The Rich Tapestry of Life

Welcome to my page of random mutterings.

Those of you who know me will see a calm veneer. You will also know that I'm easily annoyed. I think it's healthy.

I allow myself to be annoyed most of the time. It doesn't take much. People who use the letter 'H' twice in 'Southampton', txt spk, Tom Jones, and suchlike annoy me in equal measure.

Here you will find tidbits that annoy me, amuse me, and enlighten me, and I shall share them with you, to annoy, amuse, and enlighten you.

Thursday 31 March 2011

Adam fucking Cohen.

Anyone of you who follows my Twitter feed will unquestionably have noticed me persistently banging on about an Adam Cohen. Seeing as lots of you have asked me who he is, I'll write a little blog entry about the fat whining cockrag.

So, a couple of weeks ago I was asked to attend a property in a professional capacity to compile a report stating the condition of a rented property after a tenancy had ceased. I had initially created an inventory on the same property some months ago after it had been radically refurbished and made to look, well, very nice. I am completely independent of both the Landlord and the Tenant, and anyone who has ever rented will know what the purpose of creating such a report is - we need to find who is responsible for any damage should there be any. Landlords and agents use such reports to resolve any disputes that arise between Landlord and Tenant.

I arrived in good spirits as I usually do when I'm at work. This is a fucking miracle in and of itself given as normally I'm quite a cynical bastard at the best of times. So I entered the property to find a little fat bald man staring back at me holding some sort of PDA in his sausage fingers. He thrust his hand towards me and told me his name was Adam Cohen. I like to think that I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I had a feeling that he was a bit of a twat when his handshake was as floppy as Cliff Richard's cock in a strip joint.

'I'm here on the behalf of the tenant,' he said, 'to make sure you do your job properly'.  Well... that was it.... my back was up. There was no going back for this man now. Still I reined my temper in. I walked into the living room while he followed one pace behind me.
 'Do you use a PDA to type your reports? We do.' he said, shoving his business card under my nose, which I accepted and promptly threw on the windowsill. 'No' I said.
 'Well, I've developed this software that allows me to type up the report in real time; it means that my customers get their reports on the same day in double quick time'
'That's nice.' I said. 'We use Dictaphones and take our time because we don't want to be shoddy and make unprofessional mistakes. I like to think that our reports are compiled with care.’
'Do you think anyone in your company would prefer to use a PDA or...'
'No, I don't think so'. I interrupted.
'Maybe the company owner would be interested in buying my software from me. It'd enable you to streamline your business.'
'You'd have to speak to the company owner.' I said, politely.
'You should call him for me; I'd like to speak to him.'

I just stared at him at this point. I was so incredulous. I've never met this man before in my entire life, and now he thinks he's my boss. This was my confirmation that he was indeed a complete and utter fuckwit.

'Look, mate. I'm not your secretary. If you want to speak to him, phone him yourself.'

'Oh, clearly there's some severe mildew patches on the wall to the lower level at both ends of this room. Obviously the Landlord hasn't had the property damp-proofed properly. I recommend you note that down as..' He seemed upset as I interrupted him again... I was... incredibly pissed off, but somehow I hadn't shown it.

'I'd prefer it if you left me alone to compile my report. I don't feel it's very professional of you to try and compromise it by standing and looking over my shoulder and offering your advice. Maybe it'd be better for you to wait in the kitchen until I'm done, and then we can cross reference at the end?' Again, I was polite, but it was becoming more difficult.

And then... he said... 'Well, that just isn't going to happen, is it?'
'Is that right?' I said. 'Let's put it this way, then. Go and wait in a room away from me, or go and sit in your car, or I'm leaving.'
'Well that's just not going to happen' he repeated.

I turned on my heels and walked out of the door, only for him to follow me again shouting up the street at me and calling me names as I got into my car. In a flash he was tapping on my window 'OPEN THE FUCKING WINDOW' he was shouting. I was on the phone to the office minions telling them what a fucking complete fuckhole this man was and how he was trying my patience. Then he opened my car door, at which point I ended my telephone conversation and stepped out of my car. I think he was surprised at this point. I suppose it's fair to say that one can take the man out of South Oxhey, but you can't take South Oxhey out of the man. So, I abandoned my professional tone and stood toe to toe with this odious little wanker and said 'If you touch my car door again, I'll break every single one of your fingers and stuff each of them up your arse. Now, I've asked you nicely, fuck off before I flatten you.' I think I may have called him a fat little prick, too. (Funny that I should use that turn of phrase, the comedic irony being that I'm not exactly Lena Zavaroni, myself)

SUCCESS! Off he fucked waving his PDA around like a fecking eejit. I went back to the property, did my work properly and without bias or interference, and after 3 hours of fucking about, went home.

