Mr. Bickers

I owned a building in a rough area of Newark. A 12 unit brick building from the 1930’s. Beautiful back in the day. Of course years of disinvestment took their toll. Anyway, one tenant Mr. Bickers was always complaining he was cold.

“I’m cooooooooooooooooooooooooooold. I pays my rent.”

Mr. Bickers was from the Caribbean, but now he’s living in the Northeastern United States. Anyway, after several complaints, and after my Super repeatedly checked and verified that he had adequate heat, I decided to go down there in person. I jumped in my car and drove the 25 minutes or so to get there. I rang his bell, and Mr. Bickers answered the door in boxer shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Period. Seriously. Oh, did I mention it was February? In the Northeastern Untied States?

“I’m cold.”
“You’re naked.”

I entered to find that the apartment was about 68 degrees. He said there was no heat in the bedroom. I went to check the radiator (steam) to make sure the air valve was good, it was tilted properly and that the inlet valve was fully open. They were. He had a pile of clothes drying on the radiator.

I told Mr. Bickers to put on some pants, socks and a sweatshirt. Take the clothes off the radiator and not to call me for heat complaints anymore.