Additionally, we found that items that we assumed belonged to your family had not been removed or stored prior to our visit. There were clothes in closets and drawers, along with children's toys and boogie boards and home maintenance items such as paint [and] varnish cans. There was a full laundry basket of unfolded towels and dirty clothes in the laundry room, as well as dozens of household items stored untidily under the kitchen sink and in the laundry room, not to mention an empty container of Tide cleaning detergent.
As our first 24 hours in the house progressed, we realized that there were several essential appliances that simply did not work, including:
* the refrigerator and freezer. While we were able to maintain the refrigerator portion somewhat cool by turning the cooling dial to its maximum level, the freezer did not work at all.
* the dishwasher. We loaded it to capacity Sunday night and Monday morning after our initial meals, added detergent and set it to run when we left for the beach Monday morning. Upon our return seven hours later, the dishwasher was still running. We had to unload the dishwasher and wash all of the dishes, which were caked with dried soap.
* the toaster. The manual "pop-up" latch was broken, which required two of us to jury-rig a method for getting the toast out before it overcooked by turning down the "light/dark" knob and pulling forcefully up on the toasting lever. My husband and I sustained several small burns on our fore and middle fingers, since we were too embarrassed to let anyone else use the toaster.
Additionally, there were several areas of the house in serious need of repair:
* The ceiling in the first floor bathroom had an obvious plaster patch over the toilet. On Monday evening, that patch fell through, scattering plaster dust and ceiling pieces around the toilet and bathroom floor. Throughout the week, small bits of plaster and drops of water fell into the bathroom.
* The bathtub faucet in the first floor bathroom leaked a continuous stream of very hot water into the tub and had corroded right through the faucet itself. Both the tub and faucet were rusted badly. We came to the determination that this constant hot water leak must have been a contributing factor to the complete shortage of hot water for showers; when ten of us returned from the beach and wanted to clean up, only two of us could do so with even reasonably warm water.
* While there were three screen doors out onto the deck and one in each of the first floor bedrooms, one screen door in the living room was completely blocked by the location of the television set, while the other two, as well as the one from the bedroom to the back deck, came off in our hands upon our first exit from the house. We set them back on their tracks, but were forced to "repair" them constantly throughout the week in order to use the deck at all.
* One of the benches to the outdoor picnic table was split through. We did not use it for obvious safety reasons. Having to drag kitchen chairs outside in order to be able to eat as a group outside was a huge inconvenience.
* The "downstairs apartment" was a disaster. Not only did we feel that it was seriously misrepresented (detailed below), it was musty and buggy. The dehumidifier which was running down there was clearly inadequate, and the decision to run the dehumidifier hose into the downstairs shower stall made the shower dirty and unusable.
Finally, we felt that there were some serious misrepresentations in both your online description of the house, and in the conversations that you and I had prior to our decision to rent the house for the week:
* As mentioned, the basement was a disaster. When you and I spoke, I expressed reservations about bedrooms in "a basement." Your response was (which I wrote down at the time to pass on to our friends involved in the rental with us) "It's not so much a basement as a first floor and it also has a separate entrance." Mr. Handler, an underground room with no windows is definitely what I would consider to be a "basement." While furnished comfortably, the downstairs rooms were dark and dank, very musty and extremely buggy. Your response when my husband expressed concerns on the telephone about the mustiness in the basement was to prop open the outside door for a few hours; that resulted in even more bugs, as well as unraked leaves being blown in all over the floor. Having to spray our children with bug spray from head to toe in order for them to go to bed seems more than ridiculous; having to shake all of their clothing, towels and bedding to remove spiders and earwigs before packing to go home is outrageous.
* Also, never did we imagine that the "separate entrance" was the ONLY entrance to that floor. Even an actual basement can usually be accessed from inside the house. That said, if there were only an external entrance, one might expect lights on the path or at the door to facilitate going downstairs in the dark. We necessarily purchased flashlights for the kids just to help them find their way down there to go to bed.
* The upstairs "queen bedroom" (which has a full-size mattress on the bed, by the way) had no fourth wall or door. As my husband described it, "it was like sleeping in the hallway." We had no privacy and were unable to let the teen-agers stay up late upstairs in the living room to watch TV or play video games because of the openness of that bedroom to the downstairs level.
* We were never sure of the appropriate path to "our beach." There were no clarifying directions at the house and your description on the telephone of using the path "on the left" led us either to your neighbor's gate or a different neighbor's lawn. When we followed the path through the open lawn, we found a beach filled with boats--clearly not a private beach that went with the house. There were several docks there as well (which would have been a better alternative for sitting down at the bay than the small beach next to the wetlands, which was extremely buggy), but we determined them all to belong to other houses.
* Our experience has been that a house intended to "sleep 12" would also provide accommodations to "feed 12." Our intention in renting the house together was to enable us to spend time together and socialize. There was no table or space in the house that would allow us to all eat a meal together. We moved furniture, brought chairs up from the basement and, once again, "jury-rigged" a solution, but it was a huge inconvenience and was a factor, along with the lack of refrigeration, that led to us choosing to eat out much more than we normally would have during our vacation week.
