PlatKat.com: Five-Sevenths Full of Win

Monday, January 28, 2008

Five-Sevenths Full of Win

Today was the big day. I GOT SUED! I'll start from the beginning, and I'll try to be brief even though that is almost impossible for me.

In early December, I attempted to sublet an apartment from a creepy guy with a nice(ish) house in Kirkland. We will call him Creepy Noel. I had a weird feeling about him, but I needed a more stable living situation and I was having trouble finding exactly what I wanted. I've lived in some pretty weird conditions before, so I figured I could handle almost anything.

Of course, after I moved in and signed a written agreement, the caveats came rolling out: he doesn't have house keys ready, the tumbler to the lock on the front door is broken, the bedroom and bathroom doors don't have locks, he uses space heaters instead of regular heat to save money, he smokes, etc. Those things are not ideal, but tolerable. I dealt with similar shit back in California during my short stay with See-What-Happens Larry.

The situation is almost exactly the same, actually. An older, single guy falls on hard times and needs a roommate. But since he's been single for so long, his sense of what is normal (vs. erratic, vs. fucking crazy) is somewhat (or very) skewed. Suddenly, his prayers are answered and Satan sends his beautiful spawn (that's me) and her bank account right to his front porch.

Since I'm being brief, I'll just touch upon the creepy feeling this guy gave me. He smiled just a little too big, winked when he talked to me, acted just a little too needy. Employed as a mortgage lender, he had come out and said something to the effect that he wished he had my job at Microsoft right now since the real estate market is so bad. This is just one manifestation of his desperation, of course. It was See-What-Happens Larry all over again: As his roommate, his money troubles were suddenly my problem.

Think again.

This time, I didn't give him notice that I was moving out. My tolerance for dealing with the terminally fucked had severely waned, so I had to go. There were two deal-breakers:

1. The bathroom door in which I was to shower not only didn't lock, it didn't close all the way. That's kind of a big deal, especially since it was right across from Creepy Noel's bedroom. There was another roommate with whom I was to share this bathroom. That wasn't a big deal, but it meant the house was being occupied by one more person who could walk in on me showering if he wanted to.

2. I wrote Creepy Noel a check for rent from my New York account. He went to the bank the next day, somehow got it in his head that it would take 10-15 days to clear, and despite our rental agreement, decided that it wasn't an acceptable form of payment anymore. But he deposited the check anyway. He told me later that night it was unacceptable, and followed up with a hostile e-mail the day after that, demanding that I stop payment on the check and wire him the money instead. That was my cue to bolt. This charming young Texan doesn't take too kindly to bullyin'.

(At his request, I did stop payment on the check, but then I got a little lazy...)

So that night, having nowhere to go, I went back to the house, packed up my shit, and got the hell out. He was markedly upset and threatened to serve me papers at work, which he later did. I was being sued for around $700 (a month's prorated rent plus deposit). I couldn't believe someone who had to be in his forties was hounding little ol' me for such a ridiculous amount. As I've already told many of my friends, if I ever get that pathetic, just shoot me in the face and let me die in pain.

I fretted and frowned, not worrying so much about being sued, but how the hell I was going to get to the courthouse in Issaquah without losing an entire day's work. I worried about that up until about 10:30 this morning when I mustered up the courage to ask a coworker for a ride. (I hate asking for favors.) He ended up lending me his car, which went above and beyond awesome.

I arrived at the courthouse super-early and waited. At the scheduled appearance time, a mediator gave her little speech about why mediation is better than a trial. Creepy Noel waltzed in at the tail-end of it, so she gave him a condensed version. He made clear that he was not willing to negotiate. My, what big balls you have, Grandmother! (sarcasm)

The judge then came out and addressed all the litigants. Although I was originally annoyed that I had to attend court way out in Butt-Fuck Issaquah instead of Seattle proper, I was thanking my lucky stars at that point. The court was scheduled to hear one other dispute besides ours. The judge reiterated the benefits of mediation and once again strongly encouraged it as a means of settling our disputes. Creepy Noel was having none of it.

The judge then made a speech about how often times litigants don't talk to each other. They may have discussions via e-mail or phone, but there isn't enough face-to-face interaction. She asked all litigants to leave the courtroom, have a conversation, and see if things couldn't be worked out without a trial.

Having worked remotely for several companies in the past, I am well aware of the value of face-time. Discussing a matter with someone personally is indeed the ideal way to solve a conflict. That is, unless the other party is fucking crazy.

We went out into to the hallway. I told Creepy Noel that I had written him a letter in response to his lawsuit. I asked if he had received it, knowing he refused receipt on purpose, as I had sent it via Certified Mail. I gave him a copy of the letter, in which I offered to pay rent for the nights I was there. (I had done this verbally as I was moving out as well.) This, of course, was not enough for him—it wasn't even the amount of the court costs if that gives you an idea—and back into the courtroom we went.

"You weren't gone nearly long enough," chided the judge. "Let's try again. Go back out into the hall. I don't want to see you in here for at least 20 more minutes."

