It wouldn’t be a normal week unless there was another wrinkle or complication, the unwanted fly in the ointment. This week it’s the landlord, a gentleman and a scholar, not, arcing up. Here we are 60% through the sale of the shop – agreements signed, deals done – and he pronounces that if it isn’t done and dusted by Friday he’s pulling the pin on me. The fucker.
Surprise has become such a familiar sensation these days that I no longer really feel it. I just about expect it really. I may as well freeze my eyebrows into an expression of mild surprise permanently. In other words, while this is a dastardly and seemingly foolish demand, it fell well within my range of expectations.
For what it’s worth it’s almost impossible that we’ll be done by Friday, much as I would want it so. Done in his book is money transferred and keys handed over. Given that there are bureaucratic and legal hurdles to clear, not to mention the frustratingly deliberate approach of the buyers, it’s a no go.
So where does that leave us? It’s hard to believe that the landlord would actually follow through given we’re this close to getting it done, but who knows? His bastardry is well established. I suspect it’s his very extreme way of giving us the hurry up.
I responded of course. Explained it was unreasonable. Explained that at this stage it couldn’t be expedited any quicker. Explained that Friday was a no-no. And explained that if he lets us proceed he gets his money, but if he doesn’t, he won’t. *
I said all this very calmly and politely. I’ll get more prickly if and when it’s needed. Worse case scenario I’ll go legal. I certainly won’t go quietly.
And I’ve put the landlord’s name in my black book. He’ll keep.
* I discovered yesterday that they helped themselves to my bank guarantee. Nobody thought to let me know, not even the bank.