Along with a $59 remainder check and that defecated-on feeling, I was left with a strange feeling of helplessness when my landlord hoarded about 80 percent of my old apartment's collective $1500 deposit.
Regardless of the lies and exaggerations in the landlords' point-by-point analysis, I knew it was best to forget about it, wipe myself down and just move on.
Then I read the letter again: The condition of the premises was that of significant damage
neglect and unsanitary filthG?Due to the penetration of filth in the living room and bedroom carpeting and padding required replacement.
When I moved in to my terrible apartment, there were bizarre smells everywhere: thinned-out fertilizer in the living room, dirty feet in the hallways, rotting lemons in my closet. I woke each morning to the smell of what seemed like fresh hamburger grease.
Despite the three- or four-hour cleaning binge before moving out, the smells remained, our collective deposit hoarded and that feeling of helplessness finally set in.
But I seem like a baby with all this when compared to other cases'it's only $241/person. Some have been abused and defecated on by their landlords to a far greater extent.
One bizarre example is the case between super-landlord John Wharton and the tenants at 15 Park Place.
According to a May 31 Post article, the residents claim that Wharton ignored various health and safety code violations that were surely not their fault, all the while the students disregarded three eviction notices and filled the yard with cans of Natural Light.
It's hard to know who, exactly, is to blame. But that is one of the big ones with more lawyers, court appearances and press coverage.
We little babies who want the rest of our $241 simply dial up the landlord and call them liars. They call us the same, then accuse us of being disgusting people, which we should be ashamed of.
For the little babies, you can also file a complaint against the 'lord in question through OU's Landlord Sharing Program so as to help future tenants.
Or you could go to Student Legal Services, where they will stroke your trembling hand, look you deep in the eyes and say that there is hope. There, they might mention how sometimes landlords settle quickly because they pay court costs themselves, whereas students only pay the quarterly $8 legal fee.
But when the only evidence is your shaky scent memories, you know it would be a losing battle.
I don't have any proof but
um
the tenant would say, the place smelled before I moved in. Really
it did. She's charging us for damage that we didn't even do. We cleaned! I swear it!
To which the landlord would reply, The tenant is a liar. I hate him. He is a disgusting man and a propagator of filth.
What few options remain for us babies are naturally sophomoric; forking the offender's yard, dumping sugar in gas tanks or plastic-wrapping their doorways.
Or one could resort to defamation, such as:
My former landlord
[OMITTED] of [OMITTED] screwed me out of my deposit. Legal Services told me it's not the first case. Potential tenants of [OMITTED] be warned. Also
she sent us too many e-mails
which were in all caps and seemed needlessly intrusive.
Half the time, the only retaliation students have is to share information with future tenants about the slumlords of Athens. You could post flyers around those neighborhoods, talk with new residents or file complaints with the school.
They might be the only good ways to wash away those feelings of excrement and helplessness.
Or forking. That would probably do the trick, too.
' Justin Noga is a senior English major who hardly condones vandalism. Send him an email at jn108203@ohiou.edu.
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