I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I have been dealing with a deadbeat former roommate situation. He bailed on the lease owing about 4 months rent and basically disappeared. While he was here and continuing to skip payments, he agreed to a payment plan we had negotiated. He agreed he could pay and would work overtime to make sure he could pay, complete with apologies and explanations (read: sob stories). Then he bailed. No communication, no attempt to make amends and pay outstanding balance, nothing. Oh, that’s not true - he did show up on the last day of the lease to move out his stuff. In violation of the Condo Board rules. While I was at work. Never heard a word after that. Several thousand dollars out of my pocket. Grrrrr. Some have likened this situation to the Baltimore Colts moving to Cleveland in the dark of night like a snake in the grass. But I digress.
Many had given advice and ideas: change the locks, sell his stuff, throw it away, donate all his junk to Goodwill and what not. Luckily, I decided to check with the county before I did anything. They gave me a **THICK **book on county laws re: the eviction process. Turns out that the laws are VERY heavily on the side of the tenant (him) to protect his rights and the horrible evil money-grubbing landlord (me) must jump through many hoops to prove non-payment and what not. The slightest infraction on my part would result in *him *being able to sue me. I can’t just kick him out. So I read the book. Then I started the paperwork process…mucho paperwork - Notice to appear in court, notice to evict, notice to pay back rent, blah blah blah.
Back in December, I had to go back to court for the THIRD time to state my case. Roomie didn’t show. The judge automatically awarded in favor of me (yay :)!) and granted me the right to take him to small claims court. That is, if the Sheriff could find him to serve him the court documents.
In January, I got the letter that they had indeed found him and served him notice. The court date had been set for 4/8/2009 (today). I would like to imagine a high-speed chase involving 2 cops on 10-speed bikes and him in one of those Post Office mini-jeeps careening around the neighborhood, with random pieces of mail flying out of the jeep whilst he pitches parcels at them to avoid capture.
Along with all the other documentation and mind-numbing junk that I have to deal with in my life, last night I managed to dig out all the paperwork that I had been collecting along the way and planned to review the history and do some ‘dry-run’ rehearsals with myself to prepare for the court appearance. I’ve done enough presentations, staff meetings and what-not to know that I need to have a script rehearsed and be prepared to answer unexpected questions.
So, folders in hand, entire paper trail intact and dinner under my belt, I was all ready to sit down and hit this like one of Bing Crosby’s kids.
7:00 PM. The hockey game comes on. CAPS! Tuesday night is hockey night.
…Not just one game, but a double header.
…And the new season of Rescue Me! started last night. Gotta Love Dr. Denis Leary.
After several hours of sucking on the glass boob, and a cupla two-three frosty adult beverages (ahem), I’m beat and sleepy. Barely managed to remember to set my alarm clock. (I haven’t set my alarm clock since the Super Bowl; Most of y’all know why.)
No practice. No rehearsals. Dammit. Gotta do this cold.
This morning was tough. Up before the sun. Gotta get to court. First time in 2 months I’ve had to wear a tie. Socks were *not *optional today. Got to court on time, and dude is there this time. Granted, it was a bit chilly this morning, so I brought a jacket. Roomie Dude showed up in a warm and fuzzy sweatsuit (SWEATS?!?! to COURT?!?!?).
First step: Judge orders us to Mediation. Spent 2 hours describing his inability to pay despite using the plan the Mediator presented. Dude kept trying to blame his situation on a brief hospital visit incurred in August. Rent has been due since February. Nice try, but about six months too late. Mediator presents two other options. I show documentation (signed by Roomie Dude) where I have tried both of these plans to no avail. Roomie continues to sing “I ain’t got the money” blues until the cows come home.
Cows come home. I request to go back before the judge.
Back to court. Here come da Judge. He gave me 5 minutes to present my case. I took 10, and even managed to come up with several incidents which I had previously forgotten on the fly (Thanks, Cerebrum!) and described these to da Judge, complete with the ‘yes, Your Honor’s’ and my own civilian lawyer-ese. (And I don’t even watch Law and Order or anything!)
Judge listens and reads documentation as I present my case. He barely looks at either of us while I speak. When I am done, he looks at me and asks if there is anything I need to add. I say no. (I mean, “No, Your Honor.”)
He starts to say something to roomie dude and gets his first real good look at him. He stops mid-sentence and asks roomie dude if he is currently employed. Roomie dude says “Yeah”. Da judge then asks, “Do you think your wardrobe is **appropriate **for appearing in my court?” :eek:
…I really don’t think it helped Roomie Dude’s case that, at this point, he ‘cut the cheeze’ at that point. And LOUDLY.
