I guess trouble first started shortly after we got our internet hooked up. [He] started spending more and more time online, and we rarely saw him outside of his room. I know that he was late a handful of times for work in April, and called in sick once, But he was good for his rent and bills. As far as chores went, none of us were very regular about getting them done, but J. and I were the only ones doing them by this point. He also failed to pitch in for groceries, ever. More on that later.Wow, I'm already seeing the pattern here. It took me about three-quarters of a month to get internet hooked up at my own place. While I do enjoy it, it never once was a major priority, like working and a job were. But the jerkwad always complained about the lack of internet, citing that it was I who was suffering withdrawal from it. Right... But wait, there's more!
In May he missed the phone bill, and that's when I started to suspect that he had been fired or quit his job at Boston Pizza's. Never did find out which it was, but [he] remained steadfast in his lie that he did have a job until I called the place pretending to be looking for him, then he changed his story to that he quit and was looking for work. (I realize that by now I should have realized that something was up, but that's another story.)This happened a lot. In fact, I'm fairly certain he had something like ten jobs. Ten fucking jobs! He's had more jobs in an eight month span than I have in my entire working career (mine being at seven jobs total for my entire working career, starting at thirteen and going onto the present). So, you can utterly describe this shit-tard as one of those people you see and wonder how the fuck it is that they have a job, only you find out they've been fired later on. He's got zero work ethic. But I guess I should just follow up with the rest of what my ex-roommates own ex-roomie has to say on the subject, all of it in its glory:
Things really heated up in June when he missed that month's rent. I was gathering up the rent on the first as I knew our landlord would be by to pick it up, he told me that she had said she wouldn't be by until tomorrow to pick it up. When she showed up a few hours later, he said his wallet had been lost or stolen. When we questioned what the square thing in his pocket was, he told us it was a book. (Again, more red flags, in retrospect I was rather naive to not see all of this unfolding.) Our landlord allowed him to pay his rent with next month's rent. Our Landlord was going on vacation at the end of the month, and instead of fussing around with all that, we offered to pay July's rent early. [He] was leaving for a trip [back home] shortly before the due date, so I pressed him to see if he'd taken care of the rent owing, "It's been dealt with," was his response, and trusting him, I left it at that. I found out on the collection day from [the landlord] that no, he hadn't paid a penny of the money owing. With him absent, there was little we could do about it, and [our landlord] decided to allow him yet another extension, with interest this time. He was to pay all money owing for rent on July 10th. I questioned him on the tenth to see if he'd paid it, he tried to shrug it off by saying "it had been taken care of." As I was slowly smartening up, I pressed him further, to which he said he'd "left a cheque in the mailbox." I left it at that as it was late, and phoned to verify the next day. Big surprise, no he hadn't left a cheque, and the landlord's husband had been around twice and called several more times with no answer. (I know that [he] was the only one home that day and he almost certainly -was- home.) That being the last straw, I told [him] if he wanted to stay, he had better pay up what he owed by the end of the month. His parents came and moved him one day a couple weeks later while I was at work. He moved back [home] and lived with his parents for a while. I attempted, through Emails, World of Warcraft, and phone calls to get a hold of him in order to try and get him to pay up. Eventually I just gave up. Throughout this entire time, he only ever once pitched in for groceries once, he rarely helped out with any of the few chores we had around the house, and I rarely, very rarely, saw him outside of his room unless he heard us cooking dinner, then he might come out to grab a bite. All in all, he left us pretty well screwed, much of the damage might have been avoided if I hadn't been in the mindset that "I've known him since high school, and while he's an ass, he wouldn't stab us in the back like this." I've given up on him and ever seeing that money he owes us, though I'd probably be interested in getting back in touch with him if I thought he would pay up.So, yeah, he's done it again. Same bullshit shenanigans, lies and craptacular antics as befit a grown-man-baby. But I guess I should also note that about a month, maybe two months in, my sister and I were talking about getting a second cat. Well, we didn't, but he did. The end result was that this cat had to be taken to the SPCA because he didn't, and wouldn't, take care of it or put in the iota of effort necessary to train it. I found it under a laundry hamper with a blanket overtop and a kettle weight on top to hold the animal in place while he was out. This happened probably on a number of occasions. His excuse when I asked him about this? His cat needed a time out... A several fucking hour time out. Well, thankfully, he's gone. His cat is in a better place, but still -- thanks for the good times, the bad times and the really bad times. I don't think I could put it as succinctly or even better than A.Y., "I've known him since high school, and while he's an ass, he wouldn't stab us in the back like this."