A few days later I get a call from a number I didn't recognise. I took the call and, fuck me sideways, it's Adam fucking Cohen again calling me to accuse me of having a bias toward the landlord. I got rid of him with a few choice words... Actually, that's not being entirely truthful. I actually told him to fuck off and I put the phone down.

I called the office and asked some questions as to how this little shitbag had managed to contact my personal phone. Bugger me, the office minion, Claire, had only gone and given him my personal number. To say that I went apo-fucking-plectic at her is an understatement. She's one of those student protester types, you know, all snot and bullshit, and mightily proud of the fact that she's doing a degree in Tutankhamun's left testicle or something less important. I proffered that she may benefit more from having a degree of common sense to which she started crying. Oh well.

So, I've had to put up with Adam fucking Cohen calling me at all hours of the day, aggravating me, and so on. I asked Claire to call him and tell him to stop calling me because I was tired of his fountain of bullshit. I then e-mailed Claire and asked her again to call him. Obviously, being a student she's completely incapable of carrying out a simple request, so I had to send her a handwritten note asking her if she translated everything I said into Uzbek and were my e-mails somehow being displayed in wingdings. Anyway, that's another story.

Back to the main issue!

Today, I caught Adam fucking Cohen out in a lie. Upon meeting me, he also claimed that his company had carried out a 'professional cleaning' of the property, and that a receipt or invoice for the work carried out would be sent via e-mail that afternoon. He said that the clean had taken place the day before the tenant left. I had my doubts. I suspected that Adam fucking Cohen was there as a friend of the tenant and someone who could provide her with a receipt for work that hadn't actually been carried out. It was obvious to me that there was no way the property had been professionally cleaned - something that the tenant was obliged to arrange after she had moved out as it was contained within her agreement. So sure was I that it simply hadn't been cleaned as both the tenant and Adam fucking Cohen claimed I'd made the managing agent and the Landlord aware of my misgivings.

So small was the oversight by Adam fucking Cohen that on any other report it wouldn't have even mattered. He hadn't noted the Alarm box on the exterior of the property. Unfortunately for him, I had. Little did Adam fucking Cohen know that the alarm company are able to send a log to the Landlord of when the alarm is armed, and disarmed, and for how long. I first met Adam Cohen on March 10th at 10:30am. He told me that his company had carried out a professional clean at the property on March 9th. They were there for a total of 6 hours, he said.

The log showed that the alarm was armed at 1643hrs on March 3rd, and was not disarmed again until 1005hrs on March 10th.

I called him this morning on the number that he'd so kindly provided on his shitty business card. I asked him to repeat what he'd said to me on March 10th, which he was only too happy to do. I asked him to repeat how long it would take to carry out a professional cleaning of a four bedroom property. 'Four to Six hours' he said.
'So it wouldn't be possible to carry out a full professional clean in, say, twenty-five minutes, then?'
'You're just being ridiculous' he said.
'And you are an unmitigated liar' I replied, and proceeded to batter him with the information from the alarm company.

Never one to do things by halves, I also checked out his own price list. I'd had a look at his shitty website having gleaned the address from the business card he'd shoved unceremoniously under my nose at our first meeting, and that I had originally discarded on the windowsill in the lounge.  He invoiced the tenant for £375 for a 'full professional clean'. This would have been fine had his price list not stated that for a 4 bedroom property it would cost no more than £200? I told him that in future if he intended to behave like an obnoxious fat little know-it-all cockrag dwarf that he'd better make sure he did a better job of covering his cloven-hoofed tracks. 

Never in my entire life have I had so much fun being called all the bastards under the sun.

OH THE FUCKING JOY!

Then, just to rub it in, I got on the blower to each of the clients he took great pleasure in telling me that he carried out work for.

Purely to let them know they'd been dealing with a dishonest little bald crook, of course.

He who laughs last...

1 comment:

  1. Cohen = Jewish nuff said. And South Oxhey may be many things but it's honest that's for sure.

    Priceless dit, for all other fake house cleaning, there's MasterCard ;)

    ReplyDelete