Red tape: Red anger

Exactly a year ago last month, I moved into my flat in a new building in Ajman. The building itself is owned by a prick (I would soon learn) and managed by a bunch of monkeys (I should have known). But at that time I was too distraught to care about the details, and needed a home.

It wasn’t long after I moved in that light bulbs started exploding on a weekly basis, or pipes would burst almost as frequently. There wasn’t a day that my kitchen floor wasn’t covered in water, because the pipes were leaking somewhere in the wall and I couldn’t find the source of the problem. And all of this was on top of Ajman’s electricity & sewage problems, that meant at times I’d be stuck in the middle of the day on the sixth floor of the building, sweltering in the heat of my house, knowing the only way out was to walk down six flights of stairs that also stored big buckets for the tenants trash. At other times, I’d come home after they drained the sewage and my house would smell much like a public bathroom that hasn’t been washed down or had a toilet flushed in any less than a year.

Being in the building was a nightmare. Dealing with the pricks on the other end was something on top of a nightmare. Sometime during the first two months, my toilet overflowed. No, overflowed is an understatement; it started spitting up waste that I’m sure come from other apartments as well as my own. At the time, I had my three-year-old son and my housemaid with me. There was only one bathroom. I was working in Dubai, but traffic meant I had to leave my house at or before 6am and I wouldn’t reach home before 7pm.

I called the building management about the problem, since I’d paid them a fee for maintenance, and they informed me that they could only send someone to my house between 7am and 5 or 6 (I can’t remember) pm. This didn’t work for me. There is no way I was going to let some sexually deprived man into my apartment, while my housemaid was virtually there alone. And missing a day of work would mean a day I didn’t get paid, thus meaning I’d end up paying the same maintenance fee twice. I argued with the real-estate company for a full day explaining, insisting that they either send someone to my house at 7.30 in the evening or allow me to hire someone from outside and have them pay the bill.

They refused. On the second day, I asked them to give me the owner’s phone number. They refused.

The sales man for the apartment had liked me from the start. I called him up and asked. He gave me the mobile number, under the promise that I would not tell a soul where I got it from.

I called the guy, Mohammed something… He didn’t answer immediately, but called me back an hour or so later. I introduced myself and before I could say anything he responded with, “I know who you are and I know your problem.” He continued with, “I will not help you unless you tell me where you got my phone number from.”

“I don’t see how this is relevant.” I responded, “You are the owner of this building. I have rented a service from you. It’s now been two days that I don’t have working toilet.”

He continued pressing about where I got his number, as if he were a Shiekh and I had somehow invaded his private circle, and I continued refusing to explain based not only on my promise to the sales guy but also the sheer conceit in this man’s tone. Soon, he simply hung up on my face.

I was pissed right off. I have never met a person so arrogant, so incredibly rude, and so condescending in my entire life. But I’ll be fucked if I’m going to let some prick get the best of me; especially if I’m putting money into this mans bank account. I left my office and headed to my lawyers. I had them call him. You can bet your ass he arranged for a plumber to be at my house that evening at 7.30pm.

Since, I’d dealt with all plumbing or electrical problems on my own. I can’t be bothered with the stress dealing with these people causes.

Three months before my contract expired, the building management sent me a note asking me to sign whether or not I’d be staying and informing me of a rent increase if I did stay. Three months before I left, I had no idea what I’d be doing. In fact, I knew nothing up until the last couple of days I was in that house. I’m sure many of you read it in this blog. None-the-less, they kept harassing me almost daily. I refused to sign, they refused to leave the letter with me, only to return the next day or week and ask the same thing over again. They called me every-single-day, five or six times until I answered and each time, I still told them I didn’t know and thus couldn’t answer them. They insisted on trying back, even though I told them I would inform them when I knew what I was doing.

Finally, I flipped at the calls and told them to stop harassing me. I told them it didn’t matter how many times they called, I won’t know till I bloody well know. So they needn’t waste their time or increase their damn phone bills with these pointless, harassing calls.

They then left me alone. And when I knew for certain that I was leaving, I informed them. It’s funny because it seemed like the whole building was moving out in that same week. I remember one guy telling me in the elevator that he also wanted to go, but stupidly paid for two years in advance. He told me the owner of the building was a prick; which meant to me that it wasn’t just my experience with him, the guy is a prick through and through.

When leaving I inquired about the 1500dhs security deposit I’d given them. I was told it’d take a week to process and informed I needed the receipts. It’s a good thing I kept them, but when I looked at them last week I realized a few things. For starters they were printed on two different companies’ letterheads. I remembered the day I first looked at the apartment and how they told me that if I wanted them to hold it over the weekend (until I could arrange the cheques), I needed to give the majority of the deposit to the salesman at the building because the office was already closing for the day. I refused without a receipt, so they had us drive the sales man to some other office where he issued one.

That done, I thought all was well. I went and finalized everything after the weekend and got a second receipt for the remaining of the deposit.

The second thing I noticed about the receipts was that on one of the deposit ones, the larger one, the man had written, “This amount is non-refundable,” in Arabic. On inquiring, I was told I wouldn’t get that money back. I called the real-estate two days ago, and swore up and down that if they didn’t refund me my full amount I would take them to court over it. I’m sick and tired of people taking advantage of others, in such ways in this country. I’m fed up of people literally stealing money from me without an ounce of shame.

The guy promised me I’d get it all, before I closed the phone.

Today, T went to pick it up. While at the office, he called me and put the very same manager I had talked to two days ago on the phone. The guy told me that I was only getting 1300Dhs, as they’d deducted 200Dhs for maintenance. I flipped. I don’t give a shit if it is just 200Dhs. I don’t care what excuses they have. I refuse his ‘offer’ and told him that one way or another, the company would pay for it. He can take it out of his own fucking pocket, seeing how he’s the one who promised it to me just two days ago, and take it from the owner whenever the guy shows up.

I asked T not to leave with the cheque until it was made out in the full amount. I simply refuse to pay this fee. The guy argued that the owner will only be there at 1pm, so we needed to wait. I argued that I’m tired of waiting and I will take these fuckers to court. I will pay more for lawyers and I will endure a messy legal battle for a measly 200Dhs.

When companies are already getting away with daylight robbery through rent increases, maintenance fees that are literally useless and your average person, like me, is starting to feel the real consequences of the rising expenses in the UAE, enough is enough of this shit.

I’m thinking it’s a good fucking thing I’m not working or expected to be a professional under any circumstances these days. When someone is seriously willing to go to the fucking courts in this place for 200Dhs, I’d say they’ve about reached their capacity for stress-induced frustration.

**By the way, 200Dhs works out to about $54 USD.