Until May last year I was living in a rented flat. A nice, ground floor (which comes in play later) one-bedroom flat.
I seldom had issues with my letting agency - actually only once, which is what I'll be telling you all about right now.
It was a Saturday afternoon; I was home (I was living on my own), watching television or something. Walking past the bathroom, I noticed that some blue-ish liquid had started overflowing inside the tub. Checking, the same liquid was starting to "mount" in the toilet itself. At first, I try some unplugging techniques (from the use of a plunger to application of some specific product), but alas - no luck. I check with my neighbour, finding out that the issue was related only to half of the building. I proceed therefore to place a call to the agency, although aware it was closed - it was after all an emergency, as the level of the liquid was slowly but constantly rising, and some small, quasi-spherical, brown, clearly biological... uhm... items had suddenly appeared. No luck, of course. I left a message on their voicemail explaining the issue and stating that I was going to call a plumber. I go upstairs, tell the people living there who of course offer to cover a portion of the cost and call a plumber. Who gets there, checks everything and calls a heavy-duty swewr cleaning company.
Uh-oh.
Anyway, they arrive, unclog the whole shebang and hit me with a £123 (yes, 123) bill. Which I pay, of course.
On Monday I call the agency again and explain them what had happened and how much I had paid. Well, they explain me that, as they (and through them the owner of the flat, who live some hundreds of miles away and whose telephone number I never had) were not consulted, they wouldn't assist me in recovering the sum I had spent and wouldn't refund my part.
Luckily, at the supermarket (where I was buying whisky and icecream to calm myself down) I run into the lady living on the top floor. Who offers her assistance in helping me recover the money at least from the people living in the building (also, she and her husband owned two of the flats in the building anyway).
Well, two days later the total was in my mailbox, divided into 5 different envelopes - one from the owner of the flat I was living in, with thanks "for taking care of the place" and apologies for the lady from the agency "misbehaving".
by the way, sorry for having switched from past to present tense and back again in the narration
I seldom had issues with my letting agency - actually only once, which is what I'll be telling you all about right now.
It was a Saturday afternoon; I was home (I was living on my own), watching television or something. Walking past the bathroom, I noticed that some blue-ish liquid had started overflowing inside the tub. Checking, the same liquid was starting to "mount" in the toilet itself. At first, I try some unplugging techniques (from the use of a plunger to application of some specific product), but alas - no luck. I check with my neighbour, finding out that the issue was related only to half of the building. I proceed therefore to place a call to the agency, although aware it was closed - it was after all an emergency, as the level of the liquid was slowly but constantly rising, and some small, quasi-spherical, brown, clearly biological... uhm... items had suddenly appeared. No luck, of course. I left a message on their voicemail explaining the issue and stating that I was going to call a plumber. I go upstairs, tell the people living there who of course offer to cover a portion of the cost and call a plumber. Who gets there, checks everything and calls a heavy-duty swewr cleaning company.
Uh-oh.
Anyway, they arrive, unclog the whole shebang and hit me with a £123 (yes, 123) bill. Which I pay, of course.
On Monday I call the agency again and explain them what had happened and how much I had paid. Well, they explain me that, as they (and through them the owner of the flat, who live some hundreds of miles away and whose telephone number I never had) were not consulted, they wouldn't assist me in recovering the sum I had spent and wouldn't refund my part.
Luckily, at the supermarket (where I was buying whisky and icecream to calm myself down) I run into the lady living on the top floor. Who offers her assistance in helping me recover the money at least from the people living in the building (also, she and her husband owned two of the flats in the building anyway).
Well, two days later the total was in my mailbox, divided into 5 different envelopes - one from the owner of the flat I was living in, with thanks "for taking care of the place" and apologies for the lady from the agency "misbehaving".
by the way, sorry for having switched from past to present tense and back again in the narration


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