When my landlady, Amanda, tossed my belongings in the trash and locked me out without warning, I thought I had lost everything. However, just 24 hours later, I watched her dragging her own furniture to the curb as she faced her own eviction. That, my friends, is pure karma.
The Dream of Living Independently
Ever since I turned 18, I dreamed of having my own place.
As my career progressed and my finances improved, I knew it was time to find my own space.
—Finding the perfect apartment is harder than finding the perfect partner —my friend Jen joked.
And to be honest, she wasn’t wrong.
When the real estate agent showed me a charming little apartment in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood, I thought I had finally found the home of my dreams.
—The owner is Mr. Fred —the agent explained. —He has owned this building for decades.
—Can I meet him? —I asked.
—Actually, his daughter takes care of everything —he replied. —Her name is Amanda. She lives next door and manages all the rentals in her father’s buildings.
I met Amanda that same day.
—My father is semi-retired —she explained. —I handle all property matters on his behalf. Any issues, questions, or concerns should go directly through me.
I signed the lease (later realizing it was in Fred’s name, not Amanda’s) and moved in the following weekend.
The Beginning of the Problem
After three months of peaceful living in my apartment, my washing machine started making a strange noise.
I called Amanda. The phone rang several times before going to voicemail.
—Hey, Amanda. This is Evie from apartment 2B. My washing machine is making a weird noise. Could you send someone to check it? Thanks!
I also sent her a text explaining the issue in detail.
No response.
A day passed. Then another. A whole week.
Finally, Amanda texted me.
—I’ll be there in an hour.
No prior notice. No asking if I’d even be home.
Luckily, my meeting was canceled that day, so I managed to get home in time.
When I opened the door, Amanda stood there, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.
—I don’t have all day —she said as a greeting.
I explained that the washing machine made a loud, metallic noise.
—That’s not a big deal —she replied indifferently. —It’s old, but it still works.
—That’s it? —I asked, trying to hide my frustration. —It sounds like something is broken inside.
—These older models are noisy —she dismissed. —Everyone complains, but they last forever. Just don’t overload it.
—Alright… —I muttered, annoyed. —Thanks for checking.
But I knew this wouldn’t end well.
The Washing Machine Breaks—And I Get Evicted
Two weeks later, while working from home, I decided to do my laundry.
Twenty minutes into the cycle, I heard a strange gurgling sound. I turned just in time to see water seeping under the bathroom door, flooding my hardwood floors.
—No, no, no! —I gasped, panicking.
Water gushed from the bottom of the washing machine, spilling across the floor faster than I could react.
Just then, someone started pounding on my door.
—HEY! WATER IS LEAKING THROUGH MY CEILING! —a furious male voice yelled.
I opened the door, mortified.
—I’m so sorry! My washing machine just broke and flooded everything. I’m trying to clean it up!
—”Trying” isn’t good enough! —he snapped. —My ceiling is ruined! Who’s your landlord?
I immediately called Amanda. No answer.
I texted her:
EMERGENCY: My washing machine flooded my apartment and the one below. Need URGENT assistance.
Nothing.
The Eviction
The next day, when I got home from work, Amanda was standing at my door, arms crossed, expression cold.
—YOU’RE OUT! —she shouted. —I THREW YOUR STUFF IN THE TRASH. YOU FLOODED THE NEIGHBORS. THIS ISN’T YOUR HOME ANYMORE!
I froze.
—What?! You told me the machine was fine! I asked you to fix it!
—You misused it —she said smugly. —The damage is extensive, and I won’t have irresponsible tenants in my father’s buildings.
Anger boiled inside me.
—Your father’s buildings that you manage so well? —I shot back. —Let me speak to him.
—He trusts my judgment —she said coldly. —The locks have been changed. Your lease is terminated for property damage.
—That’s illegal! You can’t just kick me out without notice!
But Amanda ignored me.
The Tables Turn
I swallowed my rage and did the smart thing. I took photos and videos of everything—my belongings thrown in the trash, damaged items, and my keys no longer working.
That night, I sat down with my laptop and started digging.
Amanda had always presented herself as the owner, but the lease I signed listed Mr. Fred, her father, as the actual landlord.
I searched county property records and found his phone number.
I called him directly.
The next morning, Fred called me back with an offer:
He would compensate me for my damaged belongings, reinstate my lease, and cover all the repair costs. He also promised that a brand-new washing machine would be installed.
In exchange, I agreed not to take legal action.
—One more thing —he added, sighing. —I want to apologize personally. Amanda… has been abusing her authority over my properties without my knowledge. That ends now.
Fred evicted Amanda from the apartment next door, where she had been living rent-free while collecting rent from other tenants.
—The new washing machine will be delivered tomorrow —he assured me, handing me my apartment keys back. —And from now on, I will personally manage all the rentals.
As I closed the door behind him and looked around my apartment, I couldn’t help but smile.
Sometimes, karma works in mysterious ways.