Where do I find these people, Chineke God of Allah?? When I was trying to sublet my apartment at the beginning of the summer, I came to realize how fickle the mind of the average American is. And selfish. And stupid. Very, very stupid. There was one Ghanaian in the mix, but I'm used to those ones frustrating me, so I won't talk about how he would phone me at 7 in the morning to ask me foolish questions about whether I wouldn't mind having him as a roommate in my one-bedroom apartment when I returned from Nigeria. No, I won't talk about that one. Let me talk about the six people that phoned and/or came to view the apartment, enthusiastically promising to return immediately with their deposit lest someone else snatch the place, and then disappear. At $500/mo for an $800/mo apartment, it was a steal, I have to say (thanks for your landlordship, Oga Landlord!). One of them started making me praise God prematurely as I happily packed my load. He came in OOZING of cologne (and he was white--shocking) and noticed that we had the same trainers and shared a love for guitars, heartily and readily agreed to take the apartment, happy that he was first in line, promised to come back in two days, then never answered his phone again when I called to ask "how far?". Then, the day I was moving out--in fact, I was carrying my last bag out to my rental SUV at the time--he called to say almost these exact words: "Hey, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch these past two weeks. I was planning a trip, so I didn't think I'd be able to take the apartment, but now I've cancelled and I remembered I was supposed to be moving in today. Is the apartment still available?" I said, "Yes, I've been waiting for you to call since. Ee-dyot." Then I hung up. He may not have gotten it, but it made me feel better. I sucked my teeth all the way to I-95.
Meanwhile, I did find someone. At the last minute, Tammy F. from Cornell University sent me an e-mail expressing an immediate interest. I was shocked when the first thing she did was ask me for my address so she could send me security deposit. I was even more shocked when I emailed her the subleasing contract and she faxed it back, signed, within a number of hours. I said, shooo, so God answers prayers true-true! Very responsible chick, man. I've never met her and never will, but she was the only one not giving me the runaround, so I had no choice but to agree to sublet to her. And things were going well. Oga Landlord used to go and check up on the place for me (let's not ask if that is standard procedure--we all know by now that things are a bit dodgy on that front), and give me feedback.
Then it happened. One day, he sent me an email saying, "Did you tell Tammy she could have a pet or did she tell you she was bringing an animal into the apartment? Because she's had a dog in there for three weeks now. I've asked her to confine it to the kitchen space, and it should be fine, but I just thought I should ask." All I could think of was my couch.
Let me see if I can bring this couch to life for you. When I found out I had to move to New Haven and that I didn't have any furniture to call my own except my bed and small TV, I went shopping. But this shopping was equivalent to hunting, because I decided that I didn't just want to buy one secondhand futon, some quarter-to-broken down dresser, some used dishes...I wanted to like everything I got. And the centerpiece of my living room was going to be my couch. I scoured North Carolina and the internet for the perfect couch. Each one I saw was too lumpy, or the wrong color, or too big, or too small. I was losing hope. Then, one day, I walked into the Carolina Sofa Factory, and was instantly filled with rays of light and elation. This chocolate-brown linen couch was on display, with deep, colorful cushions, and it glowed. I walked towards it with open arms and hugged its arm as I sank into its perfect seat. I saw the price tag and my heart cut, but I could not bring myself to walk away from this work of art. I phoned my sister and she said everything I needed to hear to convince myself that this was the right purchase for me to make. I bought the couch. I have treated it like an egg ever since. When my then-boyfriend came to visit me all the way from London, I told him that if he was going to put his feet on my couch, he should not rub them because he would leave dead skin that I may never be able to get out. He looked at me with incredulity, but I was unfazed--the couch had to be protected at all costs. And this girl was bringing dog into my apartment. Near my couch, perhaps even ON my couch.
And you people know how American dogs can SMELL! God forbid bad thing. I love dogs o, in fact I love most mammals. I had a gerbil named Ayo in NC that Adaure killed (though she denied it for almost one year), and I let him crawl all over me and my bed, sotey he chewed my remote control buttons (I'll never understand that). I like the warmth, I like the fur and, when they're clean, I even like the smell. But I love my couch more than any dog, and I would be damned if this girl thought she could get away with breaking our agreement and perfuming my apartment with Fragrance de Dog without even seeking permission! I wrote her an email and told her that she should get rid of her animal with a quickness, or I would consider her in breach and keep her security deposit. I copied Oga Landlord on the email, and he applauded it. She, on the other hand, told me that I didn't tell her anything about pets and that she will be expecting her security deposit when she leaves. My head was too hot when I responded to her email, so I'm not really sure of everything I said. But I'm pretty sure I reminded her that any fool knows that they should read their leasing contract, especially when someone has gone to the trouble of finishing her last ink and paper to print it out for you and left you a note on top telling you to be sure to read it, where you will see in black and white that NO PETS ARE ALLOWED ON THE PROPERTY!! I also reminded her that I'm a fair person and that provided the place is cool when I get back, she'll get her money back, but in the meantime, I don't want any creatures in my apartment. There is a reason I've deigned from having a pet this year, then it is her own that she thinks I'll be cool with. Wonders shall never cease.
She didn't respond to the email. Then yesterday, Oga Landlord sent me another email informing me that the babe don ja, but that she didn't pay her rent for August before she left. I started laughing to myself. So she cannot read, but she knows how to do original 419. Basically, Tammy F. was using cunny to make me convert her one-month security deposit into rent. In my mind, this was because she had trashed my place and wanted me to be able to do nothing about it because I would have none of the deposit left. But luckily, I was laughing, so my email to her was quite calm as I asked her whether she just forgot to pay before she left or what? She replied that she didn't think forget, she just didn't think I would be fair with her just because she had a dog (which she never got rid of, by the way) and that she felt like no matter what she did, I was going to keep the deposit. Even now sef, my blood de boil. Can you imagine the nerve of this bitch? Ok, ok, she doesn't know me from Adam, but how can you now call me a thief just because you are an illiterate engineering student from Cornell? A whole Ivy League institution. You no de shame? But, as Desmina enjoys telling me, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and even though na vinegar full my mouth most of the time, I managed to squeeze out a few drops of the sweet stuff and convinced her to send Oga Landlord his rent check and let her security deposit serve its purpose. She said that she will send him his check next week.
If that girl smells $1 from that security deposit when I get back, my name is not kulutempa*. Ee-dyot.
*Lol...I'm kidding, but Lord, I wish I could be that sort of person sometimes.
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1 comment:
Ah!! Oyinbo has played you 419.
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