Further Adventures in Heating

So I found out that my Evil Landlord does not, technically, own my building.

This came as news to me, since we all write our checks to him every month. However, after finally saying that’s it! and passing out flyers asking anyone having similar heating problems to call him so he’d stop fucking around on fixing the heat, I got one interesting response.

When I went by the basement apartment, they told me to talk to the people 2 floors above me, since they basically had to threaten him with the building inspector before he fixed a leak in their roof.

So I went and talked to them, and I found out that their neighbors over in the building next door (which is technically a different building, even though we all have the same basement and the buildings are connected) had found a way to control him.

Of course, this involved getting their parents involved, but here’s what happened:

They moved in and there was some sort of problem with the kitchen floor, and the parents, who were helping the kids move in, called Conrad and screamed bloody murder, and he didn’t seem to care. So they called the people they rented from, who actually own the building.

Now, whenever they have a problem, they tell Conrad to jump, and he asks how high. I think this is partly because the partnership that owns this building put pressure on him because he’s being a dick, but it may have also been beacuse of the parents.

I’ve been extremely reluctant to play the parent card, and that’s partly because I feel like such a spoiled asshole when I pull out the “Well, my daddy is a lawyer and he’ll sue your ass for every penny you’re worth!” argument.

However, after a month of not having heat, fuck that bullshit. I’ll even resurrect my no-nonsense grandpa if I have to, I’m fucking tired of sleeping in a 58 degree apartment under four blankets, unable to sleep through the night because I keep waking up.

So I’m calling the partnership tomorrow, and the Health Department to figure out my options on Monday. Because I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to fucking take it anymore.

It may be a cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason, goddamn it.

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