Here’s to you, Daniel J. Roberge (suck it)

Dearest Mr. Roberge,

I suspect you’re the sort who does vanity Googling on a regular basis. As the incompetent manager of at least one parcel of property, I would guess that you’d have to. So maybe you’ll see this, maybe you won’t. I don’t give a fuck either way.

I live in the New Meadows apartment complex in Dover, New Hampshire. I know you’ve heard of it. Things were pretty uneventful until early this month, when I got a phone call explaining that many August rent checks of New Meadows tenants had never been cashed and were about to be. That’s fine, it’s up to me to track my own finances, but this was a harbinger of what a fucking idiot you are and how you operate this place.

So then comes December 17, an otherwise nifty and uneventful birthday for me, and I come home to find a notice stuck in the door frame claiming that I hadn’t paid my rent this month and would be evicted from the premises as of Dec. 25 if I didn’t settle up. Here’s the problem with this, you fucking asshole: I paid my rent, on time, just like I always do, and have the canceled check image to prove it. I e-mailed this image to Brian, the on-site guy who, by the way, is extraordinarily helpful and cool and apologetic. And your Facebook friend. And he told me that the higher-ups “managing” New Meadows seem to think that 90 people never paid their December rent. That would be, let’s see, close to half of the units here. Maybe more, depending on occupancy. If my guess is accurate, you delivered these demented death sentences at the same time, meaning that you were prepared to give 90 households the heave-ho on Christmas Day. How classy. You make Ebenezer Scrooge look like Kris Kringle.

I got that settled at no small cost to my Friday, but apparently this was only round one. Now I have a notice claiming that I’m in violation of my lease for not turning on my heat. Well, asshole, this building bleeds heat like a whore bleeds herpes, so despite a spate of five-degree days lately, it stays close to 60 in here overnight. That’s good enough to keep me from burning gas. And the wording of the lease (#27) consists of this:

All utilities are to be maintained by the tenant and all utility charges are the responsibility of the tenant. Lessee agrees that he shall maintain all utilities within the leased premises.

You then go on to say in your shitgram that this is somehow tied to an obligation to activate (your bold) my heat. Guess what, shithead? I don’t care if your pipes freeze, since this is what I assume you’re worried about. I signed a lease that did not obligate me to seek outside fuel. If I do, I do. If not, that’s your problem.

I also like how you slip this note to me on a Saturday morning and tell me I have 24 hours to act before Really Bad Things happen. Maybe bumblefucks like you have no concept of normal business hours, but you might want to rethink your timing when you plan your next misguided act of aggressive hollowness.

You know, I’d love to see someone evicted for not turning on the gas heat in his apartment. I laugh at the idea of what a judge would think of such a thing, especially given that fact that you can’t read or interpret the provisions in your own lease, which leave me trivially off the hook. I could call Unitil and get the heat turned on and simply not use it, but I won’t, because I look forward to your incurring court costs in trying to oust me, should you go that route. I think we both know how that would turn out.

This is on top of your brilliant directive to residents with Christmas trees. Just so your janitorial types don’t have to vacuum above and beyond the call of duty, you’re asking that people chuck their trees off their balconies. This may be news to your stupid ass, but some of those balconies are 30-35 feet off the ground. Kids playing under the second-floor balconies (and this place is overrun with small children, as you might know) often emerge from under these balconies. Are you really going to open yourself up to potential liability lawsuits bred of your own unwillingness to be mildly inconvenienced? Think of the possibilities here, Mr. Roberge.

I was willing to overlook your company’s mishandling of August rent checks and even the misbred eviction notice, but after this mornings’s bullshit I have had enough. Go ahead and try to get rid of me for not burning fossil fuels like a good boy. I can’t wait. And fuck you, and have a very shitty Christmas.

I’ll be sending versions of this to Foster’s Daily Democrat, the Portsmouth Herald, the Better Business Bureau, and anyone else who may listen. I acknowledge that I may have to clean this fucking shit up a bit first. I may also agitate among the residents by posting something on the community bulletin board in the mailroom. I bet that will make your life more pleasant, just as you’ve enhanced mine.


Kevin M. Beck

6 thoughts on “Here’s to you, Daniel J. Roberge (suck it)”

  1. man, this is the best read i’ve had in awhile. also, his Facebook profile pic makes me wonder if he’s secretly Dog the Bounty Hunter sans quality hair.

  2. A landlord from years ago pulled into the driveway on a Saturday morning and saw me up on the roof repairing leaks and broken shingles. It wasn’t something we had negotiated but it was something we had briefly discussed. Without a hello or go-to-hell he launched into a tirade about some fence issue I said I’d look after but hadn’t had the time to. He was really keyed up, as if he’d been rehearsing in his car on the way over.

    I might have overlooked his invective speech and his (literally) spittle-flecked diatribe but for the presence of my tender (at the time) wife and our infant daughter. Their discomfort was certainly not warranted and yet I held my tongue for a moment.

    It was about the time that he had come close to the house and had to crane his neck to look at me that it dawned on me that I did indeed occupy a “superior” position. From my vantage he was quite vulnerable and I had possession of a twenty two ounce hammer and a utility knife.

    Invoking command voice I told him something about coming down off the roof on top of him and made a quick move towards the edge of the roof. His eyes got big, he went into reverse, got in his car and left.

    When I paid the next month’s rent minus materials for fixing the fence he just said, “Thank you.”

    Here’s hoping you get similar mileage.

    Off topic but I attended Woodman Park Elementary School in Dover in the second and third grades; 1957-1959. I’ll bet I can remember when the site of your apartment was either field, pasture or woods.

    Time . . .

  3. This has gotten pretty high on Google when searching his name. The only thing beating it is his Facebook, which really doesn’t provide any positive publicity for him either. Nice win. I did this to my boss on Rate My Boss. Now when you search his name, the top things to come up contain “Rating: Asshole” followed by a fun page of dueling comments. He fought back and only made himself appear more retarded. So, let’s hope this jerk comes out with some entertaining defense.

  4. The fumbling of the August checks I could cheerfully overlook. The mishandling of December checks with an attendant nastygram I could even be forgiving toward. The threat about December rent even after I’d resolved it in the rental office was more than a little irritating, and the eviction noticed based on non-existent provision in the least finally burned my ass. All of these things occurred within a three-week period.

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