As you might imagine, Mr. Handler, after wading through three pages of complaints and concerns, we were extremely disappointed in our experience in renting your house for our week on Martha's Vineyard. The fact that you were aware of the problem with the dishwasher and didn't inform us in any way, and that we made you aware of the refrigeration issue on Monday and you never contacted us with a repair plan, or at the very least an apology, is truly unacceptable. I have no idea how much experience you may have in renting out your home, but we have rented homes all over the Cape and Islands, New England, Florida, California and even in Europe over the past 25 years and have never had to deal with anything close to the inadequacies, misrepresentations and lack of information (trash pick-up?) that we endured last week.
Our original agreement stipulated that you would return the $500 security deposit we paid upon completion of the rental. Considering the fact that we left the house in much better condition than we found it, we would certainly anticipate the refund of that full amount. I would also respectfully request the refund of the $150 housekeeping fee, since there was no evidence of any housekeeping activities occurring prior to our arrival.
Finally, we strongly believe that you owe us a partial refund of the rent that we paid for the week, in compensation for the groceries we had brought with us (dairy products, luncheon meat, freezer items, fruit and vegetables, leftovers, etc.) that were lost due to inadequate refrigeration and freezer capabilities, the groceries that we had to purchase to replace these items and the innumerable bags of ice that were required to keep anything really cold at all. We also feel that a refund is due to compensate us for the huge inconveniences we experienced, from at least daily trips to Stop & Shop to replace food that had gone bad or to purchase for daily meals rather than being
able to do one "big shopping," to spending so much time cleaning up after your previous guests, to changing our plans to spend a good share of the day Tuesday dealing with the appliance repair shop. Since we paid $7,750 to rent the house for seven days, we feel that a refund of one full day's rental fee ($1,121 in addition to the $150 housekeeping fee and $500 security deposit) would be the least we would expect.
On behalf of your future tenants, I would urge you to pay immediate attention to these items that I have outlined--there are no families expecting an idyllic Martha's Vineyard vacation experience that would find the current conditions of your home to be acceptable. I also would hope that you would be more forthcoming on the set-up of the house and perhaps target smaller groups or families--the accommodations may be useable for your own family, but groups paying so dearly for the privilege of staying in an island home would expect, and certainly deserve, much more. We were extremely fortunate with the spectacular weather last week--I cannot imagine a 12-person group's experience at your home during a week of rain.
I look forward to receiving a refund check in the amount of $1,871, as detailed above, from you as soon as possible.
I picked up the phone and called Sloane. "This letter is ridiculous," I told her.
"I know, he's so humiliating."
"I can't believe this woman is only asking for her deposit and a day of the rental fee. Is she retarded?" I asked.
"I don't know, but her friends are probably never going to speak to her again for renting a house like that in the first place. She even mentioned it in the letter. Did you see that part?"
"Yes, I saw that part."
"You know, he tells everyone you're his daughter, and if they don't know who you are, he pulls out your books or tells them what time your show is on and also when it repeats."
"Oh, my God, I didn't even think of that. What a dick."
"Yup."
"Well then, you have to take down the online ads for the property. He can't continue to rent that house."
"I did, Chelsea!"
"Then how did he rent it? He doesn't know how to get online, and even if he did, his fingers are too fat to use a computer."
"He has some friend who owns a restaurant or something. Mario. I think he helps Dad."
"Who?"
"I don't know, Chelsea. Don't ask. Some weird Italian guy who thinks Dad is hilarious. It's very strange. I think he thinks Dad has money or something. I don't know what's going on there."
"What do you mean, 'what's going on there'? What do you think is going on?"
"Well, nothing sexual, if that's what you're getting at."
"What?"
"I know how your mind works, Chelsea."
"Really, Sloane? You think that I think Dad is sleeping with an Italian man?"
"I don't know."
"Sloane, shut up. I'm asking why Mario would be doing anything for Dad."
"Maybe Mario's the Jamaican cleaning lady's pimp," she speculated. "I have no idea. I tell you I think he thinks Dad has money."
"Who would think Dad has money? He wears house slippers to temple and has hair growing out of his eyes. Not to mention he drives a minivan that looks like the Rock of Love bus."
"Chelsea, he tells people about his homes and describes them using words like 'paradise' and 'ecstasy.' "
"Ew."
"If I were you, I would change my last name, because he's got more energy than ever, and I don't think he's going to die anytime soon."
"That's wonderful. Well, he has to reimburse this woman, and not only for her deposit. He needs to give her all her money back."
"He probably already spent it. He just borrowed another five thousand dollars from Ray, after he sat in my living room, ate an entire pizza, and told me I looked like I put on a few pounds."
