by Bobby May
If you owe somebody 300 dollars, here’s what you don’t do:
- Ignore messages from the person who politely asked when you would be okay to pay the money back.
- After a certain amount of time, delete the person you owe money to from Facebook so as to distance yourself from any communication with them.
- Get on your fucking high horse about "respect" in defence of a sudden confrontation about not paying the money back.
- Not pay the fucking money back.
In September 2011, I crossed paths with the biggest scumbag in the world.
After a year and a half of only having to deal with my hometown of Hurstville NSW on the odd Sunday afternoon to visit my family, I found myself back there. Again. And it fucking sucked.
At the end of 2010, the company I worked at lost a major contract. Prior to this I was living the high-life in North Sydney, a mere kilometre away from my job. Life was actually so good that I was still consistently late for work as being so close to my job provided me with more time to sleep in.
Our boss told a handful of us in the meeting room, "We lost the contract." Immediately, I panicked, thinking solely about the fact I might be have to move back with my family in Hurstville— a prospect that was completely horrifying. "What’s going to happen?" I directly asked my manager as I shut my eyes expecting more bad news. "We don’t know" he said.
"We will be busy until the end of 2010. After that we don’t know."
Well, I knew. By mid-March I couldn’t keep up the high-life in North Sydney, and I found myself back at the family home in Hurstville: Sydney’s shit-ditch. Not only that, but I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, and getting zero rest on a nightly basis. It was a step backwards, but yes, at least I had a home to go to.
I’m fairly lucky in that regard.
After three months of inaction, barely searching for a new place to live, my sister Anna approached me. ”This guy is moving out of my house, do you want the room?” I immediately committed, and begun plans to get the fuck out of Hurstville. My sister added, "the guy wants his bond back immediately so would you mind paying that?"
I didn’t mind at all. It was a beautiful terrace house in the heart of the city.
I handed the money over.
Expecting to move in the following week, my sister told me the guy (from here on, we’re going to call him Greg, which is not this individual’s real name) needed an extra week as he was having problems sorting his new room out. I didn’t have a problem with that at all.
A week later I finally moved in. Greg and I never crossed paths in the transitional process, though I did hear him exit.
"Greg’s gone?" I asked my sister.
"Yeah. But he’ll be back. He left some of his stuff here."
The living room was scattered with Greg’s belongings, which included a massive bed frame inconveniently placed in the door way, and garbage bags full of miscellaneous items. It was fucking landfill.
I turned to Anna shaking my head, "He’ll be back soon, right?" I said. “Yeah” she said. "He owes me a bit of money too, but he said he needs a bit of time to settle in, and then he’d be good for it."
“Cool”, I said.
THREE WEEKS LATER
Greg’s belongings hadn’t moved. In the early morning, I was clumsily walking through the living room to get to the laundry, where I tripped on one of Greg’s garbage bags and fell on my face.
"Anna, has there been any word from Greg? Is he going to pick up his shit?" Anna said that she tried messaging Greg, and he said he needed another week to pay her back. As for the massive bed frame, he was trying to sell it. There was no word on the garbage bags full of belongings littering the living room.
Anna said she’d try to contact him again.
"Cool", I said.
ONE WEEK LATER
No reply at all from Greg.
ONE WEEK LATER
Greg finally responds to one of Anna’s messages: ”What have I left there?”
Was he serious? Things were beginning to get ridiculous at this point. I didn’t believe for a second that he had NO recollection of all the clutter he left behind.
Was he standing in his room thinking, "Man, I wonder what I left there?" as he turned to his new room which consisted of one blanket on the floor, and no bed. "I just have no idea what I could have left there…" he thought to himself.
I imagined myself talking to him in person, "YOU LEFT YOUR BEDFRAME, MAN. And I know this because:
- I tripped over it.
- It’s in the middle of the doorway where people fucking walk.”
Frustrated by the lack of response later that week, Anna and I put all of his shit out on the street for council pickup, which was something we should never have had to do ourselves. Though judging by who we were dealing with, we were faced with very little choice.
I began to get the sickness that everyone was getting. It was the change in season, I think. I got up one morning in early September completely stuffed up and annoyed by the lack of sleep.
I stumbled into the shower only to find that I left my towel back in my room, so after my shower I dried myself with a roll of toilet paper.
What I’m trying to say is: It was not a good day at all so far.
Shortly after struggling to dress myself, I stumbled over to the mailbox, only to be reminded of Greg as every piece of mail I sifted through was for him. I had forgotten all about Greg ever since my sister and I threw his belongings out on the street two weeks earlier.
"What happened with Greg?" I caught my sister off guard, who had also forgotten about the fact that this guy STILL owed her over 300 dollars, and a response to at least half a dozen unreplied emails. “Nothing” she said, "I’ll contact him over Facebook."
One thing I’ll say here is that Greg was lucky to be owing my sister 300 dollars. Any other person would be chasing the amount of money up in a more proactive way, but that wasn’t how we were brought up. It was in our nature to be patient with people, particularly good people.
Though we were about to find that Greg was not a good person. He was a fucking scumbag.
Suspicious, I looked to find Greg on Facebook by searching his full name from one of the thousand pieces of mail we now have of his. I found out on my own accord that Greg had in fact DELETED my sister from Facebook shortly after never replying to her emails or texts.
