The Buckwell and I have just sold our flat. We made a reasonable sum of money on it. This got me thinking about whether money really can buy happiness. Certainly for me, the moment I saw the bank account balloon was a source of great excitement. But that excitement fizzled out about as quickly as a cheap Catherine Wheel.
The letter from the property lawyers turned up, giving the breakdown of the whole transaction. So in my practical, skeptical way I went through it, item by item. And one item I didn't like the look of. For some reason, we have been charged rent payable of £230.49. Quoi? We've had a lot of trouble with our solicitors; they've been generally hopeless. But I will refrain from mentioning the name of the firm thus far, until the Buckwell chases the discrepancy up tomorrow.
In the meantime, I have been stewing over it in my head, mentally scripting the complaint letter and scheming to garner as much negative publicity for them as I can. After all, nobody rips me off and gets away with it. Well, that is unless you are a papyrus seller in Cairo, a camel driver hawking rides around the Pyramids, a carpet seller in Aleppo, a spice seller in Marrakech, a jewellery merchant in Sousse, or a furniture transport company in Denmark. (But I'll get them back too, eventually.)
My, I do sound like a vengeful sort.
Money doesn't buy happiness, but losing it can mean unhappiness. Particularly when you lose it through property lawyers with no concept of customer service. Hmmm, perhaps service is the real issue here? After all, with the benefit of distance, I actually have rather fond memories of some of the other cons.
But I have decided that it's time to put a stop to it. My mission is to not fall for any more cons in 2008.
Have a happy new year.
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