The Ryndex

Friday night, I had an unpleasant surprise. I got home to meet with the landlord of my apartment. It was supposed to be a simple exchange of envelopes and mail.

I wasn’t happy about the eviction, of course. I’ve probably already mentioned it, but when I was negotiating my work contract this summer, I confirmed (verbally) with them that there wasn’t any problem staying past November. I understand that their situation has changed.

There were plenty of good feelings when I took the apartment. They bought extra towels to leave with me until my stuff arrived from Canada. I went to their apartment to deliver their mail and pay the rent, and they had me for breakfast (with pastries).

So, I gave them the benefit of the doubt. There was a family crisis, and they needed the apartment back. They were initially quite brusque, but I could chalk that up to their own pressure. They had originally asked me to vacate by mid-December, but changed their mind to the end of January — for the benefit of everyone, of course. I could cope, because I am super.

On Friday, at the appointed hour, however, the son-in-law knocks at my door, and wonders if the others have arrived yet. This was my first indication that they had planned a surprise apartment inspection. I told the son-in-law that I wasn’t very pleased about that, and he assured me that it wasn’t an “inspection”, they just wanted to take a good look at the apartment, measure the walls, see if there was any damage to be repaired and confirm which furniture was staying and going.

He ended up waiting downstairs for the others to arrive. I should have simply refused to let them enter, and asked for another meeting. Instead, when the gang had assembled (the son-in-law, the daughter and the landlord), I let them in to poke around my apartment.

M. Leduc asked me to pay this year’s television tax with next month’s rent (about 120€ annually). The first year, I had paid the tax because I didn’t quite understand how it worked. The next year, I said that they needed to have it cancelled with the authorities because I don’t have a television, but I paid it because it was too late for that year. This year, I have a television (I’m storing it for a friend who will be taking it home after Christmas).

In front of my television, I told M. Leduc that I didn’t have any intention of paying it this year, because I don’t really have a television.

I also said that I wasn’t very happy with how things were going. He started telling me the story about how his daughter and son-in-law just couldn’t afford their current apartment at 2800€ a month, because of all the financial and personal problems they were having. I was embarrassed; they were standing right there while this old man was explaining how they couldn’t afford to maintain their lifestyle and therefore needed to move into his apartment.

I was noncommittal about leaving at the end of January. I never actually agreed to it until the last minute. Under the pressure of a direct question and three pairs of eyes (who agreed that it would be very convenient for me to leave), I said “oui”.

I am an easily manipulated puppet. Normally, I effectively avoid conflict in good ways — diplomatic, reasonable and polite. When that fails, I avoid conflict by not standing up for myself, which makes me feel terrible. This sucks.