Group mentality in crime-The true horror stories in Paris part 28

My full profile, if it was ever disclosed, would reveal all sorts of minority groups starting with my gender and race. Throughout my life, I have been harassed on many levels, but I lacked the stomach and power to carry out revenge.  This was a blessing in disguise because retribution eventually manifested itself which inspired me to share on this blog.  I quote many others before me that ‘True horror is hidden within man'.


Miss GRATITUDE was not beautiful.  But Scarlet O’Hara she was not either.  But the two women shared a look of determination, not letting anyone get in her way.  Miss GRATITUDE was leaning against the wall, puffing out the smoke.  Mme. HARMONY frowned.  I too felt intimidated by this figure exerting power.  She had been successful in her career, but because of its unstable nature, Miss GRATITUDE opted to open a restaurant to fall back in the time of need.  What a disrespectful approach to this business.  If running a successful restaurant was that easy, everyone would win the Michelin star.  It takes talent, hard work, and decency.

Mme. HARMONY politely explained my situation, but Miss GRATITUDE cut her off and suggested checking the noise in my room.  But it was only 10:00 am in the morning and the restaurant was empty.  The kitchen was not in a full swing.  Thus, I hesitated, but Miss GRATITUDE insisted and marched into my apartment, closed the window without my permission, and told Mme. HARMONY that I should keep my windows closed all the time if the restaurant noise bothered me.   What? 

Mme. HARMONY hit back, ‘People have the right to enjoy fresh air from the opened windows!’  Unbelievable that a restaurant owner who serves food to the public should have little regard for the well-being of others.  Undaunted, Miss GRATITUDE turned to me in English demanding that I admit that the noise of the kitchen did not bother me.   I saw a crafty grin on her and sensed that she was feeding her words into my mouth to trap me.  I stopped making efforts in speaking French and replied in English that 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, etc. 

Miss. GRATITUDE was still adamant to trap me and condescendingly demanded ‘But are you annoyed by the noise now?’  Seeing that she was not going to let up, I had to resort to shaking my head slightly.  It was ‘no’, but I gave her no words to quote me later.   She was taken back.  Asians are not as stupid as she thought and I am not even the smarter one.  Then Mme. HARMONY pointed to the extractor attached to the wall of the next door building and spilled the beans which Mr. PRIDE had concealed from Miss GRATITUDE.  She was duly surprised that she had purchased a restaurant license that ran on the illegal ventilation system but firmly demanded that everyone agree to legalize the extractor.  With this, she marched away.  Her term of amicable relationship was ‘we agree to all her demands, but not vice versa.’   

Mme. HARMONY creased her face and spat ‘Do not expect HER 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 Miss GRATITUDE carried out noisy renovation work on weekends in this respective area of Paris where sensible people refrain from even doing washing on Sundays.  Miss GRATITUDE reminded me of Leila, my former neighbor from Hell.  Still, I was a tad surprised to detect classism in Mme. HARMONY's tone.  

Mirror that reflects your soul

Miss GRATITUDE soon blasted the building with disco beat music every night.  Had she bothered to obtain the costly bar license?   No, there was not yet a sticker of blue and red opal on the façade of her restaurant to show that it was a legitimate bar.   Miss GRATITUDE knew the stereo beats would penetrate my newly applied insulation materials, but she did not care.  She had even installed a stereo speaker near their kitchen below my bedroom to maximize the sound effect.  I could not call the police after Major B was gone.  I had to leave the building because it was getting too much.  

As I sat on a bench nearby I saw guests after guests walking into the restaurant.  One man I recognized.   It was Mr. SINCERE, brother of Mme. HEART.   Miss GRATITUDE welcomed him like a friend.  How is that possible?   And then I recognized more faces among the staff and realized with horror that they were the original members of Mme. HEART’s restaurant.  At some point, they quit and left, but now they had returned like zombies! 

Miss GRATITUDE finally closed the bar at midnight, so I rushed back home to google search.  The discovery was even more incredible.  Mr. Sincere was the leader of a group, of which identity I cannot disclose, but the staff of the restaurant was the same members terrorizing their neighbours of each restaurant managed by Mme. HEART and Mr. SINCERE in the past.  So, I was fighting against not an individual, but some organization!  If they had been around for many years, it meant that even the police could not touch them, probably because they were protected by…that man whose back loomed large in my mind.