2006-05-13 - 8:56 p.m.
(continued from here�)
Eventually, I pieced together why filthy rich Antonios was dealing pot out of his apartment. Although the scions of wealthy families usually have all money in a way, in another sense they have nothing at all. They have no independent assets of their own, but are entirely beholden to their parents for their funds. And without regular infusions of capital from the folks, these kids have no idea how to live.
Trim the budget and live lean? What budget?!? These kids could blow through $10,000 like it was nothing. Without their huge monthly allowances, they were completely at sea. Antonios had managed to piss off his dad sufficiently to get cut off financially. Now he was trying to continue supporting his $10K/month lifestyle on his own. Having no marketable skills to parlay, he was dabbling in the only drug-dealing he could handle: selling pot.
He used to attend a college in an inner-ring suburb on the other side of Boston. Presumably finding it a chore to park his own car there, the front desk told me he took a taxi there every morning (a good 12 miles or about $50 each way). Recently however, he�d stopped getting this ride because he�d apparently simply stopped attending school. I can only speculate about the reasons for this; perhaps his recreational pot use had increased to the point where he found it too difficult to get up for class.
Perhaps it was his no longer attending college, the one thing his parents had sent him to America to do, or perhaps tensions with his father had been building for longer. But when I looked over our bank records and asked the valet to check the history of payments for his parking spot, payments had been coming from an account in the name of his father�s company until a few months ago. Then they just stopped.
I say that he pissed off his father in particular. During the course of my investigating all this, the front desk (who I�d asked to keep me informed of any goings on with Antonios) told me he�d gotten a package from his mom. It apparently had a check or something in it because, a few days later, a new (used) car was being parked illegally on some public land across from the building. Security people said it seemed to be Antonios�, although I unfortunately never saw him with it.
This was friggin� ridiculous. He�d used some cash he�d gotten to buy a car rather than pay the debts he owed (to us and also to God-knows-who else, now that I thought of it). My boss was livid at this point and saying she would crucify him. I wrote him a letter (having the concierge slip notes under his apartment door was apparently the only way to reach him) explaining that we were going to begin eviction proceedings.
Soon after, a leasing agent at the office said I had a phone call on hold. She smirked that it was Antonios; apparently everyone now knew him as my personal project. She amusedly watched to see how I�d deal with it. I wondered this too as I picked up the phone. Stay calm at first, I told myself. Don�t explode, at least not immediately. Remember that he�s going through a difficult situation himself. Maybe he didn�t mean to cheat you, he just didn�t know how to handle things.
�Antonios. I�m so glad you called. There�s so much to discuss and you�re a hard man to reach.� I�m staying calm.
�Why have you sent me this terrible letter? It says you will evict me!� A bit more foreign-sounding than I expected and a bit angrier too.
�Well honestly, I really don�t want to do that. But I�m glad we got your attention. Why don�t you come down to the management office to talk things through? I�m sure we can work out a plan.�
�No, I cannot do this. I am not in the building now. I only find out about this letter because my friend who is staying in my apartment tell me.�
�Well, perhaps we can set up a meeting at a time that works for you. When will you be here? Where are you now?�
�I am in Aspen for two more weeks! I was enjoying the skiing and then I hear about this letter and now you have ruined my vacation!�
���
Aspen. Vacation. From what? I had been trying to stay calm. But maybe there was no real reason to get upset. This kid wasn�t doing anything more than you�d expect and wasn�t going to change his behavior on your account. He was simply being spoiled rotten, irresponsible, and useless. I sighed.
�I�m sorry we can�t work things out, Antonios. The eviction process should take a while. You�ll probably have until the end of next month to leave. Have fun in Aspen. Goodbye.�
I told my boss what was up. She said we�d probably need a lawyer for the eviction, but she didn�t want to use the firm we had on retainer. They were one of Boston�s priciest white-shoe firms and charged a bunch if you so much as looked at them. I was a smart guy; couldn�t I just research how to do it and hire some cheapo lawyer at the end when we had to actually go to court?
Aw, man. I didn�t think I got paid enough for this. I wasn�t sure that learning the specific procedure by which one goes about evicting someone was what I wanted to fill my head with. At least I wasn�t evicting a low-income tenant (we had a few quasi-rent-controlled units mixed into the building). I don�t think I�d have been able to do that. In this case, I was kicking out a spoiled brat who richly deserved it.
Eviction in Massachusetts is a much friendlier process to the evictee than in some states. In Texas, I�m told they remove your door from its hinges (it�s apparently considered the common property of the landlord) and just toss all your belongings out on the curb. In some places, a sheriff can come and physically throw you out. In our state, there was no physicality involved.
