We had a dog and a cat for 2 1/2 years in our last apartment. I won't say there weren't any accidents as far as the carpet was concerned but we got our security deposit AND our $150 pet deposit back.

And they're supposed to put it an account and give you the interest, right?

My first place up here, they did that. (Last month's rent, which I paid them a year before I moved out, no interest, but the $250 security deposit earned me something like $1.33.) Since then I've paid first/last, butn ot a security deposit ever.

My desk was still here when I got back, which was a bit of a disappointment. However, the elevator ceiling looked like it had been used for some Alias-esque hijinks, so there's that.

I don't even remember what my security deposit was. It couldn't have been much because I had no money. Waiting for that first paycheck and all. Like money lent to friends, I consider it gone, despite the only issues being normal wear and tear of eep 8 years.

And they're supposed to put it an account and give you the interest, right? Have people found that that actually happens reliably?

I have to claim it on my taxes! So annoying. More annoying is that the bank's (HSBC) fee pretty much eats up the entire amount.

But I have a big landlord.

Management companies doing the interest things makes sense, but do all, er, non-company landlords do it? You know, the kind where there's this one guy you have to call five times to fix your faucet and he doesn't speak English real well so you don't talk to him more than necessary?

My landlord who did the interest thing for me was an Irish immigrant couple with hyperactive toddler twins. So, yeah. Although apparently they sold the house to the new landlord (young daughter of Chinese immigrants), and forked over my security deposit to her, but not the interest.

So this bright young twidget in her first major business venture was complaining to me about the extra $1.33 I was getting out of her own pocket. It was one of those "if you give me a microscope, I can show you the violin on my shoulder" type of moments.

You know, the kind where there's this one guy you have to call five times to fix your faucet and he doesn't speak English real well so you don't talk to him more than necessary?

I left my last place because of this, and it was a company. And not a small one.

I'm a bit irritated at customer service these days.

Luckily, though, I'm off the crap customer service merry-go-round with respect to shooting. I asked one of the cops at krav where he recommended a rookie learn to shoot, and he's looking into having some cops take a bunch of us out to a cool outdoor range.

So soon I can check "surfing" and "shooting" off my 2005 list. "Faraway travel" is booked, so it's just "driving stick" and "CPR" remaining (I think that "scuba" should be 2006).

Dear god, I'm not quite looking forward to the awkwardness of learning to surf. At least the start will be with complete strangers. Then, for the newbie-and-sucky portion, I'll have to just suck the shame up.

That's funny, because I knew how to drive stick AND do CPR in high school, but I'd pretty much have to fake either one of them at this point, I bet.

And they're supposed to put it an account and give you the interest, right?

That's explicitly not the case in New Orleans. No interest accrues. Though I've never gotten interest on a security deposit anywhere I've lived.