Monday, 25 March 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 71

A weird thing happened two weeks ago.  Mme. Landlord who had sold her apartment was seen wondering in the garbage room of the building.  Of course, I nearly screamed.  What is it with this woman and her obsession with the garbage?  I have heard that the French people are not big on cleanness, but this still felt extreme.  It gave me a shudder when she looked at me and smiled a little, as if she had run into an old friend.  This was the woman who sent an abusive slander about me to everyone in the building last month.  What did she expect from me?

I returned her greeting politely but coldly and walked past her without slowing down.  No more the usual and well-known Japanese warm smile.  I am a traditional Japanese woman who would tolerate condescension, selfishness, impoliteness, what have you, for a very long time, but once we have burnt the bridge, you do not exist to us.  I am not morally above revenge, but mere breathing of the same air with the disappointing person makes me sick that renders me incapable of revenge.  I prefer to leave it up to the God or the fate.

As I closed my door on her I sensed she was bordering on Alzheimer’s disease…and loneliness.  Now that I know Mme. Landlord is a pathological liar, all her talks about having a great relationship with her family may have been all sham.  Why else would Mme Landlord not have more important thing to do other than checking up the garbage room of the building that she no longer lived nor owned an apartment?  She would have made a mother-in-law from Hell that no wife in her right mind could tolerate her officiousness.  Looking back when I moved into this building every tenant described Mme. Landlord as a heartless witch.  If it had not been for the restaurant from Hell, I would have seen her through a lot sooner.  Her loneliness is due to her own doings thus she deserves no sympathy.  Ironically it may have been easier for her had I opted for a revenge because it would have put me in contact with Mme. Landlord.  It would have dissipated her loneliness. 

Instead, Mme. Landlord is deluded by her vain hope that she may still financially benefit from my submissiveness.  I did not opt for a revenge thus I must be still pliable, she believes.  She has even written to me that ‘she still believes that I do not mean to revel against her.’  I had a hunch that this greedy demented woman would keep showing up in the building like a wondering ghost hoping to ignite my former generosity towards her.  

She did indeed return for the second time last week, checking every nook of the building she could access.  And yes, we came across each other in front of my door.  She smiled again while I kept a stone face and ignored her again because she does not exist any more.  At my every rejection the greedy woman will feel her thirst un-quenched and burn by the amount of benefit she believes she should enjoy but have missed out.  It is the worst kind of Hell for an avaricious soul like hers and I did not lift a finger to create it.  She walked herself into it.  She may hope that I would buckle one day.  Never underestimate the resolve of the Japanese, particularly the samurai descendants, no matter how easy it was to push us around initially.

To be continued.
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Friday, 8 February 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 70

I was making a move back from Japan to Paris last weekend thus I could not update my blog.  Today I am going to make it up by writing a fairly long post.

As always the writer Christopher commented that ‘compensation junkie’ would be stopped one day.  That is very likely on an individual level and the family level.  Even the company taken over by compensation junkies may be stopped albeit it will be more difficult.  However, when the plague spread nationwide…the history tells us it has happened several times, other nations will seize the opportunity to invade a self-weaken nation whose people have lost the will to endeavour.  Why would you want to be industrious when a bunch of social moochers are fed free while increasing your burden to support the system?  As a history buff, I read books and articles and found several traits that were common among those compensation junkies: 

1)     They bend to the powerhouse like USA or the Great China.  However, to the less threatening people or nations, they become condescending and painfully discriminating.
2)     They would not fight their own battles.  They prefer to abet the powerhouse or whoever that would buy into their victim elaboration to do the dirty jobs.
3)     No respect for women.  Human trafficking by her own father was rife at a time in the history.  Far from fighting to protect their own women, they used women as their currency against the invaders.
4)     Very thin skin.  Over every trivial point their manly but fragile pride is wounded, followed by of course more compensation demands.
5)     To conceal the fact that they never took time to work on anything diligently they would claim that their inventions got stolen.
6)     Their own talent would die without ever being tapped in.  It is so much easier to rob the credits from others.

