Dennis here. Let me tell you about the time my wife, Amber, and I had to deal with the worst landlord ever while saving for our dream house. It was a wild ride, but we learned a lot.
Amber and I moved into a tiny, rundown apartment just over a year ago. We were pinching pennies to save for our own place. The apartment was our stepping stone. Small but manageable. Amber decorated it with second-hand finds and DIY projects.
From the start, things went wrong.
We met our landlord, Mr. Williams, during the lease signing. He looked like he stepped out of an 80s corporate villain movie—slicked-back hair, smug smile, and a suit that screamed power.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams,” Amber said.
“Likewise,” he replied, barely looking up. “Let’s get this done quickly. I have other matters.”
I mentioned my income—$100k a year—while filling out paperwork. Mr. Williams’ eyes lit up.
“$100k, huh? Impressive,” he said, now interested. “Glad to have tenants who can pay on time.”
Amber shot me a look, but it was too late.
Once we moved in, we found the place needed much more than a makeover. The fridge sounded like a dying whale, the washer shook violently, and the faucets leaked incessantly. The toilet randomly refused to flush.
A couple cleaning | Source: Pexels
“Mr. Williams, the fridge is acting up again,” I called.
“What did you do to it now?” he replied, annoyed.
“Nothing. It just stopped working,” I said.
He sighed. “I’ll come by when I have time.”
Mr. Williams showed up unannounced, often at the worst times. Once, he let himself in while Amber was alone. She called me in a panic.
“Dennis, he’s here again. He just let himself in!”
“Stay on the line,” I said, rushing home. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
By the time I arrived, he was gone, leaving Amber shaken. We were stuck. Moving out would mean dipping into our savings.
For a whole year, we endured his neglect and unannounced visits. As our lease ended, we were close to finishing construction on our new house. We asked Mr. Williams to extend our lease by two months.
“Sure,” he said with a grin. “But the rent’s going up. By $650 a month.”
“$650? Are you kidding me?” I nearly choked.
“Take it or leave it,” he shrugged. “It’s business.”
We had no choice but to agree. We cut back on everything—eating out, entertainment, even groceries.
When it was time to move out, we cleaned the apartment until it was spotless. But when we asked for our deposit back, Mr. Williams sneered.
“You trashed the place,” he said. “I’m keeping the deposit for repairs.”
“Repairs? We left it better than we found it!” Amber protested.
“Not my problem,” he smirked. “What are you going to do? Sue me? Try proving anything.”
We were at our breaking point. I felt anger and helplessness, but mostly, a desire for justice.
Amber looked at me and said, “We’re not letting him get away with this.”
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
She grinned. “We’re going to make him regret ever messing with us.”
We needed something that would hit Mr. Williams where it hurt but couldn’t be traced back to us.
“Alright,” I said, “we need tuna, rotten eggs, milk, and dead mice.”
Amber chuckled. “This is going to be epic.”
We bought the nastiest items we could find and put our plan into action. We hid tuna behind the AC vents, poured rotten eggs into curtain rails, spilled milk on the bathroom mat, and placed dead mice on the ceiling fans.
Finally, we moved into our new house. Two months later, Amber checked in with the rental agent about our old apartment.
“Yeah, it’s been vacant. There’s a terrible smell no one can get rid of.”
Amber and I exchanged a look of triumph. Our plan had worked.
That evening, Mr. Williams called, furious. “The apartment smells like a dumpster. What did you do?”
Amber replied, “What are you going to do? Sue us? Try proving anything.”
“There’s a terrible smell,” he said. “You need to fix this!”
Amber said, “We will, on one condition. Return our full deposit, the extra rent for those two months, and cover any additional costs.”
“That’s blackmail,” he snapped.
“No, that’s justice,” she said. “Take it or leave it.”
Another pause, then a reluctant, “Fine. You win.”
We met Mr. Williams in his office. The look on his face as he handed us the check was priceless.
“Don’t spend it all in one place,” he muttered.
“We won’t,” I said, taking the check.
We cashed it immediately. Returning to the apartment to clean up felt oddly satisfying.
We removed the tuna, cleaned out the rotten eggs, scrubbed the milk stains, and disposed of the dead mice. The smell finally began to dissipate.
“Good riddance,” Amber said. “I hope he learned his lesson.”
And that’s how we turned the tables on our greedy landlord and got the justice we deserved. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, remember: creativity and determination can go a long way!
