Renter: Our landlord is a fucking control freak. He has a list of all these rules, and some of them are downright bizarre. Seriously, “antique white”? Why can’t I just paint my room whatever color I want, as long as paint over it later?
Landlord: Our tenants are garbage. They have seriously devalued our house with all the shit they leave outside, and bags full of spent kitty litter all over the porch. We bought this place so we might finally have something that earns income, but we’ve lost thousands on it every year.
Renter: We have a list of things to be fixed, but he never fixes them, and when he does, he does it half-heartedly. The washing machine is from the late 1960s, and when it spins, our bed vibrates. Only 4 of the 6 burners on the stove work, and none of the doors close without a dead-blow hammer.
Landlord: They’re late with the rent check EVERY SINGLE MONTH. They burn some kind of incense that will seep into the walls. And their cat actually attacks the mailman. I don’t get it. Their references were solid. They seemed so nice when they moved in, and then morphed into these feral creatures.
Renter: When we moved in, he was all like, “it’s a totally relaxed atmosphere, we like having a creative atmosphere”, but what he really meant was “do whatever you want as long as it’s what I want you to do.” If his vintage movie posters are so precious, why does he leave them hanging in the living room, rent out the place, and then forbid you to move them?
Landlord: It’s like they turn into infants the second they assume the role of “tenant”. All of a sudden, I’m the fucking bad guy all the time. They’re like turtles on their backs, their legs flailing. They can’t change a light bulb, they’ve never used an extension cord, and they find a plugged toilet utterly mystifying. What the fuck? Grow some skin, people! Don’t be so goddamn helpless!
Renter: It’s like he thinks we’re a different class of people, but the truth is, he’s just lucky. He had some cash from somewhere and bought the place when you didn’t need to be a fucking billionaire to buy a house. We’re no different, just a few years behind him, so we’re stuck renting for the next fucking decade. Which makes us hippies.
Landlord: If something isn’t yours, you treat it like shit. What happens when you scrape a rental car against a parking meter? You say “Fuck it! It’s a rental!” I swear to god, I bet right now they’re in our house, taking giant shits on the living room floor, setting fire to their farts. Goddamn flaky nickel-and-dime morons with their moron friends, wiping their noses on the drapes. Fuck them.
Renter: He’s such a prissy, needle-nosed dick, so short-sighted he can’t see past his own entitled circumstances. And the holier-than-thou smugness, I swear – you put people in charge of something, and it’s like they suddenly fancy themselves in a higher caste. I’ve had it with the arcane rules, the constant feeling of being in trouble every day. Fuck him.