true confessions from a serial housemate

from issue 12: by Jo Clay

My name is Jo and I am a serial housemate.

I am not talking about reality television. I am talking about life. At last count I have had seventeen housemates in three different countries. Many have been good friends. Some have become my second family (the fake Brady Bunch kind, not the actual family that led to me choosing group housing in the first place).

I have loved my housemates.

Even the kooky American who did not understand gravity and had me explain, with the aid of an orange and some basic physics, why we Aussies didn’t ‘fall off’. Even the guy who, when he didn’t want to talk to me, would throw a ball of string down the hall and tell me to go and chase it. Even the woman who made chilli con carne with a family block of chocolate and mashed potatoes with sultanas. Even the boyfriend who told me he didn’t believe in bread and would not allow it in the house.

Yes, I have loved them all. But this year I met a new challenge. This year I have lived with a Somewhat Nutty Overbearing Tyrant (SNOT).

I realise I am lucky to have encountered only one SNOT in my long experience. Friends of mine have lived with people who have stolen their shampoo and topped it up with water, people who have fled the law and their group house debts and people who don’t believe in taking out the rubbish until the maggots get aggressive. So I was probably due for a bad housemate.

How did I end up with this particular SNOT?

In January, I was sharing a house with a Fantastic Woman. I would call her the sister I never had, but having started out with a Brady Bunch analogy consistency requires I stick with it, and there’s not one Brady that I’d like to be related to. So I’ll just call her the Fantastic Woman (FW).

FW and I lived together happily for three years. We shared a passion for beer, good food and Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns. Eventually, we moved into our dream pad.

One week later, her boyfriend proposed.

Not that I’m bitter. Not that I resent the fact that he didn’t tip me off. And not that I think, given that her father lived elsewhere, the boyfriend should have sought my permission first. It has been pointed out to me that if I were to suggest any of these things, I would start to sound like a SNOT myself.

I digress.

I once again found myself on the hunt for a place to call home, which is how I ended up living with the SNOT. The situation started out innocuously. She was an old friend who had a great rent deal in a nice house. Having lived on her own for years, she now wanted a flatmate. She arranged with the landlords for me to move in.

The SNOT had her own quirks. She wanted things to be very, very clean. All the time. She liked the cushions on the couch and the collection of remote controls on the coffee table to be placed, rather than scattered. She would promptly rearrange both cushions and remotes if they were placed incorrectly. She made an aesthetic ruling against fridge magnets. And she liked her own furniture so much that all mine went straight into the shed.

For a short-term lease with a sweet rent deal, this was fine. However, four months after moving in, the SNOT informed me that she was unhappy. The announcement came suddenly one Sunday night. There were no lead-up discussions about different dishwasher-loading styles, conflicting television schedules or whose turn it was to buy milk. She simply announced that she had been unhappy for some time and had come up with the only solution. I had to leave.

Given that I had moved seven times in the previous three years, and the lease itself was expiring in three months in any case, this was not welcome information.

I made a few attempts to find out why the situation was not to the SNOT’s liking. I suggested different ways that we could do things. I became so concerned at her insistence that I leave without giving me any reason that I checked with FW’s psychiatrist father about whether the SNOT’s behaviour might be explained by a psychiatric condition and whether she could be a danger to herself. His view was that no, there was unlikely to be a medical explanation, she was simply being a SNOT.

The SNOT then told me I had two weeks to clear out. I toyed with the idea of embarking upon a campaign of terror. Visions of intentionally rearranging the cushions seduced me. I fantasised about leaving my dirty dishes on the sink for a whole night! But, instead, I turned to my rights before the law.

Because the tenancy was short and I knew both the SNOT and the landlords, I had not insisted upon a written tenancy agreement when I moved in. Fortunately, I discovered that the law protected stupid, trusting folk like me. I had a look at my local tenancy legislation and found that a written tenancy agreement is not a prerequisite to securing your rights.

I contacted my local tenancy advice line. They confirmed that I was either a sub-tenant or co-tenant and that my flatmate had no legal authority to order me out as she had. I then let my flatmate know that I had no intention of leaving. Eventually, she decided that she would move instead. The landlords have now issued proper notice for the lease to end, at a time that suits me better and minimises my moving expenses.

In retrospect, I believe that the SNOT had watched too many episodes of Big Brother and honestly thought that she could evict me because she didn’t like me anymore. She may even have initiated an SMS poll, I don’t know. I should have insisted that we watch Buffy reruns more often.

I am going to set out a few ways to deal with or avoid a SNOT or landlord. I speak from my own failings when I say this, but make sure you have a written tenancy agreement. You will have legal rights without a written agreement, but it is simpler to understand and hold others to these rights if they are set out in a document that everyone has signed. You may also find that your landlord or flatmates will argue that you are not a ‘tenant’ if you have not signed an agreement. While I managed to prove that I was a tenant, it took time and effort to do so.

Of course, never sign a tenancy agreement if you don’t agree with its terms. If there are terms that you don’t want included, consider striking them out of the agreement or raising them with the agent or landlord. If you sign an agreement, you may be bound by its terms regardless of the rights granted to you under local tenancy law. It will depend on the exact contents of that law and your agreement.

If you find yourself in a difficult situation, get advice. You can contact a lawyer or a specialist tenancy advice service. A few services are listed on page 32. And, remember, tenancy law and proceedings are usually set up to ensure that unrepresented parties have a fair go.

Think about what you stand to lose if it all goes wrong. For instance, do your housemates or landlords owe you money? Would you be prepared to pursue these debts in the Small Claims Court or is there a better way to resolve your problem? If you can’t deal with a share house situation, get out of the communal kitchen and find a place on your own. Or move back in with your mother. She knows how to deal with you.

Of course, at some stage you may decide that it is time to buy a house of your own. My recent experience has convinced me that this is what I should do.

Watch this space for amusing tales of how home ownership can go horribly wrong.