Lady living in a garden apartment (see 9/20/10 post on euphemisms). Hottest summer on record. Complains that her apartment is so damp that her kitchen cabinet shelves warped. And there’s mold on all her stuff.
“Do you use your air-conditioner?”
“I don’t have one. It stays pretty cool if I keep the windows closed.” (!!!)
I give her an air-conditioner. I pass by her window often, doing yard work. No hum from the unit. Seems she’s saving electricity by turning it on only when she’s home. She also doesn't use the kitchen, dining room, or bathroom fans. Same reason. Saving money.
Few weeks later I get another call: she was gone for a week, came home and is still wiping mold off the kitchen cabinets.
Few weeks later I get another call: she was gone for a week, came home and is still wiping mold off the kitchen cabinets.
“I need a dehumidifier.” I explain an air-conditioner is a dehumidifier, but better, because it doesn't fill up with water, then shut down until you empty it. But if she doesn’t keep the a/c on, it can’t work. And it would be a big help if you moved air around by using the fans in your apartment.
No, she checked with “people” and they all said a dehumidifier works better. How? With pixie dust?
One day in December I get a letter from the building inspector, Mr. Colonoscopy. He's condemning the apartment for mold. She apparently got the bright idea to call the Health Department, which called the building inspector. In a comedy of errors, the Health Dept. guy said he'd notify us of 30 days to remedy, but never did. (Yes, I have his apology in writing.) Since we weren't aware of the wheels turning, 30 days later (to the minute), Mr. Colonoscopy fires off a condemnation letter, and mails it to me at home, at my office, and at the property. Two copies each: certified and regular mail. 6 letter in all. It was like the owl mail delivery in Harry Potter. Those letters were coming in the doors, coming down the chimney...and it was the first inkling we had about the problem.
What the tenant didn't realize was, once that apartment was condemned, she had to move out. Immediately. She cried that she liked the apartment and didn't want to move, but, Oh, Well.
In any case, Mr. Colonoscopy wouldn't extend us more time to remedy, accused us of cleaning up the apartment (no, the tenant just moved all her crap out: the only mold was on the soft goods and her clothes, not on the walls or floors.) and called me a liar when I said we didn't do anything, and to look over the pictures he took to see where the mold actually was. He said he'd only be satisfied if we installed a very expensive air exchanger ( which wouldn't solve anything if the tenant didn't turn it on, just like the air-conditioner and fans). We were so frustrated at his idiocy that we just left the apartment vacant. For years. Until he retired. I would've been in jail if I had to keep dealing with him.
In the end, we cut holes in the walls, pulled out all the kitchen and bath cabinets, removed the carpeting and replaced it with vinyl flooring, all in search of the elusive mold. Four years later, still no mold. But lots of lost rent.
So, Mr. Colonoscopy, if you're still alive and reading this, you should be happy. You got your revenge.
One day in December I get a letter from the building inspector, Mr. Colonoscopy. He's condemning the apartment for mold. She apparently got the bright idea to call the Health Department, which called the building inspector. In a comedy of errors, the Health Dept. guy said he'd notify us of 30 days to remedy, but never did. (Yes, I have his apology in writing.) Since we weren't aware of the wheels turning, 30 days later (to the minute), Mr. Colonoscopy fires off a condemnation letter, and mails it to me at home, at my office, and at the property. Two copies each: certified and regular mail. 6 letter in all. It was like the owl mail delivery in Harry Potter. Those letters were coming in the doors, coming down the chimney...and it was the first inkling we had about the problem.
What the tenant didn't realize was, once that apartment was condemned, she had to move out. Immediately. She cried that she liked the apartment and didn't want to move, but, Oh, Well.
In any case, Mr. Colonoscopy wouldn't extend us more time to remedy, accused us of cleaning up the apartment (no, the tenant just moved all her crap out: the only mold was on the soft goods and her clothes, not on the walls or floors.) and called me a liar when I said we didn't do anything, and to look over the pictures he took to see where the mold actually was. He said he'd only be satisfied if we installed a very expensive air exchanger ( which wouldn't solve anything if the tenant didn't turn it on, just like the air-conditioner and fans). We were so frustrated at his idiocy that we just left the apartment vacant. For years. Until he retired. I would've been in jail if I had to keep dealing with him.
In the end, we cut holes in the walls, pulled out all the kitchen and bath cabinets, removed the carpeting and replaced it with vinyl flooring, all in search of the elusive mold. Four years later, still no mold. But lots of lost rent.
So, Mr. Colonoscopy, if you're still alive and reading this, you should be happy. You got your revenge.
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