Roomie dude is taken back a bit. He starts in his ebonic style “Well, now, ya see, here’s what’s happening right now…” Da judge cuts him off and begins to ask questions. Roomie dude starts singing those songs again - “I was in the hospital” heartache followed by the encore of “I ain’t got the money” blues. He begins to tell his horrible tale of how he acquired an infection leading to 6 weeks of inability to work while at death’s door, which will lead him to a big payoff when he sues the hospital. He has no proof of hospitalization. He admits to being paid a salary while “healing”. He admits his non-payment of rent. He confirms everything I have said. Da Judge asks re: my documentation of payment plans and compromises signed by roomie dude and asks if this is legit. He says yes. After about 2 minutes of hemming and hawwing from Roomie dude, Da Judge cuts him off. He says "Mr. Roomie Dude, here’s your bottom line. You entered into a contract agreement. You **failed **to comply. You agreeded to a payment plan. You **failed **to comply. I find for the plaintiff (me) in the amount of **** and ** cents. You will receive notice of this decision in the mail. Case dismissed. gavel bang. 
Roomie dude is blown away. He says, “Your Honor…”. Da Judge cuts him off. “I said DISMISSED” LOUDER gavel bang Bailiff says “all rise” and Da Judge leaves the room. I try to find evidence of Borg implants on Da Judge. No proof.
YAY!!! 
Roomie Dude leaves the courtroom. I gather my jacket and stuff and delay a bit, just in case. I give him time to clear out. I exit, go to the bathroom, and just by coincidence, see somebody I know. While I’m talking to this somebody, Roomie Dude is loitering in the hallway. He now wants to talk and work out some kind of deal that won’t affect his credit rating. Finally he realizes this is serious. I suggest he find a lawyer and he starts up again. I just walk away.
So what do I win? Yet another, possibly two court appearances. To actually get him to pay the money. Sheesh. This is going to take another 6 months at the least. Now I have to wait for the paperwork to come in the mail and then can re-file to gain payment.
Lessons learned:
1/ Get **EVERYTHING **in writing. Learned this several times in different places, but seems like the latest place was that real estate class I took. One thing Teacher harped on was, “If it ain’t in writing, it ain’t true.”
2/ Appearance: If you’re going to collect money, dress up. If you owe money, dress down. (Though it didn’t seem to help roomie dude.)
3/ Practice Practice PRACTICE. Okay, so I messed up on this one, but I have been working on this plan for over six months now, so I’ve had plenty of time to let this one simmer on the back burner. The wheels never stop turning, eh? Besides, I’ve been to court so many times I guess I picked up on some mad lawyering skillz. 
…stay tuned…This adventure isn’t over until I gets dinero in my Dockers.
Before anybody starts calling me a slumlord moneywhore, I honestly did try to give this guy every chance. When we initially met, he told me he was a Marine veteran who was beginning a trial separation with his wife so they could work out their issues and he was down on his luck very near to Christmastime. I had been interviewing people for the roommate position for a while, and although I met some total head cases, he seemed like he could use a break. And he was a vet. So I gave him a break and let him move in.
Early on, the stories started. He had to spend $$$ for the kids at Xmas, Grandmama had doctor bills, the tags were due on his Escalade, he needed to spend $$$ for repairs on said Escalade, blah blah blah. Many “sincere” apologies and blowing of smoke up my butt to describe his plans to catch up on his payments.
I only really yelled at him one time. My sister was planning to fly up here to visit last summer and I was going to pay for everything, as she is unemployed. We haven’t seen each other for over 10 years. I had plans. I even reached out to Dopers for cool stuff to do in DC that I didn’t know about. (Thanks, guys!) The rest of the times I was trying to be sympathetic and believed his line of crap. And as it turns out (after speaking with his wife), he’s not even a vet! Never been in the service!!! LIAR!:mad:
Because I had to cover his expenses, I had to cancel my sister’s trip. At the end, I had exhausted about 90% of my savings. Upon his departure, I learned from the lady at the front desk of our building that she had also personally loaned him over $800 because she bought his sob stories as well. She later disclosed that he was banned from the neighborhood beer store for trying to scam the guys out of Keno tickets (Keno is big in Maryland; it’s legal gambling). She is of the opinion that he spends a **lot **of money on Keno.
So, thanks for listening. I hope I don’t appear too overbearing, but dammit! it’s my money! I used to vent to co-workers about this situation, and almost everybody I spoke to basically said, “who doesn’t pay their rent???”
PS: Okay, I don’t wear Dockers. I just didn’t think it would sound as cool if I said “Dungarees”.