Doing nothing to help my sister at this point in time would make me a bad brother, so without thinking, and without telling my sister, I took it upon myself to get involved and message this scumbag:
I will make this brief.
I think it’s an incredibly low, scumbag thing to do for you to take advantage of my sister’s good nature and NOT pay her back.
Do you think that by simply ceasing communication, your debt to her will go away? That’s not how it works.
Pay her back, or at the very least, let her know when you WILL be paying her back by making contact with her.
I hope we can resolve this soon before too long.
Quick and to the point, I let Greg know that should he be avoiding this debt on purpose by deleting Anna, his strategy would not go unrecognised and would be dealt with.
So here’s what a good person is supposed to do at this point:
- Make contact with the person you owe money to.
- Explain yourself and discuss a solution amicably.
- Get on with your life.
That is not what Greg does. His reply:
"I’ve addressed this with Anna. Never EVER make communication with me, or attempt to threaten me again."
I slumped back in my seat, completely shocked at his response. “Threaten”? Is that what he considers to be a threat? I couldn’t believe it.
My sister shortly after came knocking on my door with Greg’s response to her:
"The reason I’m not responding to you is because you never presented any evidence of what I had to pay you, simply an email with an amount in it.
Even though you treated me with 0 respect when I lived at that house. I payed you rent and bills always without hesitation.
Not planning on paying you back any time soon. Perhaps you could forward me evidence of what I owe (and when I owed it) and then I’ll possibly consider it. Alternatively, make an official complaint.
But don’t get your siblings to contact me. Low.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the email response of a completely deluded, drama hungry, sociopathic scumbag, or in basic terms, a bad person.
Dealing with Greg over the past twenty minutes reminded me of dealing with the bully in primary school who had A.D.H.D.
I remember being 6 years old and sitting on a really tall wall by myself at lunchtime, drinking my juice box. And then the bully with A.D.H.D approached me.
Scared senseless by the intense smile he had on his face, I sat as still as I could on the high wall, not knowing what to do while he slowly approached me.
Mere moments later, he pushed me off the high wall and kicked dirt in my eyes as my body smacked onto the concrete. My juice box was everywhere.
There was no way around dealing with the bully who had A.D.H.D, because he had problems that extended far beyond proper reasoning— he was always going to push me off the wall and laugh as I lay there crying.
But I wasn’t in primary school anymore. Obviously.
I knew on my side of things that I wouldn’t let up. I was not going to "never try to contact" him ever again. I wasn’t going to do ANYTHING he fucking wanted— I was going to stay sitting on my wall.
I simply said,
"Good. And for the record, it wasn’t a threat.
Just do the right thing.”
He responded quickly,
"Please cease communication."
I fought back,
"I’ll cease communication once this matter is resolved, bud.
Until then I’ll be following it up.”
He didn’t respond.
And just like that, I was finally winning at something in my life. I was beginning to think that there would have been some sense in dealing with the bully who had A.D.H.D in primary school.
When Greg asked that I “please cease communication" like some kind of retarded robot from the future, I almost did.
But I kept going, because I knew that if I had stopped, I’d be letting the six year old in myself down. I may as well have walked straight out into my back garden and kicked dirt in my own eyes.
This pride in myself continued for the next five minutes, and extended to Anna, who came to me with her response to Greg:
You’ll get a formal complaint if that’s what you wish. I have my own lawyers so don’t give me that absolute rubbish.
If any of that was actually true you would have had the guts to say so at the time, and not once did you say you weren’t going to pay. In fact, in writing you said that you would and it’s dated so I don’t know why you insist on making trouble for yourself.
And regardless of your claims of mistreatment which are totally unfounded and ridiculous, it doesn’t change the fact that I paid for your share of the bills that YOU still owe, also evidenced in writing. The fact is I’ve tried to contact you numerous times and you never responded. There’s no argument at all on your side for that and don’t try to drum one up because you’ll be reaching and never get there.
It’s a black and white case.
I never asked my brother to send you a message, but he knows I let people push me around so he took it upon himself to chase you up. If he’s vexed you in any way, I will talk to him about it. It’s my fault I allowed this to get strung out for as long as it has been.
Don’t try to get on your high horse about respect when you have openly disregarded me for months and I have enough texts and emails to disprove your case entirely. It’s simply a matter of money. You owe money and you are making more trouble for yourself by just deciding not to pay it.
You have simply decided not to pay because enough time has passed. You are disconnected from this place and its people and you think you can get away with it.
Now, with my brother’s email, being the icing on the cake for you, you can take the high road and think you’re justified? The law is not on your side and that’s obvious. So get high on your own drama if you want, or be a better man and pay what you owe. It’s fucking simple and it’ll cost you more to carry this out.
Pay it, or I will lodge the complaint as per your request.
Do not contact me again unless you have decided to do the right thing and pay me back. It’s that simple, I will not respond to you otherwise.
If I don’t hear from you within the week I will take that as a go ahead to pursue this formally and from that point you can deal with my lawyer.”
With that, Greg replied instantaneously:
"I want this bullshit to end, so I’ll pay you."
And he did.
Does some dirtbag owe you money? What have you done to get it back? Shoot me a response.