- I feel so bad about it, Ann. You know I do. My nature is to honour my debts, even before they are due. I am making a big effort to withhold this one and only weeks rent.
- I know, Team O. Just confirming how much you are giving me and how much you owe me.
- I know you know, Ann. We´ve talked about this before, haven´t we? This is the only thing these people respond to: money. It is really sad, if you think of it. Unidimensional robots, with no emotional side. Some sort of economical autism. It is remarkably sad, furthermore, when the person in question already has money, and quite a lot of it.. Don´t you think so? I am not against money, or against rich people. I like and love rich people. I admire them. I am not rich because I don´t live up to it. If I could, if I had what it takes, I´d have 500 employees, and would be bragging around about it, about being the one that provides for 500 families. What I really regret, what I feel deeply sorry and sad about (besides been angry about it in an equal manner, particularly when it affects me directly) is this money for money, I don´t care for anything or anybody but money, I don´t spend money because I want money and money and that is all.
- How much are you going to give me, then?
- So, since the only motivation for them is money, I get a small window of opportunity. He doesn´t hold every card, simply because of that. He holds almost every card, but I can have problems with my credit card that can end up preventing me from getting the money from the cash point, right?
- Right…
- And he won´t take a cheque, right?
- Right.
- And he won´t accept a bank transfer, either
- (sigh) Right, Team O.
- And… 90 pounds seem to be much more money for him than for me, strange as it might sound. How many? 10 big houses around London? What net worth is that? 5, 6 million? And he comes here every day to break my balls, to use my kitchen, to drink my milk and get a free lighter from me?
- A free lighter?
- ´Course! Last time he came, me and Phil (well, actually him and me) were in my flat
- Your room…
- We were in my room and he came in, saying “Hi-iiii”, with this sooo annoying sing-song stupid childish greeting, like me or him were children or stupid, or even friends. “Anybody av a li-h-er?”. Phil translated, and I gave him a lighter. And what did he do? He turned around and went away, with my lighter. “Bye-iiiii”, waving his hand to his back, showing the top part of the line of his arse, with his loose trousers. He never gave it back, or mentioned it. Of course! It´s just a lighter, a used one. How much is it worth, 50p? Sure, so I, the poor old immigrant, am giving him, the big local millionaire, 50p. It works with milk and with errands, too (I mean as well).
- I´ll come back later. I gotta go.
- All right, Ann. See you. Bye-iiiiii.
Ann moved on. She had to finish her Saturday morning round. I knew she did not have neither time nor patience to hear my whole complaint set. She agreed, on the other hand. So, what is the point of complaining to her? Well, first of all, relief. Second of all, the chance to avoid paying.
I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, as the say here, I hadn´t had the chance to reiterate my complaint about the sink. On the other side, as they say everywhere, I did have the chance of withholding another weeks rent, chance I was committed to seize. I put on my jacket and went out for a walk, so I wouldn´t be there when she came back. Stupid as I may be, I do learn. I had my own strategy, myself, and I felt it was starting to work.
Oh, boy, did it work. Since I hadn´t paid to Ann, I received a visit in the evening. “Team O, it´s Doug.” Doug is the younger and shorter brother, the one with the loose eye. It is virtually impossible to fix his glance: the crazy eye, and the reluctance to make eye contact. Being a foreigner, I read this as an expression of his meanness, as a sign of his bad intentions and his lack of honesty. I know its customary here, but I can´t help it. No matter how long you stay here, you never get used to this not catching peoples eyes. I fight with it, I find myself battling with strangers in the train to get them to look right to my pupils. Some do the same effort, try to smile, or try to look tough. But most of them, nearly all, simply avoid eye contact all together. The more you try, the more they look down or around.
You can say what you want, in Doug´s case it is right. He does not look at you because he is mean and weak. Like his brother Mike, he is a complete miser, but I don´t think that has anything to do with the way he behaves when talking to people.
- Uhhh… do have anyyyyy… rent for meeee?
- Uhhhhhh…. I douuuu…….not, Doug. I have paid Ann this morning.
- Oh! Is that soouuuu? I will uhh…. Talk to her, then.
- All right.
- Ohh… about the sink uh….
- Oh, the magic sink! Three months already. What is wrong with that sink?
Of course he did not acknowledge what I was saying. He simply went on, finishing his previous sentence. These constant pauses seem to give you an advantage in the conversation, since you can step in. But it´s an illusion, since they won´t grant you the privilege of hearing you.
- You know uhh…. I have to do some plumbing in the uhh… other house, you know? I will get this done when I finish uhh… this other work
- Stop talking to me about the sink. Your brother has chewed that sink for months, and know he sends you to keep building rubbish excuses about the sink.
- Ah! Ok! Well, see you tomorrow then, Team O! Bye-iiiii!