as a letting agent, which i was during uni and for a bit afterwards,
you get to see some truly horrendous things. the way some people choose to live is beyond baffling. for sheer simplicity, my favourite was the three brothers in fallowfield who didn't take kindly to being turfed out at the end of their lease because their landlady was moving back in. she rang me in tears the next day. the dirty bastards had all shat on the floor and wiped their arses on the curtains. which is unspeakably vile. but the worst thing was that our inventory checker had put "house clean and tidy throughout"... try explaining that away...

in the days before digital cameras, we would have about 20 films a week to develop. boots must have thought we were seriously dull because there would be about 10 photos of a carpet burn, 5 photos of a cracked worktop, etc. so one day i was in manchester county court doing my first ever residential possession hearing. the tenants were a pair of druggies that made trainspotting look restrained. their flat was so unbelievably foul that we actually had to get environmental health to clear it when they went. i was very nervous as it was my first ever court hearing (and this was back in the days when i was an idealistic english student who was never ever going to sell her soul to the law for filthy cash... sigh...) but all went well.

however, on the way out of the court, i was still a bit shaky with nerves. those county court judges can be total twats sometimes (like the one who announced to me in full hearing of a public possession hearing "miss swipe. stop for the love of everything. YOU are an express train. and neither i, nor i suspect any of this court, am on board." or the one who said, "well that means miss swipe will be working overnight tonight then, doesn't it? a matter of supreme indifference to this court". i could go on. the upshot is, they are often horrible to you!) the most gorgeous guy in manchester held the door open for me as i left the court. he was like my very own mills and boon perfect hero, all stubble and dark hair and piercing blue eyes. our eyes met. he smiled. i swooned. and dropped my file.

"oh, allow me," he said, dropping chivalrously to his knees. and picking up my scattered photos. glancing idly at them as he picked them up. and finding himself staring right at the business end of a toilet that was actually hairy with sticky pubes and glistening with a mountain of effluent that rose way above the seat height. the shower photo was almost worse. prince charming practically threw the file back in my face and shot through the courtroom doors like the greasiest of greasy weasels. never saw that one again!

we also had a complete stoner who banned us from carrying out viewings at his flat, despite having been given the relevant 24 hours' contractual notice. he rang me and said, "you can't come in. i am out, but i have barricaded the front door. so you can cancel those people." "oh," i said politely. "mind my asking how you got out?" "yeah," he replied, "i just went out the back door." when the viewing staff got in (through the back door, naturally), he was growing marijuana in the lounge, and clearly had never ever washed up a single thing in his entire 12 month tenancy. there was also a shit encrusted vibrator lying in the kitchen sink.

i do miss that job sometimes!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 27 Mar 2010, 14:37, 1 reply)

When I moved out of my flat the letting agency said they wished everyone was as clean and tidy as me
They didn't know I had to spend about 3 days cleaning the place.
The carpets needed shampooing several times to get spots of oily mud out of them (from bikes). I'd missed one on the checkout inspection so my girlfriend conventiently stood on top of it.

I couldn't get the oven clean - there was still some pie gravy behind the heating element I couldn't get to, the toilet seat was broken and there were still some marks on the walls but the agents thought it was spotless.
( thistle, Sat 27 Mar 2010, 19:46, closed)