The true horror stories in modern Paris part 51

You might wonder why I was not disappointed that Mme. Empathy did not get her uppercomance.  First, I had not expected any because this is not a movie, but a true story in the real life.  Secondly, it was all those men who had bent the rules and morality to indulge her ever since she could remember.  What young woman would not be affected by that?  What woman would even think of doing the right things or playing by the rules after such easy rides?  I have no sympathy for those men who ended up being trodden by her.  I was just sooooo grateful that I had survived the woman.  

The new owner, I shall call her Miss Harmony because she sent a letter to every resident and every landlord that she would like to talk and come to an amicable agreement.  No one replied, except me.  I felt sorry for the woman who had been lied to and invested her savings into this dodgy restaurant permit.  If she could agree to insulate the ceiling of the restaurant, I would have loved to make peace with Mr Pride for her sake.  With this high expectation, I went to meet the woman with Mme. Landlord. 

Miss Harmony was leaning against the wall, puffing out the smoke.  She agreed to check the noise in my room, but her tone worried me.  Miss Harmonie 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!’  I gasped that a restaurant owner who serves food to the public should have little regards to the well-being of others.  Undaunted, Miss Harmonie 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 were no clients in the restaurant.  There was only one chef and he was standing quietly in front of 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 shaking my head slightly.  It was ‘no’, but I gave her no words to quote me later.   She was taken back in silence.

She was condescending and her term of harmonious agreement was ‘we agree to all her demands, but not vice versa.’   later 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 a 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.  

Still, I was a tad surprised to detect classism in Mme. Landlord's tone.  

To be continued.