Great. Out of all the judges in the world, I get my old second-grade teacher. Back out into the hallway we went.

We sat in silence for a moment.

"I don't understand why you believe I owe you $740," I said. "The check I wrote to you wasn't even in that amount. I brought a copy with me."

"You didn't give me proper notice and we're obviously not going to work anything out here," he replied. "So how is your job at Microsoft?" he asked, smiling eagerly.

"I'm not here to talk about that with you," I replied.

A moment of silence passed.

"Our agreement stated that I could write you a personal check. I stopped payment on it at your request," I said.

"I'm not going to argue about this with you," he said.

"Look, I'm doing what the judge asked us to do," I said. "I don't feel comfortable talking about this any more than you do. I didn't feel comfortable dealing with you after the way you handled my payment, and I didn't feel comfortable living in your house. In fact, I don't even feel comfortable talking to you right now without another person here, but since we are here—"

Before I finished that sentence, he walked away, saying, "Fine, I'll stand at this end of the hallway then."

Maturity abounds. I rolled my eyes and returned to the courtroom. He followed me in several moments later. The two of us sat in the deafeningly silent courtroom, alone, for about 10 minutes. I read a book, while he stared at the wall pondering how he came to be such a douchebag.

The judge was not pleased. Courtarity ensued. (FYI to the uninitiated, I made that word up.)

Suddenly, wicked second-grade teacher transformed into wicked Judge Judy, which I appreciated and respected immensely more.

The judge asked Creepy Noel why he thinks I owe him $740. There must have been an echo somewhere.

She went on to question his justification for demanding the entire deposit in his suit. He claimed that I stole one pillowcase from his house and that it was part of a complete set he bought at CostCo. He voluntarily gave her the cost of the set, which was still less than half the deposit. Instead of laughing him out of the room, which she seemed to want to do, she demanded to know if he had sent me a 14-day notice. He tried to say some off-topic shit, but she interrupted him with the same question again.

"If you're going to withhold any amount of a renter's deposit, you need to send a 14-day notice. Did you do it or not?" she demanded.

He sputtered and stumbled, and I smiled. She continued to badger him a little and then she questioned me. Unlike what you see on the day-time court TV shows, you don't have to tell your entire story; the judge's questions were very specific. I went in there planning to do very little talking anyway, and was pleased to find I had to do even less than I expected. I told her I entered the agreement in good faith, but found his breach of contract regarding my payment disconcerting and I didn't feel I could live comfortably in his house. I also gave her a brief run-down of the caveats I encountered after signing the agreement. As I did that, Creepy Noel interrupted me. This was expected and welcomed behavior, as was the judge's reaction.

"Didn't I just give you a chance to speak? Wasn't she quiet while you were speaking? Would you like me to interrupt you or think about something else while you're speaking?" She continued this chastisement for what I think amounted to half the time of the overall trial. I continued to smile.

She also asked him what the contract said regarding form of payment. He was quiet for a long time. He settled for reading item #1 of our agreement verbatim, stating that a personal check was an acceptable form of payment.

In all fairness, the judge had also asked me what the contract said regarding giving notice. I said I didn't know, since I don't like to divulge information that could weaken my case. (This is not only true in court, but anywhere, so you can forget about my answering, "What is your biggest failure?" in a job interview.) That apparently sufficed.

The judge gave us each a chance to tell her anything we may have left out. I summarized my argument, stating that I was willing to deal with the imperfections of the house, but his not accepting my payment forced me to leave. I felt uncomfortable and unsafe in the home and now the presence of this person. He took the opportunity to enlighten her as to the many amenities of his wonderful house. She interrupted him, saying this was a case of why he thinks I should pay him over $700, not what his house looks like. Yes, I like where this is going.

BUT.

There's always a but. But I should have given him more notice, she said. And even more quickly than she could smack this guy's ego to the depths of hell, she awarded him 10 days of rent instead of the two I offered to pay. This means I owe him about $200.

It's less than the price of a moderate hotel stay, and it's certainly not going to break me. I would have preferred to win the case outright of course, but perhaps it's better that I didn't. If he walked away without a single dime, he may have tried to appeal. While nothing is stopping from doing that now, he has less of an incentive to appeal when he can just take the $200 and be done with it.

It's kind of like being held up. I remember being told you should carry about seven dollars separately from the rest of your money, so if someone attempts to mug you, you can throw the money in one direction and run in the other. The assailant is likely to chase the money, and you can get away safely.

My M.O. in this whole shit storm was to get away safely, and I did. Words can't express how glad I am that this is over.

The judge told us that we could each take a copy of the judgment from the clerk sitting beside her. I let him walk up there first, and then I did. As I was putting away the piece of paper, Creepy Noel turned to me and asked, "Do you want to pay me now?"

The clerk said, "She has 30 days."

"Do I have to pay him through the court?" I asked.

"You have to pay him directly," the clerk said.

I smiled and said, "I'll mail you a check."

In 30 days, from my New York account... jackass.

posted by platkat @ 3:22 PM