***
Darrell and his dad returned later that night. Jack had bought Darrell a bunch of new furniture and they had moved it into the new apartment, into the bedroom. There was no excuse, no apology, no nothing. It was blatant thievery, plain and simple. Lying, stealing, and manipulating were things this family was accustomed to doing in order to get what they wanted. My disdain for both of them continued to grow week after week. This was the beginning of the end.
C H A P T E R
T E N
Business was starting to pick up. In a few short weeks we made a couple thousand dollars doing odd jobs. All the cheques were deposited into a bank account Darrell and his dad had opened, which for some reason I did not have access to. My initial reaction was how most people would react. I felt it was a little sneaky to go behind my back and open up an account where one partner doesn’t have access.
Mr. Channing told me I was just being paranoid and they would eventually add me to the account. He said it was just easier for a father and son to open up a business account. The fact that it was coming from Mr. Channing did nothing to reassure me. The man was a manipulator; I had watched him manipulate others countless times and then brag to us afterwards about his abilities. I decided to let it go and allow him to think he had pulled the wool over my eyes. That way, he would be unaware that I was still watching him and his son closely.
Aside from the bank account issue and the apartment issue, there were many other personality conflicts that were difficult to ignore. For starters, Darrell was the most selfish and inconsiderate person I had ever met. A prime example of this was when we were at a nightclub once and Darrell received a call on his cell phone. Rather than going somewhere quiet to take the call, Darrell demanded the DJ turn the music down so he could hear. I guess it was just how he was raised; he did not care about anyone but himself – an impossible trait to deal with in a business partnership.
Over a short amount of time, the rift between us began to grow. There was also a lot of tension on the jobs; we hardly spoke to each other at all. When we did, it was a lot of arguing and ego clashing. Darrell had it in his mind that he was this big shot boss and I was his employee. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, I was more like the boss, and Darrell was my employee, but I never thought of it in terms of that. It was a partnership, albeit an inherently flawed partnership. We were like two generals, and neither one of us wanted to submit to the other.
At the end of each long day, we would come home and not say a word to each other.
One night, while Darrell was in the shower, I went into his room and looked for the bank statement for the company account. His room was filthy; there were clothes and papers all over the floor, and he had dirty dishes lying around that looked like they had been there for weeks. I found a stack of mail underneath his futon bed and found what I was looking for. Immediately, I noticed large cash withdrawals and several other charges coming from the company account.
I waited until he came out of the shower before I confronted him. The whole time, my contempt grew. When he came out, I exploded on him.
“Darrell, what is this?” I demanded as I held up the bank statement.
“What are you talking about, dude?” he asked, obviously playing dumb.
“Explain to me why I’m paying for you to eat out at fast food restaurants, get haircuts, and pay for your cell phone bill? I have yet to see a dime of the money that we earned and you’re out spending it like it’s your own personal expense account.”
“Those are all business expenses. I needed a haircut to look professional, I need to eat to do the physical work, and I need a cell phone to stay in touch.”
I wasn’t sure if these were excuses he had just came up with or if they were justifications which he believed to be true.
“The phone is for company use only and you’re using it for your own personal use. You can’t expect me to pay for that.”
“It’s a company expense, we can just write it off.”
“What are you talking about? Do you even know what that means?” I asked, confused.
“Fine, just take it out of my half of the money then.”
“Okay, when am I going to see my half?” I said, as I threw the stack of papers on the floor.
“Dude, just relax.”
I looked down at the mess of papers and saw one other letter that piqued my interest. It had a large red stamp on the front that read: ‘EVICTION NOTICE’. I bent down and picked it up. I quickly read the first few lines.
“What’s this?” I said confused. I continued to read. “It says here we need to be out by the 14th. That’s in two days, Darrell. When were you going to tell me about this!” I yelled, completely losing my temper.
“I don’t know, I guess I forgot.”
I took a deep breath and restrained myself from ripping his head off.
I continued to read:
‘Dear Mr. Morrison and Mr. Channing,
This notice is to advise you that you are to vacate the property as of June 14th due to ongoing noise complaints from tenants. We have made several attempts to warn you about playing excessively loud music and each warning appears to have been ignored.’
I looked up at the date in the top corner. It was dated from over a month ago. Did he really just forget or was he trying to screw me over?
My mind was racing. I needed to think clearly for a moment. All I could think about was how this loser dragged me into his world. What made matters worse, I didn’t even own a stereo. Darrell was the one always blasting his music, not me. I told him this would happen.
I went to my ‘room’ and sat on the edge of my bed. I needed a plan. Everything was happening so quickly. The business was falling apart and I could not imagine things ever working out between us. Now I was being evicted and I needed to find a new place in less than two days. Darrell would probably just move back in with his dad and leave me out to dry. The worst-case scenario for me, I could move my stuff into a 24-hour storage facility and sleep in a youth hostel until I found a more permanent residence. If I could help it, I never wanted to see Darrell again.
The Art of the Hustle Page 12