SHE CALLED THE CITY ON ME

by Bert Stratton

It was cold in her apartment. But did she have to call the city on me? It was September and the heat was hard to regulate. (Fall is the hardest season because the outdoor temperature fluctuates so much.) She hadn’t paid her rent, either. It was the 20th of the month. Also, she bad-mouthed my building manager and ripped down curtains in the hallway.

Bad stuff. But I could handle it, except her calling the city on me. She was way-late with the rent, yet she felt she could drop a dime on me?

I first rented to her 10 years ago, at another building. I didn’t remember her other than I had marked “late payer” on some notes I kept.

. . . I’ll wait her out and not renew her lease. Just five months to go. Or better yet, she doesn’t cough up the rent this month, and I evict her.

Now she’s texting my onsite manager: “You’re too old! I don’t like your tone! And the way my rent gets paid is none of your business!”

Now she says she’s moving. Yes.

Nope. We go to court.

She tells the magistrate she has medical problems, and she tells me she has been laid off from her schoolteacher job for hitting a kid. “It isn’t true,” she says. “But it’s in court, so I can’t get another job.” The magistrate gives her five days to move out. Her son is up from Florida, and he guarantees she’ll be out.

“I’ve never been late,” she says to me.

“You’ve never been on time,” I say. (I keep my cool. I’ve been listening to Sam Harris’ meditation app.)

She’s still here. Five days later. She says, “My son has arthur-itis and is in pain, and it’s raining. I’ll be out by noon tomorrow.”

“We go to court at 11:30 am tomorrow if you’re not out by 10 am,” I say.

She says, “I was telling the kids to put away the toys in class and I tapped one with a toy, and then this boy, Armani, started crying and said he got hit on the head, and he went to the office. I got escorted out of the building. It has ruined my life.”

She has a record; the City of Cleveland criminal docket has all the particulars. I don’t usually look at Cleveland, because most of my action is in Cuyahoga County Common Pleas and the city of Lakewood. She has evictions, traffic violations and the school-related assault case.

“I’ll be out by 10 am. I’m a good person,” she says.

Today. 10 am. There’s a U-Haul truck in the alley. I’ll wait her out. No court.

5:03 pm.

She’s gone.

Note to self: Don’t rent to her a third time.