!

How we were to leave the house in the blink of an eye, considering that we did not have the ability to move our possessions before the weekend, might have been an interesting question to answer. As was the matter of cleaning and packing while Jim was doing his best to stand in our way. But never try to use logic on a Chinese demon; you might as well try to argue with a Trump. It only pains your brain.

At that point we had quite enough of Jim shouting at us, so I made one last attempt to fill in the move-out report, and other paperwork that he wanted. I even picked up the keys for front door and tenant rooms, dangled them in his face, and asked him to take the house.

As loud and insolently as he demanded everyone out before that, when I showed him the keys he just as quickly turned on his heels and swirled out of the house. Leaving the keys in my hands and yelling the magic formula “You have to move out; You cannot stay here,” he evaporated before us, leaving behind another assemblage of Chinese runes on paper, and the faint smell of burned sulphur.

 

Cavan Yee and friends

One of the few surviving visual documents of landaly Cavan Yu (left), seen here conspiring to move some yet uninvolved people.

Enough already!

Jim returned twice more that evening, shouting and harassing as before. I was tempted to shout back, just to get the attention of neighbours and coppers, but unfortunately I had better things to do. Departure from Canada was two days away, and I still had to finish some business, and pack some stuff.

I decided that it would be best if I moved out on the spot. Fortunately, I have friends in Calgary, and Jon and Donna were both happy about me staying as a guest in their homes for one night each. With myself gone I hoped that everyone else in the house would be able to sleep quietly. As the only tenant on the lease I was the only one who could be made accountable for poking imaginative holes into cardboard walls. So, with me gone there really was no point in harassing anyone else.

I packed all of my belongings into an armful of bags, and hauled it off to Jon’s place, where I spent the next few hours I) packing my luggage for the flight, and II) playing some games with Jon and Dave, in a farewell to seven years Calgary experience. It wasn’t what I thought my move-out day would look like, but it certainly beat harassment from Jim.

 

Moving out apparently had some positive effect on the situation. Everyone was motivated to leave the house quickly after me, and Jim only shouted at the neighbourhood once more that night. Even though I returned to the house multiple times over the next two days, I never saw him again. That would be the end of it, but we still need to resolve the matter of keys, furniture, and my AirBnB guest from France. I shall do so in the next blog.

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