File this in triplicate, or lose your lunch

Today for the first time of my life, I sat in mediation. If you've had no previous involvement with the legal system, you're probably wondering the same thing that I did. What the hell is mediation? Mediation is the name for a little room that they send you to right before you go back into the courtroom to see the judge. Apparently in small claims court (to which I was also a virgin, thankfully), they always give both parties one last chance to reconcile before they see the judge.

I happened to be one of those parties today. The whole "case" revolved around my last two months of tenancy in what I thought was a fairly decent apartment complex. They claimed that I had stiffed them on two months' rent, and that I was somehow a terrible, terrible person. Initially, I found the whole thing ridiculous. I followed all the necessary steps (or so I thought) to make a clean break with the landlord, and hightail it out of there. I thought to myself, "There's no way that my landlord is going to sue me for a month that the place wasn't even occupied. They have better things to do with their time." I was wrong.

When I received the first notificiation, I thought that this was some form letter that the sent out to everyone, much like those security deposit breakdowns that they send you. This one was different. First off, when you receive this notification, there's an exclamation point in the opening of the letter. I guess this is to inspire awe, or maybe excitement. I'm not sure. What I can say is that receiving a letter in the mail that reads "You are being sued!" is a surprise alright, and not in a good way. It's much like realizing that you're going to shit your pants if you don't get to a bathroom in five minutes. The only problem is that you're driving down a highway with about 10 minutes of road left. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Exactly.

The sleazy lawyer for the plaintiff (a.k.a. the old landlord) was what you would expect in these situations. He was a shady-looking gentleman in an ill-fitting suit with all the class of a really mean meth addict. He didn't scare me, but he really made me want to take a shower. Crazy coincidence, I guess. I googled the dude to see if he had any press worth merit. The first major hits on his name yielded a sex scandal, hookers, and blackmail. Shocking.

I had gathered all my information and played it as cool as I could, given the situation. I was going for the "indignant, yet collected" look during the entire meeting. I pulled off indignant alright, but collected was another matter. Just looking at that chick from the rental office made my blood boil. She was the one that gave me all these assurances that I'd have nothing to worry about when I left. Now she was feigning ignorance about any of my intentions. I guess if you're going to be a heartless landlord, your acting game has to be on point.

We discussed the merits of my case, and looked at all the presented evidence. The whole "disagreement" stemmed from the assertion that I notified them by phone, and not by mail before I left. I actually sent them a letter, but this was only after I was told that I had to notify them in writing. Needless to say, they didn't "get" that letter. Looking back, I probably should have sent it certified mail, which is still a dumb concept if you ask me. I mean, this all happened in 2006. Why couldn't I E-mail them an Acrobat file, with my personal certificate? What is this snail mail nonsense? Fucking dinosaurs. But I digress. I had never broken a lease, so I didn't know that this was a very formal (and legal) process. They produced the usual items, the lease, my addendum, and monies paid. I basically produced the same information minus the one fucking thing that I really needed--the letter.

The slawyer went into his tirade beginning with the all-too-common "If I may." We weren't even in the courtroom. The one thing worse than sleaze is pretense, and already he was testing my patience. He basically blathered on about the evidence that they had, which was essentially the same as mine. He then said that there was always the chance that they could pursue additional fees (they had since instituted painting fees which were about $300, the break lease fee, and something else that I can't remember.) and that there was a good chance that they could get it. I knew this, but I wanted to see what my chances were. Things weren't looking good. We were looking at things from two entirely different perspectives. From his side of the table, I was legally bound. Since they didn't have the letter, there was nothing I could prove. My intentions (while noble) had no merit here. Forget giving one's word, verbal agreements, or integrity. These people were out to milk me for every dime they could until the very end. This made me very angry. Then again, so did showing up to court.

...to be continued.