The Landlady And The Lock

I remember the landlady I had who'd let herself into my apartment periodically.

First of every month, if I hadn't shown up by two or so to pay the rent, she'd let herself in and want to know where it was, and give me a little speech. I'll never forget the one about how she could destroy my credibility if I ever tried to get government work, because I was untrustworthy because I hadn't paid my rent on time, and I'd never get a security clearance, and SHE COULD DO THIS, if I pushed her!

Wasn't just rent, either. She'd let herself in if she heard a weird noise, or to ask me if I'd seen a thing in the yard, and, I think, just because she was bored. She didn't knock. She simply tried the knob, and then I'd hear the key in the lock, and THERE SHE WAS. I objected, and she pointed out that the lease allowed her the prerogative of inspecting the premises whenever she pleased. It was HER house, not mine, young man, and you watch your tone!

One day, I didn't want to be intruded upon, and I drove a wood screw into the doorjamb in such a way that it would block the door from opening. I got in the habit of doing this whenever I didn't care to be disturbed.

It wasn't more than a couple of weeks after I started doing this that I heard the key in the lock and the sound of the door trying to open. I ignored it. She wrestled with the door awhile and then left. A while later, she came back and knocked. I pulled the screw out (by then, its hole was well defined enough, I could do it with my fingers in a second) and opened the door.

She IMMEDIATELY began screaming at me about how installation of a lock or bolt was a VIOLATION OF MY LEASE!

I said, "What lock or bolt? The only lock I have is the one on the doorknob."

She looked at the doorframe suspiciously. There were no telltale nail or screw holes, much less a lock or latch of any sort (the screwhole was in the doorjamb, well below her eye level, and she didn't notice it. "What did you do to my door?" she demanded.

"I open it," I said, "and sometimes I close it. Occasionally, I use the deadbolt, to which we both have keys. In what way have I violated my lease?"

She gave me a look of naked hatred. "You did SOMETHING," she said.

"Perhaps the door is stuck," I said. "I haven't noticed it myself. Perhaps some sort of maintenance is required. It is, of course, your house, and you are of course welcome to inspect, repair, or replace the door, lock, or frame at your whim, dear lady."

I couldn't keep her out when I was gone, but I did keep her out on occasion when I was home, particularly when I was entertaining. She never did figure out what I was doing, and it drove her crazy, wondering. I think she was glad when I decided not to renew my lease at its expiration period.

The moral of the story: It sucks to be at the mercy of someone else, who can be an ass to you and there's nothing you can do about it. It does inspire novel methods of dealing with the situation, though.

And it makes me wonder if having to deal with people like THIS is how we develop some little kernel of empathy in our hearts...