Just when you thought you'd never hear another Frau story again....
On Saturday, I put my rent into the mailbox for the Frau to collect as usual. I put it in a regulation size #10 envelope, as usual.
On Tuesday, Gladys Kravitz stopped me on my way out the door in the morning to tell me that Frau doesn't have my phone number (she does) and that she needs to speak with me. I called her when I got to work and this was the first sentence she said "What's up with your rent?" Not Hello. Not, "I checked the mailbox and didn't see your check. Did you forget?" No, just a rude, angry "what's up with your rent?" I explained that I put it in there and it should be there, but she insisted it was not.
"Okay, I'll drop a check in the box when I get home and stop payment on the other one," I explained. Well, before she let me hang up the phone on Tuesday she repeated several times that she checked the mailbox for three days and my check is not in there. I assured her that I DID put the check in there on Saturday and that maybe someone took it, or it got mixed up with the others, but for whatever reason, I'll happily put a new check in the box. And that's exactly what I did, with a note telling her to go ahead and destroy the other check if she finds it.
Today--Friday, three days later--she left a voicemail on my cell phone. "You had the check all the time with you. Then you gave me another check. I never lost your check. I never saw your check. The other day I picked up the check I told you to put in the box. You HAD the check. You just shoved it over there because I looked everywhere for a check. There was no check. I don't know what's your story here. You say keep the check. Throw away the check. I don't know. You give me two checks except one is dated the first and one is dated the fourth. You never gave me a check and now you're trying to cover it up. I just want to tell you this is not acceptable." No, what IS unacceptable is that voicemail.
I have lived in that apartment for 13 years and have NEVER not paid my rent. I don't complain. Other than the leaky faucets (not my fault) she hardly hears a peep from me. You'd think that she would give me the benefit of the doubt. Especially since the other two times she has accused me of not paying on time, I proved her wrong by walking over to the mailbox, reaching in, and pulling out the check that she swore was not in there. Now either I'm a powerful sorcerer or she needs longer arms.
And just like that a nice pleasant Friday was ruined. If only I could afford to move...