Moving Hassle III – The Aftermath

25 Dec

So. I left the house on 24th Street NW. After five years of timely rental payments and an unmatched dedication to keeping the house clean and cozy my landlady Cavan and her agent Jim basically harassed me out of the building. As it looks, there still remains legal fallout.

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!

As you recall, I did not pay rent for my last month, August 2016. I used the damage deposit in lieu of last month’s rent. In doing so I followed the advice of the previous tenant, and what a clever decision that was! My lease ended more than three months ago, and to this day I have not received a move-out report, or any other news regarding my deposit.

However, on move-out day I did receive a copy of a court file. The “court application” basically opened a court case that circles around my rental payment for August. Apparently Cavan did not agree with me using the damage deposit in lieu of actual rent. Yet, instead of telling me so, she decided to ask for her money in court.

The last pages of that document actually contain my latest e-mail to her, which states that a) the rent exceeds the deposit by $220, and b) I paid some $800 worth of materials that really Cavan should have been accountable for. Whatever happens with that case (and I am not sticking around to find out), my arguments are already in the file. The case could not be any more convenient for me!

 

Monetary Considerations

Now, court work is not cheap, and certainly not free. Jim paid an application fee of $250 for opening that case. Considering that the maximum amount of money he can possibly make with this case is $220, the whole process seems to bite its own tail. Like a snake that somehow got addicted to pain. Then again, that describes Jim pretty well.

I will never read the whole file, because it becomes repetitive and boring within the first two paragraphs. But in an idle minute I flipped through it, and the second page offers something of a redemption. I was invited to state my “side of this matter before the Court”, on the morning of September 1st. Obviously, I do enjoy court talk as much as the next masochist, and I certainly welcomed the opportunity to “communicate” with Jim under adult supervision. Alas, I did have one or two more things to do before leaving Calgary, and my departure was already scheduled for September 2nd.

So … No. I did not go to court one day before leaving the country. I just couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I biked some fifteen kilometres through Calgary, returned a book to the library, returned my internet router to Shaw, took some pretty photos of the city, and deposited my bike at a friend’s place.

I may never fully understand Jim’s motivation behind filing that case. Especially since he already knew that I was leaving the country, potentially forever. But, yes, next time I’m in town there may or may not be a court case regarding my rent. We may never find out. Or even care, because I do not intend to go back and ask. And I seriously doubt that the border personal will deny me re-entry for denied rental payment.

Calgary Downtown

Even during a thunderstorm the skyline of Downtown Calgary has some grace to it.

All the stuff

As I mentioned, Jim proved to be a considerable ass, and Cavan, in her infinite wisdom, sent him around multiple times to harass us. He did not even take the house keys that I offered him, even though he did not have any of his own. To this day he does not have keys for the front door, at least not from anyone I know.

Since we were booted out in such a rude manner we obviously contemplated legal options of making the returned house a sour win for our master and mistress. As you recall, I had acquired a lot of furniture for that house, and didn’t want to give any of it to Cavan. I’m not a revengeful person, but she just didn’t deserve any more good from me than I was legally obliged to offer.

One might imagine that a money-driven landlord would sponsor his own collection of moth-infested mattresses and chewed-on desks, but in this case one would be imagining wrongly. Out of the dozen mattresses, same number of chairs, and half that number of desks none were owned by Jim or Cavan. Just about ALL the furniture in that house had been organised by the previous tenant or me. I tried selling stuff on Kijiji, and even hosted a multi-day super-bargain garage sale. But after two months of effort the house was still stuffed with items and furniture that rightfully belonged to me.

During their hasty move-out many of my house mates actually packed up as much stuff as they could carry, just to leave less behind. “No, I don’t eat toast! Maybe I can fry a steak in that?!”

Yet, furniture and kitchen utensils still bloomed on every carpet when I revisited the house in a last attempt to wreak havoc. Must. Leave. NOTHING!

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.

Hello Friend!

Alas, my AirBnB guest Gilles was still booked in, and needed final attention. Gilles had just singed a lease agreement for a three-bedroom flat that was to house himself and his wife. For his misfortune and my amusement the flat came unfurnished.

For our mutual benefit Gilles found visual comfort in the furniture, utensils, and house hold items that my ex-house was pickled with. A few phone calls and several Canadian bills later a moving van stopped in front of the house, and removed every scrap of usable house hold item in my possession. Gilles got his furnished apartment. I got my grand finale. A beautiful magic trick that left Cavan and Jim a clean, yet utterly unfurnished house. One that they don’t even have keys for.

I’m sure they solved both of those problems, and billed someone for it. But, man, did I ever sleep well.

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