Here’s The Beef

The people who own my apartment building absolutely hate me. It’s fine, though, because I’m about to make their lives a living hell.

I’ve been withholding large chunks of rent since early this summer in an effort to have the very basic things (like safe light fixtures and working plumbing) that are expected to be in working order in an apartment. I did all of my research, contacted other landlords and property owners, several attorneys and the Chicago Tenants Union. These idiots aren’t going to win.

Once they realized my intentions, and that I wasn’t a moron, repairs started happening, but very slowly. The faulty light fixture in the bathroom was fixed and the sink was snaked. The leaky toilet and shower are still, well, leaky.

A few weeks ago, I received a notice that the building was being remodeled and an intercom system was going to be put in. Awesome, a real apartment building. They’ve been working for about a week and a half, and I still don’t have keys to my new front door. There is also a hole in my wall where my intercom will go. Since I wasn’t home to let them in, they punched a hole from the outside. A big, uneven, dust-filled hole.

I know what you’re all thinking.

‘Why in the hell did you lease that apartment?!’

Listen. We all make hasty decisions. Also, when I moved in, I made them agree, in writing, to all of the repairs. I’m lazy, not stupid. I like where I live. I love my neighborhood. I don’t want to move. I want them to do the right thing.

I could move out. Legally, I could break my lease, but that doesn’t make any logical sense. I’m broke and I refuse to leave Logan Square, so I would just end up in another broken apartment, probably with less space and higher rent. And I’m stubborn. I like this apartment. If I’m essentially stuck here, I’m gonna do this.

Why not just give up? Why not move out and give them a horrible review on yelp? Because that won’t actually do anytihng. Because we are living in a shitty, broken time, in a broken society, under a broken government. We’re still dealing with civil rights and equality in 2011. Education isn’t a priority. I don’t have health insurance for no other reason than not being able to afford it. It’s like living in the Twilight Zone, and I’m angry and frustrated. Since I can’t afford to move, I’m just going to use all of that frustration to do the one thing I can do: send daily, angry, fact-filled emails to my property manager until everyone in the building has working plumbing and feels safe. I’m going to use all of my frustrated energy to make their lives hell until they fix this apartment and it is the beautiful wonderland that I want and deserve. I’m not trying to be a martyr here, I’m just mad enough and bratty enough to fight with them, because I know I’m right.

The potential for their hatred of me is boundless, and I don’t care. I’m sick of slumlords winning, and I am just loud enough and stubborn enough to force them to change. I’ve already decided that I’m winning this fight, and I’ll do this until I die. I’ll make it a sport. A really, really fun sport that I will always win.  The people in this building, myself included, deserve to live in a nice, safe building, just like the people in the newly renovated condos next door.

Game on, assholes.