Edward Rose and Sons: How Not To Run A Business aka Go fuck yourselves to death and then in hell continue to fuck yourselves to death, and then when the Messiah comes and frees everyone in hell, continue to fuck yourselves to death over and over again in heaven for all eternity.

It was going to be the nicest place we ever lived. Three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths. Wood laminate floors, stainless steel appliances, a fully finished basement. It was going to be.

It was going to be in August. Our application, including the paperwork for our ESAs, was approved in late June, but due to some refurbishments being done, the move-in date of August 7th seemed reasonable. Due to delays in materials, August 7th turned into August 14th. Then September 7th. Then September 21st. Luckily, our current landlords hadn’t found anyone to take the house yet, so we weren’t homeless.

Every time move-in day approached, we scheduled the electric to be turned over. We changed our renters’ insurance. We rented a U-Haul. Once, our move-in date was canceled four days in advance. I thought this was short notice, so when the September date approached, I called and checked with the office: are you sure this time? Is everything on schedule? Is all of our paperwork in order? The answer I got was yes, of course, everything is on schedule. We could sign the lease officially on the morning we moved in.

Move-in day arrived. Once again, the electric was switched over. The renter’s insurance was switched over. The U-Haul was waiting for us. But the lease never materialized in the online portal. I called the office. They were really sorry, but the person I’d spoken to had given me the wrong information. The unit wouldn’t be available until October 21st.

I stuck with it. This place was perfect; literally, right across the street from where Mr. Jen works. On the bus line, so our son, who doesn’t drive, could have a job and independence. So many of my friends live in the city. I would have been within walking distance of the theater. My office would have been three times the size of my current one, with plenty of room and privacy. I could wait, because this unit was perfect. It was exactly what we needed. It would be worth the headache, I promised myself. We just had to hold on.

Last week, they called to give us the good news: the unit was ready a few days early. We could sign the lease and move in on October 17th. Once again, I asked: and everything is in order? All of our paperwork? Do you need anything else from us?

Today is finally move-in day. Everything was approved. All the paperwork was in order. We picked up the truck. The insurance was switched over. The electricity was, once again, switched over. Today is finally move-in day. We were getting a new life. We were getting out of the sticks. It’s today.

We were in the driveway. Mr. Jen had just parked the U-Haul.

Edward Rose and Sons called. They were very sorry. They made a mistake on the paperwork. We could still sign a lease today and move in… but our dogs, registered as ESAs, originally approved by management, couldn’t come with us.

Our ESA paperwork hadn’t actually been approved by management. They’re really, really sorry, but the dogs just can’t move in until they’re approved. Maybe we could move in and then see if management will approve them, but there was still a chance that, after move-in, they would be rejected.

The thing is, I know the dogs have to be approved. There is no maybe. They’re registered as ESAs. By law in my state, any landlord whose property has four or more units has to accommodate ESAs. They could have rejected our overall application, but they didn’t. They approved us, and the animals. They took a holding fee (which they are refunding). They insisted, multiple times, that they were fine with our animals and that all the paperwork was in order. They made repeated promises that we were approved.

They violated the Fair Housing Act, and they did it the morning of our expected move-in. They let us spend money, time, eat off of paper plates for two months and live in a labyrinth of moving boxes. We have been effectively camping for two months. Instead of being exhausted from a move, today I will be exhausted from unpacking in reverse. Putting items back into boxes we paid for, sealed with tape we paid for, stuffed with bubble wrap we paid for. We’ll be returning the truck (non-refundable, with miles already on it that we’ll pay for) after we empty out the storage facility we rented (for three months longer than anticipated).

We are heartbroken. We are tired. We can’t look for anything else because what’s the point? Nearly everything that fits our needs in Kalamazoo is owned by Edward Rose and Sons. We’re staying where we are, miles from everything. Isolated, alone, and heading into the worst time of the year for me. I will spend the winter in my dark little office, trying not to be bitter.

And hopefully, we’ll be engaged in a lawsuit that will prevent Edward Rose and Sons from making these “paperwork mistakes” ever again.