A few days ago I received a text from my tenant, informing me that the washing machine was on its last legs. It kept leaking and/or tripping the mains every time it was switched on.
He wanted me to collect the machine and dispose of it, which was fine with me. So we had scheduled a pick up for yesterday evening.
I had already arranged to chill with a friend of mine for that time, but it wasn’t a big deal, because the process of putting the machine into my van shouldn’t take more than 5 minutes. Besides, the extra pair of hands will be useful (even though she’s a girl).
Yeah, so essentially the task was a tad trickier than anticipated, and my tenant didn’t help matters. At all.
So, yesterday evening, around 6’ish, me and my friend popped round my tenant’s house. My tenant greeted us, and then proceeded to lead us through the house, into the back garden, where he had left the piece of junk.
I looked at my tenant and said, “Is this heavy?”, he responded, “Yeah, it’s pretty damn heavy. You may struggle”
I sized up my noticeably shorter tenant, and concluded that his “damn heavy” is probably my piece of cake. Male ego at its best.
Me and my friend both hunched over, leaning towards the appliance, each grabbing one end of the washing machine. As we lifted the appliance, we both instantly looked at one another, with the, “fuck me, this is heavy” expression.
You know when you expect something to be a certain way, only to realise it’s completely different? Like a one-night stand the morning after, without all the slap?
Yeah, well that’s the situation we found ourselves in. Ghastly.
We were able to lift and move the washing machine, but it was an obvious struggle; we were both gritting our teeth and shuffling along extremely slowly. It quickly became apparent we were going to have to carry the machine in stages, with multiple resting points. It wasn’t just the weight which was causing problems, it was the awkwardness of the weight distribution and the lack of gripping points. There wasn’t anything firm to hold onto.
To add insult to injury, the pipes kept dragging along the floor, and leaking fluids (presumably rain water. I hope that’s what it was anyways) onto our clothes, making the process much more unpleasant than it already was.
At this point, I looked over at my tenant, hoping he would jump in now that he had watched us struggle like beetles on their backs for long enough.
For some bizarre reason, he didn’t budge. He just carried on watching us struggle. Like a fucking psycho.
This is genuinely what we looked like…
While most of my senses were quickly deteriorating as I was becoming weaker and weaker, I remember him muttering (in a serious/genuine tone), “I am impressed that you two managed to lift it”
Right, ok. Cock.
Why don’t you just smash me over the head with a baseball bat while I’m trying to carry it?
It eventually took about 15-20 minutes for us to transfer the washing machine from the back of the house to the front and into the van. The entire process was a total struggle. By the end of it, we were both red-faced, sweaty and our clothes were dirt ridden and soaked.
Both me and my friend seriously couldn’t calculate why the fuck my tenant didn’t help us. Surely that would have been the normal thing to do?
We were struggling for 15 minutes trying to carry the darn thing, and my tenant could clearly see that. Yet nothing in my tenant’s head prompted him to provide additional support. Surely he’s a psychopath?
I appreciate it’s not his job or responsibility to help, but come on?
The only semi-feasible conclusion I could think of was that he has it fixated in his head that I’m the landlord and he’s the tenant, and we should stick to those roles. It’s the landlords responsibility/job to dispose of the machine washing, and he didn’t want there to be any confusion over the pecking order. If that is a case, what a weird son-of-a-bitch. If not that, he’s either a soulless drone, or one lazy-ass fucker.
Anyways, this blog post really has nothing to do with anything, and it really wasn’t a big deal. I just thought it was extremely strange behaviour, and left me questioning mankind… yet again.
Disclaimer: I'm just a landlord blogger; I'm 100% not qualified to give legal or financial advice. I'm a doofus. Any information I share is my unqualified opinion, and should never be construed as professional legal or financial advice. You should definitely get advice from a qualified professional for any legal or financial matters. For more information, please read my full disclaimer.
Providing a professional service does not involve turning up poorly manned and ill-equipped then expecting the tenant to muck in to sort out your problem.
By the way, asides from your sexist remarks towards females, the correct english is, 'my friend and I', not "me and my friend."
Lesson over. Grow up.