"Oh, my God, what is wrong with you people? Why do you keep giving him money? He's never going to sell the Livingston house if you guys keep loaning him money."
"Ray told him that's the last time. Greg's going over there next week with a Realtor to talk about listing the property. He told Dad he has no money left, and we all have families to raise and that he is cut off monetarily from all of us."
"I'm calling Dad. I'll call you back."
"Don't tell him I e-mailed you that letter, Chelsea. He'll call me and yell at me--or worse, come over. He already has one of his cars in our driveway and is mad at me because I told him it was embarrassing and asked him to move it."
Sloane's kids were both screaming in the background without any reaction from her, so I hung up. I was disgusted with her lack of respect for herself and her driveway. I looked at Ted, who was shaking his head in disgust.
"Has anyone tried to talk to your father about the legal ramifications of renting a house that is in such disrepair?" Ted asked. "I mean, someone could hurt themselves and he could lose the entire property."
"No, Ted, no one has ever said anything to him about it," I said as I smacked the palm of my hand against the side of my forehead. "Of course we've told him! He's a giant fuckwad who thinks the whole world is out to get him. He doesn't listen to anyone, and he is not a reasonable person. We're dealing with a psychopath."
Ted couldn't grasp how my father couldn't be reasoned with. He grew up with parents who paid their bills on time, got their shots on time, and pinned his ears back to the sides of his head when he slept. My parents didn't even care if I had ears.
I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number, half hoping it would be disconnected.
"Is that you?" he answered, in the singsongy way he answers the phone every time I call, as if we are about to reminisce about all the amazing days of my childhood when I would get screamed at for not knowing the capital of Hungary.
"Yeah, it's me."
"How ya doing, love? I miss you."
"That's nice, but I just got a letter from one of your Vineyard rentals that is about three pages long detailing everything that was wrong in the house."
"Who?"
"You know who, Dad. A letter from the woman who brought twelve people to the Vineyard and nothing in the house worked." I looked at the letter on my computer. "A Mrs. Danziger."
"Oh, that woman. She needs a psychiatrist."
"No, Dad. You need a psychiatrist."
He chuckled at this. "That woman complained about everything. She was a pain in the tuchus when she called me on the phone to rent the property in the first place. I should have known then she was going to cause problems. She's a schoolteacher from West Virginia. West Virginia's got the highest delinquency rate in the country, Chels. Woman is obviously confused."
"Dad, the freezer and the refrigerator did not work. They had melted squid leaking out onto the kitchen floor, and the dishwasher was broken, and that's only the first paragraph."
"Chelsea, that squid I left for them was a welcoming gift. I had some extra left from a little barbecue I threw and thought it would be a nice gesture to leave it for them, and this is the response I get?" He followed that with a loud grunt and a cough that sounded like he was spitting up a chicken wing that had gone down the wrong pipe.
"What was that?"
"A rib, that's all," he declared, and was back to speaking clearly again. I looked at Ted, who was reading the Robb Report, then back at the letter.
"A barbecue you held? Since when do you throw barbecues? I thought you just eat at McDonald's every day."
"That's right."
"What's right?"
"Both are right, but there's no McDonald's on the Vineyard, so I had a couple of friends over."
To be very clear, my father has no friends, so when he says anything intimating that he does, I know more likely than not he is referring to one of his Jamaican girlfriends. None of my brothers and sisters can get an honest answer from him regarding his personal life, and, to be honest, we'd rather not know the details. We just know that he is very secretive, has a prescription for Cialis, and frequently has over young black Jamaican women who are supposedly "cleani
ng" and hide in the bathroom when someone drops by his house unannounced.
"Who would come to your barbecue?"
"What kind of question is that?" he asked, still in a jocular mood. He was enjoying our little conversation and didn't know it was about to go south fast.
"A pretty good one, if you ask me. You left all the food on the barbecue grill and didn't even clean it when you were done, and since when do you even know how to operate a barbecue, Dad? What are you even talking about?"
"Chelsea, darling, you are in such a precarious mood."
"Please don't call me darling. Actually, don't call me Chelsea either."
"Well, what would you suggest I call you, then?"
"Who were you up there with, and why didn't you have your little cleaning-lady girlfriend clean up your mess before you left?"
"I don't know what you're referring to, love, but I told the maids to come before I left, so if they didn't, then obviously they're unreliable. I don't see how I'm at fault."
I could tell from the inflection in his voice that he wasn't comprehending the seriousness of my mood. This had happened throughout my childhood, but with the roles reversed, with him chasing after me with whatever food item was closest to him.
"Listen up, fathead." I wanted to get to the point of the phone call and had to make up something that would force him to reimburse this woman's funds. "I just got a call from the Martha's Vineyard Times, and guess what they said?"
"What?"
"They said they're writing a story about the fact that Chelsea Handler's father, who owns property on the Vineyard, is misrepresenting his home to renters, even after several complaints that have been ignored by you, and they have the woman's letter, which they are planning on printing in full."
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