Sunday, 15 April 2018

The bullied takes on Goliath in the true horror stories in modern Paris part 69

Mme. Landlord creased her face and spat ‘Do not expect this tenant to reciprocate decency.  She is from the lowest end of the society!’  Now I do not claim to know much about the society in France, but I had been surprised that Mme. Harmonie allowed her team to do renovation work over 4 weekends in row in this respective area of Paris where sensible people refrain from doing washing on Sundays.   Even Mme. Empathy left us in peace on Sundays to show some class.  

Nevertheless I still had to pin hope on her because the sales of the restaurant to Mme. Harmonie practically rendered my lawsuit against the restaurant invalid.  All the deception to the authority was committed by the former restaurant owner, not the new one.  Even the name of their lawyer was withdrawn from the online noticeboards of the court cases because there would be no meaningful verdict now.  

The plus side of this, however, was that Mr. Honour, the biggest Goliath, was gone with Mme. Empathy.  It was a humongous relief.  Sure it was his misplaced sympathy in his friend that put the restaurant from Hell beneath my floor, but it was also his influence that forced Mr. Pride and Mme. Empathy to do the right thing, though partially.  I was rescued from the death chamber of noise and leaked electricity.  Now it was up to Mme. Harmonie to insulate her ceiling.  She had called out to the landlords that she would like to come to favorable agreement, had she not?

It turned out what Mme. Harmonie really meant was ‘favorable to her only.’  She walked into my room and closed the window and told Mme. Landlord that I should keep my windows closed all the time if the restaurant noise bothered me.  Mme. Landlord hit back, ‘People have the right to enjoy fresh air from the opened windows in this part of Paris, though it may be different from where you are from!’  I gasped that a restaurant owner who serve food to the public should have little regards to the well-being of others.  Also the decisively superior attitude of Mme. Landlord made me wonder how she really saw me and her gay tenant in her mind.  I was to find out several months later.

Back to Mme. Harmonie.  She turned to me all of sudden in English demanded that I admit that the noise of the kitchen did not bother me.  Now, she came in the morning when there was no clients in the restaurant.  There was only one chef and he was standing still in front the cooking table.  It would be different once the guests came in and the chef and his assistant chef would be rushing around the kitchen, opening and bang closing the refrigerator.  As I tried to explain this I saw a crafty grin on Mme. Harmonie.  She knew all these but trying to feed her words into my mouth.  I said ‘it would be different at later hours.’  Mme. Harmonie was adamant to trap me.  ‘But are you annoyed by the noise now?’  Seeing that she was not going to let up, I had to resort to shake my head slightly.  It was ‘no’, but I gave her no words to quote me later.   She was taken back in silence.

During the conversation pursued between Mme. Landlord and Mme. Harmonie, it was revealed the new owner of the restaurant had not been informed of the unauthorized ventilation pipe by neither Mr. Pride nor Mme. Empathy.  Mme. Harmonie had been deceived, but she was no way a victim by nature.   
To be continued.
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