My Life as an Airbnb Disputee

I've walked out of an Airbnb. I tried, I really tried. To put up with being there. On and off for eleven days. I don't know why. 

Well, I do. Trying to make things work, fearing reprisals, not sticking up for myself. 

The Hosts and I are now in dispute, with Airbnb as referee. 

(In the Are you f-ing blind or what, ref? sense.)

To kick off (no football pun intended) the agent told me, 'I can't pass on your comments. That would count as personal advice.' 

So, I passed them on myself:

'Robin, I have some reality checks for you on your listing.'

It is in a luxurious block and has just been fully renovated to a high end before being listed. 

'The block is not luxurious, it's basic.' [Even the block's management company laughed at the descriptor luxurious.] 'Stained, damp smelling industrial carpet, faded, scuffed and spotted magnolia paint. Throughout the flat itself are botched paint and plaster touch-ups.'

The space comprises a one-bedroom flat finished to an impeccable standard!

'It's impenetrable to me how anyone could think that!!!' 

Top end utensils in the kitchen for you to use.

'Low end. But, really - I can use them? I thought they were just there for me to gaze enraptured upon. Particularly the so basic it's dragging its butterfly wings in a sewage runnel tin opener.' 

The flat benefits from a designated work space. 

'A turmeric stained Formica table and two plastic chairs in a corner of the living room do not a "designated work space" make.'

Quality bed linen, towels, and toiletries are provided. 

'The spare Primark £2 pair of pillow cases sets the standard here....'

Other things to note: The changeovers and cleaning between bookings are managed by a highly experienced team of local cleaners. All of our cleaning staff have completed Shulke UK accredited training courses on "Environmental cleaning during the COVID-19 outbreak".

'Yet, apparently, they can't plain scrub, polish, hoover or mop. Let alone deal with a small heap of macaroni on the top shelf in the kitchen cupboard.' 

Which began a back and forth. 

And I had nothing better to do.

So...

'The bathroom cost 10,000,' Robin insisted. 

‘Then the B and Q seconds in the wire tubs by the store entrance saw you coming. And do you intend your guests to spend all their time in the bathroom?'

‘I also renovated the rest of the property.’

‘You renovated this place? You're owning up to that?'

'What's wrong with my work?'

'For starters, there's an issue with your plastering. You’re bad at it. But have another go, do. Because where you've shoved the sofa bed against the wall, there's a scum line now that looks like it might be damp.'

'Actually, it's not. My father lectures on diagnosing and remedying damp, and my family owns a damp-proofing firm - and I've written two text books on it.'

'Why am I not surprised by what I'm reading? Are your textbooks best-sellers? Not sarcasm [!], they could well be. When writer Nancy Mitford visited Russia in 1951, she asked what the biggest selling book was. Her guide told her, "Glue, a follow up to Cement". What are your books called? I'll get them from the library. Damp and the follow up, Sopping?'

'It's a nice flat and I find your attacks on it not nice.'

'Robin, you could upload a photograph of the sitting room to the Instagram page, Is this a high end, apparently, seaside Airbnb or a Norwegian prison cell? It might well be viewed as too hard a punishment being imprisoned in it, so perhaps it's a good thing I'm paying so much to be here.'

'I'm not messaging any more.'

'I think I'll survive. Maybe not here in your flat, but in essence.'

Ongoing...

#airbnb #airbnbdisputes