The last trait may be the saddest thing because the world will never know of some beautiful gifts the God has given to the mankind.  I may not be much gifted despite the kind encouragement by the author Chris who likes his book cover that I drew (He is a polite man) but, I wish to spend time on my drawing instead of pursuing Mr Pride for compensation.  Also, I have my mother to look after.  Focusing on her happiness is a much productive way to spend our limited time.  

I live above a Hell.  I nearly was killed off in an electricity accident staged by the restaurant from Hell, but the last few years in Paris has been the most intense period of my life, seeing things that only one would see in

To be continued.
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Wednesday, 30 January 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 69

I am grateful for the encouragement I received that I may deserve compensation from Mr. Pride.  I too would agree that children and the adults whose ability to rebuild their lives was destroyed should be compensated.  However, I have also witnessed the curse of ‘compensation’ on several occasions.

One was this man I met through his grandmother in Sydney, Australia.  As he entered the door a certain heaviness spread into the room. He smiled repeatedly, but meaninglessly which put me on guard rather than feeling warmed by it.  He was frequently hanging around at his grandmother’s place during the daytime without a proper job.  He dressed youngish but on a closer look you would notice wrinkles on his face.  In short, something about him was not right.  His left arm was temporary immobile for he just came out from an accident.  ‘Of course, he needs to be compensated’, said his grandmother.  Peculiar thing was that it was his third accident which seemed to have happened recurrently.  Each time he was paid compensation which enabled him to buy a house despite he was merely a wanna-be-musician surviving on odd jobs, mostly delivery jobs on a bike.  You would think he would be deterred from a job that would expose him to traffic after so many road accidents.  But no, this man just smiled saying, ‘it’ll be all right.’  As I looked into his eyes which was neither innocent nor courageous I felt nauseated.

A year later this man had his fourth road accident, this time injuring his neck.  His grandmother was naturally shaken but as I heard the news I was remembering that this wanna-be-musician had just gotten his long awaited gig cancelled.  Considering his age, it would have been very hard to land another gig.  He was of course filing a lawsuit for a fat compensation.  I may have been wrong to assume that he had become a compensation-junkie, but it is safe to conclude that his music career suffered from his false sense of financial security provided by the compensation money which amounted to more than a person could have earned in a life time.  It deprived him of the sense of alertness that all great musicians have. Drop-dead aura thrives on a sharp mind.  Our Mr. Compensation may possibly have been gifted, but his sense was rendered dull by the choices he made in life.  His grandmother told me that during his first accident he incurred a minor injury, but the level of his damage stepped up with the accidents that followed.  The fourth one damaged his nerve system that he would suffer a certain condition for the rest of his life.  Mr. Compensation became eligible for a welfare payout as well.  There are always women who are drawn to the helplessness of a victim of the circumstances.  As you might guess it, our Mr. Compensation married a woman whose father had money.

You might say, ‘well, Mr. Compensation’s case is unique’, but sadly, the attitude of Mr. Compensation appears to be contagious because we often read of families that take advantage of the welfare.  The curse of compensation escalates to take on a company, then a community and then…

To be continued.

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Monday, 26 November 2018

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 68

Miss Harmonie will be categorized into predator as she bulldozes her way.  She applied the similar attitude with her own chef and the good one quitted.  She was not attracting clients fast enough during the regular dining hours that Mme. Harmonie opted to extend it to midnight.  For this she should have applied for a Service Continu license that allows long hours.  It would cost her money and never the one to play by book, Mme. Harmonie avoided the problem by announcing the new late opening hours on the social media site only.  Decent restaurants would be upfront about it on their menu on their windows, but not Mme. Harmonie.  

Now, it is universally acquiesced that food is mediocre at the long hour bar-restaurants.  People may have thought that the restaurant from Hell had to open late because they could not attract serious diners who would sit down for three courses meals during the regular hours.  Mme. Harmonie used her media connection and obtained many good reviews, but it did not boost the number of serious diners.  Soon, the restaurant from Hell opted to tapas-style, offering small dishes to share among friends.  This increased the number of late diners, while lowering the average consumption of each client.  It would have worked in a small eatery but the restaurant from Hell had a large dining area in the most expensive part of Paris.  The expensive rent would still have to be paid. 