Plus, it�s a pretty renter-friendly jurisdiction. Theoretically, a non-paying tenant can drag things out and stay put for quite a while. The landlord didn�t fix my leaky faucet, therefore I can stay here rent-free! Then there�s some court-ordered investigation into the alleged problem and things drag on for more months. Fortunately, Antonios didn�t have nearly the practical brainpower to pull this off and the eviction proceeded ahead.
At a bureaucratically glacial pace of course. I seem to recall filling out and filing an awful lot of paperwork. When we finally got a court date, we had to get an actual lawyer. I�d imagine my boss hired whatever firm from the phone book quoted her the lowest price. I spoke to the associate assigned to us on the phone exactly once and only met him in person at the actual courthouse when we went in for the eviction hearing.
First seeing him, a chubby redhead younger than me with his shirttail hanging out of his pants and his tie crooked, did not inspire a lot of confidence. I�d briefly looked up his bio online; he�d gone to the same bottom-tier law school as my friend�s old girlfriend. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He reassuringly told me that this was the first eviction case he�d handled, but he�d read up and was thoroughly familiar with the situation.
Besides, these things were usually straightforward and the magistrate had read all the facts already. We just had to be here to receive the decision. We sat in the housing courtroom for some time while legal mumbo-jumbo went on about depressing minor landlord-tenant disputes from Revere and Randolph and other third-rate inner-ring suburbs. Finally, our case was called.
The redheaded lawyer jumped up. �I�d like to introduce this tenant�s lease!�
�Uhm. I�ve already seen that,� said the magistrate. �But you can �move� it be done again.�
�Uh. Yes!�
��Yes� what?�
�Yes, I move that the lease be introduced again!�
The magistrate sighed. ��Yes, I move that the lease be introduced� what?�
�Uh. Oh! Yes, I move that the lease be introduced again, your Honor?�
�Exactly. Good.�
Oh man. This was how it was going to go. At least he assured me these things were usually straightforward.
It was pretty excruciating listening to the half-assed lawyer fumble through things. As I recall, he did have the good sense to not even send us a bill for his �services� afterwards. But finally it was all over and the court determined an eviction date for Antonios (who never bothered to even show up). As expected, it was the end of next month. He�d be into us for a total of four months rent. Ah well. At least he�d be gone.
Antonios called a mover to come on his last day for his stuff. In retrospect, seeing as he was going back to Greece, I can�t imagine where they trucked his things. Although I seem to recall them being an international shipper, so maybe they sent everything back there. I asked them if they had some sort of forwarding address. Again, not that we had any hope of pursuing legal recovery. But just so we had someplace to amuse ourselves by sending �OVERDUE� notices to be thrown out.
The movers said they were wary of violating confidentiality. But maybe they could disclose the new address if I let them put advertisements for their service in our buildings� Oh fine. Bribery works for me and what do I care anyway. They gave me the address and set up fliers in our mailrooms. Maybe they got a few calls from the displays. I looked the town in the address up online.
�Avgalemino (or whatever it was) is well known for its fine white-sand beaches and beautiful views of the Mediterranean!� Great. After ripping us off for four months rent, he was retreating to lick his wounds at a Mediterranean beach resort. Well. I thought I had a day off coming. Maybe I�d go to Walden Pond or something. Or I heard Saugus is beautiful this time of year.
When I actually caught sight of Antonios out front getting in a car (presumably getting a ride to the airport to get on the Concorde), we locked eyes and nodded slowly at each other. There wasn�t much to say. He�d done what he�d done and I�d done what I had to do. My life really wasn�t any worse for our interaction. I�d just felt the full impact of the rich and spoiled being rich and spoiled.
I doubted it made much sense to him. It was just these little people buzzing around about money or some tiresome thing. His Boston journey had washed out. Ah well, he�d have to try again in Europe. Why did he even have to bother with this college? That was for other people. He would get back in daddy�s good graces in no time and the money would start rolling in again. Meanwhile, perhaps he should call Paolo in Ibiza�
Damn brat, I thought. At least he got what he deserved. Come to think of it, I kind of enjoyed evicting him. It�s too bad I wasn�t doing it in the holiday season to make it extra-special. Hey, cool! I had just brought comeuppance to the high and mighty. I had just stuck it to the Man! But then I thought about it. I was a landlord evicting someone. In another way, I was the Man.
Someone later suggested that meant this whole affair was masturbatory, but I think rather it presented a delicious tension.
� 2006 Geoff Gladstone
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