Saturday, May 16, 2015
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Life
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I had a 60ish friend (whom I'll simply call "my friend") who was living with her late-20's daughter (whom I'll call the "daughter") and the daughter's daughter. They were being evicted from their apartment because of the daughter, who was nasty and ill-tempered and generally took delight in alienating people (including their landlord). Out of sympathy for my friend, I told her that the apartment under mine had become vacant, and that it would be perfect for the three of them. I only asked one thing of my friend: Since her daughter liked to play loud music, I asked my friend to take the bedroom under mine. I like to sleep late every morning, and I didn't want to be awakened by her daughter. My friend, rather cagily, never actually agreed. Instead, she played down the amount of noise her daughter made, and she assured me that everything would be all right.
When they moved in, my friend didn't take the bedroom under mine. Rather, she gave it to her daughter because the other bedroom was a little larger and had a private toilet. (I realized later that she had made this decision before they moved in, so she ignored my wishes right from the start.) Two days after they moved in, the daughter blasted me out of bed with loud rock music. That started a four-month period in which the daughter woke me up periodically, despite the fact that she knew I slept late. Because I didn't know which mornings she would let me sleep and which mornings she would wake me up, I never slept well. After four months, I set up a temporary bed in my office, but even in there the daughter periodically woke me up with music that was so loud that I could hear it from the bedroom. The landlord eventually got involved and made the daughter promise to keep the noise down, but the daughter didn't stick to her promise.
Needless to say, neither my friend nor her daughter ever showed any gratitude to me for finding them a place to live. In fact, both of them seemed to resent me because I had done them a favor. I realized later that they were the kind of people who don't like to feel indebted to anyone, so they denied that I had ever helped them. My friend (now my ex-friend) even claimed that I hadn't actually gotten them the apartment, which I certainly had (they wouldn't have known about it if I hadn't told them, since it wasn't being advertised). One year after they moved in, I moved out.
But the story doesn't end there.
The daughter was a "boy magnet". She would smoke outside the front of the building, and before long she was hooking up with various men in the neighborhood, many of whom had shady pasts. One of them was a homeless man in his early 30's who had lived in a tent all summer. The daughter introduced the homeless man to the landlord's granddaughter, who lived on the third floor, and he moved in with her (against the landlord's wishes). The homeless man was a pothead living on the dole, and he also had an arrest record, mostly for abusing and stalking women, but also for theft. In the mean time, the homeless man's half-brother was in jail for theft. When the half-brother got out of jail, he hooked up with the daughter on the first floor and moved in with her (also against the landlord's wishes, but with the consent of her mother, my ex-friend). The homeless man who had moved into the third floor was an angry manic-depressive who liked to blast music, so the third-floor tenants started blasting music and having fights, which also woke me up. So by the time I moved, there were two criminals living in the building, and there was loud music coming from both upstairs and downstairs. (Actually, there were three criminals: The daughter on the first floor was known to deal drugs, something I didn't know when I brought them into the building. After they moved in, the daughter got a job at Dunkin' Donuts but was fired when the security tapes showed her selling drugs to some of the drive-up customers.)
As I fought with these people to try to sleep in the mornings, they all hated me more and more. The misogynist on the third floor took to yelling ugly things at me through my front and back doors (but was always a coward when we were face to face). By the time I left, they all considered me to be the problem tenant in the building. Yet all I ever wanted was to sleep late, and to have a quiet home life.
When they moved in, my friend didn't take the bedroom under mine. Rather, she gave it to her daughter because the other bedroom was a little larger and had a private toilet. (I realized later that she had made this decision before they moved in, so she ignored my wishes right from the start.) Two days after they moved in, the daughter blasted me out of bed with loud rock music. That started a four-month period in which the daughter woke me up periodically, despite the fact that she knew I slept late. Because I didn't know which mornings she would let me sleep and which mornings she would wake me up, I never slept well. After four months, I set up a temporary bed in my office, but even in there the daughter periodically woke me up with music that was so loud that I could hear it from the bedroom. The landlord eventually got involved and made the daughter promise to keep the noise down, but the daughter didn't stick to her promise.
Needless to say, neither my friend nor her daughter ever showed any gratitude to me for finding them a place to live. In fact, both of them seemed to resent me because I had done them a favor. I realized later that they were the kind of people who don't like to feel indebted to anyone, so they denied that I had ever helped them. My friend (now my ex-friend) even claimed that I hadn't actually gotten them the apartment, which I certainly had (they wouldn't have known about it if I hadn't told them, since it wasn't being advertised). One year after they moved in, I moved out.
The daughter was a "boy magnet". She would smoke outside the front of the building, and before long she was hooking up with various men in the neighborhood, many of whom had shady pasts. One of them was a homeless man in his early 30's who had lived in a tent all summer. The daughter introduced the homeless man to the landlord's granddaughter, who lived on the third floor, and he moved in with her (against the landlord's wishes). The homeless man was a pothead living on the dole, and he also had an arrest record, mostly for abusing and stalking women, but also for theft. In the mean time, the homeless man's half-brother was in jail for theft. When the half-brother got out of jail, he hooked up with the daughter on the first floor and moved in with her (also against the landlord's wishes, but with the consent of her mother, my ex-friend). The homeless man who had moved into the third floor was an angry manic-depressive who liked to blast music, so the third-floor tenants started blasting music and having fights, which also woke me up. So by the time I moved, there were two criminals living in the building, and there was loud music coming from both upstairs and downstairs. (Actually, there were three criminals: The daughter on the first floor was known to deal drugs, something I didn't know when I brought them into the building. After they moved in, the daughter got a job at Dunkin' Donuts but was fired when the security tapes showed her selling drugs to some of the drive-up customers.)
As I fought with these people to try to sleep in the mornings, they all hated me more and more. The misogynist on the third floor took to yelling ugly things at me through my front and back doors (but was always a coward when we were face to face). By the time I left, they all considered me to be the problem tenant in the building. Yet all I ever wanted was to sleep late, and to have a quiet home life.
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