One of the things I never liked about my best friend Sha's business model was how he picks up rent. I never agree with wasting gas to go over and pick up rent from tenants. Mail is so much more convenient. The less a tenant and landlord see each other, the better the relationship usually is.
I had to pick up rent from Carver today. He had to wait for a specific cancer drug to be delivered to him for his girlfriend, Linda, who basically has terminal cancer. I knew that I was going to have to hear about Linda's condition for at least 10 minutes, but I really wanted the rent money and didn't want to wait for mail. He had only 400 of the $535 he owed for rent, so I got to charge him a late fee that he'll pay on the 26th.
Carver started talking about the horrors of Linda's ordeal, from the golf ball sized tumors in her liver to her inability to eat food and her declarations that she just wants to die. He mentioned some phrases that I remember, like fluorouracil, bleomycin, morphine, and L-pam among others. He talked about the difficulties of watching Linda go through the pain of terminal cancer and not being able to help her or take her home to die in peace.
My mind, however, was focused on the rent. I was happy that he couldn't pay all of the rent so that I'd get an extra 35 bucks next week! As much as I tried to care about what he was saying, I couldn't do it. I don't even know if I faked it well. The only thing that I found interesting was that both Linda and I got our illnesses at around the same time, I just treated mine first and didn't let it metasticize too much. Other than that, I really didn't care.
Linda will be dead in about two months, three tops. I liked Linda. When I first bought property Beta, she was there offering me food and making jokes about my age. She would always give me hugs and it always felt weird, as if she was trying hard to be liked by everyone. In the end, I guess the world could use alot more Lindas than Rogers, but the hand has been dealt. I drove away wondering whether it was good or bad that I could only think about the extra $35 I'll be making this month thanks to Linda's cancer.
On the one hand, landlords aren't supposed to care about tenants. Landlords are hated for this reason, but it's a business. Will the bank give a shit if I call them and say that I can't pay the mortgage because of chemo treatments? Certainly not. In this aspect, I'm becoming a better businessman. On the other hand, a seemingly good woman that I've met on several occasions is dying a wretched miserable death. Shouldn't there be something in me that feels anything for her as a fellow human being? I guess being a sociopath has its good and bad, and I'll leave it at that for now. No matter what happens, an extra 35 bucks is nothing to sneeze at.
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