Next thing, she started to serve brunch on Sundays too.  Less respite from their kitchen noise for me, but she would not even think about an insignificant Asian migrant with no voice.   She got what she wanted.  However, this arrangement backfired because her second chef was not paid enough for the long hours.   He walked out.  He was followed by a Mexican food chef who flaunted an exotic waitress in revealing dress.  Mme. Harmonie was an amateur after all to think this would work in the historical and classy Le Marais.

For reasons I do not know, the restaurant was suspended for months and subsequently sold.  She only had herself to blame.  Not me, because I had accepted all her terms.

To be continued.

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Sunday, 11 November 2018

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 67

I started looking for a new apartment, but suddenly Mme. Landlord sold the apartment I was living to one Italian couple.  They were seeking investment properties and it suited them that a tenant (me)  was already there.   I had had enough of the restaurant from Hell, but one decisive factor was that I would not need to report the change of address to the French Government.  In order to extend my visa, continuity was considered important.  Besides I had already invested in insulation materials, I might as well stay.  

I could not update my blog last week because of the pain in my wrist.  It is healing slowly, but the pain returns whenever I stress it.  But my mind was busy analyzing each harmonious character in my true horror stories in this modern Paris.  Let me start with Mme. Landlord, the ruthless whipper of the weak while pretending to be their saviour.  How does such a personality develop?

The clue may be in the fact that she was not a born Parisian.  Every city has a hierarchy that consists of the in-crowds that were born with the non-coded priority over those who joined the city from elsewhere.   Mme. Landlord often spoke proudly of her birthplace, but her eyes betrayed her words.  She chose not to return to her birthplace which speaks the truth.  The late joiners of the city struggle to secure their place unless blessed with a tolerable wealth or some kind of accomplishments.  Did Mme. Landlord have any of them?  A daughter from a decent family would not grow up to be a scavenger of garbage rooms.  Her sense of hygiene did not revolt against bringing a discarded mattress (run over by mouses) into her bedroom.   Then how would an ambitious woman with no advantages navigate herself in a city?  How would she climb up the social ladder?

By pretending to possess what the rich and the successful are stereotyped to be lacking it.  Empathy.  No other virtue has been more abused because you can pretend to have it while regular accomplishment requires a lot of hard work or even financial expenses.  Mme. Landlord boasted of her volunteer works, boasted of getting involved in many good causes.  It left unpleasant aftertaste that she would demand recognition or gratitude each time, unlike my acquaintances in Japan who had kept quiet about their volunteer works until I accidentally found out.  However, her tactics must have worked for Mme. Landlord because she managed to gain respect as a moral leader who became equal to the rich and the successful among the circle which she had insinuated herself into.  But there was one person who was not fooled.  Herself.

Not naturally empathetic nor generous, her life-long acting would naturally take its toll on her.  She vented her frustration on the weak whose voice would not be heard.  She was all smile to an aristocrat gentleman while writing slander about him in her emails to me. I have written in one of my updates about the night when I was made to move her bulky furniture.  It was not an isolated episode, of course, and one day she made me move another piece of her bulky furniture during the daytime.  She came along to give me instructions, so I would not damage her old furniture, which was not precious enough for her to pay the taxi fares for.  What was the point of having migrants around if you could not use them for free labour?

A couple of French women were chatting on the street.  I had to stop because there was no room on the narrow street of Paris.  I was about to politely ask them to let me pass when Mme. Landlord hurled some abusive comments to the women.  Even I could understand the part ‘people have lost manner to make space for others in Paris!’  The two women looked hurt more than offended and said something softly in French as they stepped aside.  I felt compelled to apologize to the French women for the rude behavior of Mme. Landlord while she walked past them triumphantly.    

Is she part of the elegant Parisian tapestry?  I think not.

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