Saturday, 3 March 2018
The bullied takes on Goliath in the true horror stories in modern Paris part 63
The reaction of Mr. Pride, I must rely on Mme. Landlord’s recount of the assembly general. The chairman of the Syndic was initially hesitant to accept the proxies entrusted to Mme. Landlord because most likely his position had been threatened by Mr. Pride and Mr. Brave. However, upon realizing that the total number of Mme. Landlord’s proxies surpassed that of our opponents, albeit by just mere 17 votes, the Syndic must have felt liberated. Our proxies were accepted. Mme. Landlord could read no reaction on Mr. Pride’s face, but that is the sign of stupefaction. People can react swiftly to small inconveniences, but my experience tells me that huge crisis stun people into delayed reaction.
However, Mr. Pride was accompanied by his lawyer who immediately started defending him. From what I heard the lawyer was monopolizing the assembly general, so it would not do the truth justice by boiling it down to one sentence. Nevertheless I was only told that Mr. Pride’s lawyer defended his right to conduct business inside his properties and demanded the other landlords should refrain from being over sympathetic to Mme. Landlord and her tenant, in this case ‘me’. This encouraged Mr. Pride into claiming that I was no longer feeling discomfort because he had reinstalled his ventilation the right way. Now, I had anticipated him to ignore the fact that he had not yet insulated the ceiling of his properties, thus some residents were still exposed to the noise from his restaurant. What made me gasp was that he decided what I should be feeling physically. He dictates what others should feel or not. Mr. Pride evidently places himself very highly in the universe.
Could I be sadden even more? Yes, for Mr. Brave jumped in and insisted that I knew there was a restaurant beneath her studio, omitting the fact the restaurant’s permit had been denied by the right people when I moved in. It was only afterwards that Mr. Honour, re-granted the permit to his favorite Mme. Empathy. Mr. Brave went on to insist that I deserved the consequence. Now this is from the man who was responsible for the lousy design of the restaurant from Hell. Mr. Brave would have known exactly what suffering I went through: Consistent palpation from continual beating of the wall shuttering noise. I would grit my teeth for a while, but soon would I reach the limit that I had to jump into e hot shower constantly to rescue my body from extreme stress. My eye lids would twitch and things would fall from my hands regularly. You would think Mr. Brave could be sued, but he had covered his track by not signing any contract. It was a black work with no evidence. I have hit the jack pot of ‘beautiful souls’ in Paris, to whom I gave an aptly beautiful name respectively, but the cruelest of all was Mr. Brave because Mr. Pride was an amateur so he could not fully fathom the reality to which I was being subjected.
The party of small shareholders rejected the restaurant business to continue, but it was a victory for a short time because the lawyer of Mr. Pride immediately declared to proceed with a lawsuit against the Syndic and all other landlords. Mr. Pride and Mr. Brave came out stone faced from the room but halted when they saw me standing in the corridor. To be continued.