Trauma and Drama on the Home Front: Part 2

Anybody wondering if our situation with the two upstairs tenants, Guildenstern and Rosencranz, has cleared up, allow me to quickly disabuse you of that too sanguine notion: it’s gotten worse. Guildenstern the Bad is still not paying his half of the rent and has not written and signed a letter I requested of him stating his intention to leave the apartment on January 31. Rosencranz the Good did pay his share of the January rent and wrote his letter, but, unfortunately for him, his fortunes are tied with Guildenstern’s, as both their names appear on the same lease. So this is what we had to do:

This morning (Saturday), we had a constable come to our house. My wife, who works in the court system, had gotten his name from a friend. His name was Pat and he stood at least six feet tall and was fat in a stocky and powerful way; in other words, he really filled a doorway. He strode up to our front door wearing a tapered cap and athletic training suit. His manner was hearty and bluff and he had a face that was ruddy and still youthful; he couldn’t have been more than 30. It was the sort of face that could show cheerful friendliness or cold hard-heartedness with the same ease. When I shook his hand, it felt like grasping a small ham. He accepted my check for $60 and then I handed over to him two 14-day notices to quit for failure to pay rent. In exchange, he gave me a succinct letter detailing the service he was about to render.

I directed him to the rear of the house, where he rang the buzzer for the upstairs apartment. When Guildenstern and Rosencranz didn’t respond, I let him in the back entrance where he proceeded up the private stairway to the landing where the apartment door was. From downstairs I heard him rap on the door very loudly while calling out in a booming voice, “Hello! Hello! This is the constable!” We found out afterward that it was Rosencranz who was first roused and answered the door. Pat told him to go wake his friend, as this was an important matter he shouldn’t miss. Rosencranz presently brought Guildenstern back with him and the constable gave them each their notice to quit. When he asked if his visit came as a surprise to them, Guildenstern replied, no. And that was that.

This little incident capped a busy week for me. Besides returning to work, I’ve been showing the apartment (with Guildenstern’s and Rosencranz’s cooperation) nearly every night. I advertised it over the Internet and the apartment drew a good response. I think if you’re the type who likes to meet people, a career in real estate might satisfy that desire. While I’m no misanthrope, I can’t claim to be a meet-and-greet kind of guy. I have a tendency toward shyness, owing perhaps to a slight stammer, so doing this sort of thing, meeting strangers and trying to sell them something, requires a certain exertion of will. But in spite of this, I think I carried things off remarkably well. The apartment, of course, is perfect. It really is. It’s only been lived in for a year and everything in it is completely modern. It has an unusually large, marble-floored bathroom that features a huge, claw-footed tub. Both bedrooms are way over the average size, the ceilings are rather high, each room has its own ceiling fan, and there are hardwood floors throughout. It even has central air conditioning! Who wouldn’t want to live there?

The missus and I have settled on a young couple with a five-month-old child. They are moving from San Francisco. The husband is a microbiologist by training who works as a field engineer in robotics. He tried to explain to me what he did in some depth, sometimes remarking, “Well, you must have heard of this,” or, “Certainly you’re familiar with that term,” but nearly everything he said of a technical nature bounced directly off my skull. He was very friendly and could speak Spanish, which certainly helped ingratiate himself with my wife. His wife, by the way, is Japanese, and she also has some lofty scholarly attainments to her own credit, only I can’t remember them now. Both the missus and I have a very good feeling about them.

What made this morning’s incident painful to me was involving poor Rosencranz, who has been a model tenant. He and Guildenstern are truly a study in opposites. While Guildenstern has the unctuousness and glib tongue of a snake oil salesman, Rosencranz is simple, friendly and open. He appreciates an interest in taken in him and gives honest and thorough answers to anything asked. Quite frankly, he’s my kind of guy. It really caused me some distress to serve him a notice to quit along with his deceptive friend, and, after an hour or so, I called Rosencranz on his cell phone to apologize for his being dragged into this mess. We had no other choice; Guildenstern forced our hand. Both tenants had to be served. I promised him I would try everything possible to keep him out of it, and this Thursday, during an appointment I have scheduled with an attorney, I will explore what can be done. Rosencranz is very concerned about his name going on record in a negative way (as he’s done nothing wrong) and I don’t blame him. I suggested he speak to his friend about it.

This story isn’t over over, of course. Certainly there will be more to come.