How I Got Billed $4,908 for a Sewer Repair That May Not Have Been Mine
A Love Story in Four Piles of Shit
Let me start with something I never thought I’d say as a real estate investor:
One of the dried shit stains in my basement looked familiar.
That’s not a metaphor. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t even subtle. It was just sitting there, crusted into the concrete, haunting me.
This is the part of the more personal details I didn’t post on TikTok. Not because it’s too upsetting, there’s already a backlog of that. Not because I’m trying to protect anyone - I’m not. But because this one requires a little more nuance than “lol my house has sewage, look it’s gross!”
Pile 1: Context, Before the Pipe Grew Teeth
The basement of this Illinois rental property (that I’m now personally restoring because my manager decided to vanish on me) has already been through hell:
Destroyed by tenants or vandals (still unclear)
Full of mystery feces from multiple possible species
Urine…. so much urine…
A full-on open sewer pipe, pumping like it was part of the HVAC
Plus whatever else
I had been working in this house for over a month before I figured bullet number four out.
What happened?
It’s probably clear if you’ve been watching on TikTok that at first I thought the mess was just legacy damage. You know, your standard biohazard cocktail of rot, repulsive living standards, what I’ve started calling “tenant expressionism”, although I believe the law defines it more along the line of vandalism, and malicious destruction. But it wasn’t until I went into cleanup mode, loaded with chemical cleaners and a little machine to pump out ozone that I created what I will politely call a poisonous gas cloud.
So when I tried to vent the area and secure the drain line, that’s when I realized:
There was no cap.
There was no attachment.
There was just raw sewer gas flowing directly into the basement, and had been the entire time I’d been living upstairs.
I won’t forget that moment. Neurons connecting the dots of symptoms, timelines, physical disgust, and other lovely things.
The Shit That Looked Familiar
It’s hard to explain what “recognizing a shit stain” does to your mood. But something about it hit me funny. Like… “Wait a minute. I’ve seen this before.” Except it didn’t hit me funny haha, it hit me funny like this:
And that’s why I went digging.
Not in the literal basement (I’d already done enough of that).
But through my old emails. Work orders. Maintenance logs. Whatever statements I could find from a property manager I never chose.
Because if that spot looks the exact same… maybe the one repair I had been certain of being legitimate in this whole disaster of a working relationship was just like all the others.
Pile 2: A History of Shit
I Was in Hawaii. The Sewer Was in Illinois. Neither Was a Paradise.
At the time all this was unfolding, I was in Hawaii.
That sounds relaxing.
It wasn’t.
This wasn’t a vacation. This was a strategic emotional escape, following some of the worst weeks (months really) of my life - and we’re not getting into that here. Maybe ever. But let’s just say I was barely upright when I got the first email.
It came in calmly, like it wasn’t about to reroute my already emotionally distraught digestive system through another tsunami of anxiety.
“We have sewer cleaning companies come to the property to open the main sewer line but were unable to reach it... they think that the main sewer line to your house has collapsed.”
And just like that, a collapse.
Not just the sewer - but my sense of “How bad could this actually get?”
I didn’t know much about sewers at that point, and I’m still no expert, but what I did know is that the email I received meant:
The email then casually mentioned they’re digging that afternoon, to relieve the tenants of a “health hazard issue.” And just like that, I was looped in after the machines were already on-site, during the job, but somehow still expected to be the one “we could work this one” with.
That was March 22nd.
It was already too late.
The Next Morning: Surprise! We Performed Emergency Surgery on Your House
I hadn’t even had time to answer the first message before another one arrived the next morning. This one had a timeline of everything that had already happened.
7:00 AM – Pete’s Plumbing shows up.
Afternoon – Joe Septic runs 150 feet of snake and pulls back mud.
They suspect the line is collapsed under the street.
Bob Excavating shows up.
They start digging.
Then they decide to cut the pipe - right next to the porch - and run the raw sewage into a sump trench so the tenants can use the toilet again.
Now, let’s be real: I’m not trying to stop tenants from being able to poop safely.
But you can’t just cut a pipe in someone’s foundation and route sewage into a trench like it’s a water feature at a themed restaurant and call it "maintenance coordination."
By the time I got the second email, the chain of events had already crossed structural, sanitary, and possibly legal thresholds, yet no one had confirmed whether the problem was even mine to fix - or the city’s legal responsibility.
I Asked for a Quote. I Got a Diagnosis, a Bill, and a Side of Vibes.
So I finally responded, because by this point I had just enough blood sugar and WiFi in Hawaii to open Gmail without breaking down (also I just woke up). I figured the minimum I could do was ask some basic questions.
Like:
What caused this?
Did it happen all of a sudden?
Are you sure this isn’t a city issue?
Did anyone call the city?
Did you, by chance, get any kind of confirmation that I’m the one responsible for what’s literally buried under the public road?
And if not - maybe, just maybe - don’t dig into the public road?
Because even with all my limited sewer knowledge, I knew this much:
If a pipe collapses in the street, it’s probably not the property owner’s moral duty to cover it like the Batman of plumbing.
Instead of answers, I got this:
“They already got it unclogged but our tech said they have grease on it and even a tablespoon on the pipe. But we can't determine who or when it happened.”
Ah yes.
The tablespoon of grease defense.
Now, I’m not here to argue the crime scene relevance of one rogue tablespoon, but this wasn’t exactly the chain of evidence I expected after an emergency excavation. We’ve got:
A pipe collapse
An excavation team digging next to the porch
A trench full of open sewage
And the whole case resting on a mystery grease smear
I’m no detective, but I feel like if you're going to bypass the legal cost limits in a property management contract, perform unapproved work on someone else's asset, and then forward the bill like it's a DoorDash receipt... maybe you should lead with more than “there was grease, but nobody knows where it came from.”
Also, no quote. No scope of work. No discussion of options.
No confirmation that it wasn’t literally city pipe.
Just: “Let me know what insurance will cover.”
“It’s Already Resolved”
The 9:39 AM email from maintenance tried to present the situation as currently unfolding:
“Joe Septic is meeting Bob the Excavator at the property at 8:30 to camera the line and possibly attempt to use the sewer machine…”
Sounds like a plan.
Except… when I received the footage from that camera later?
It’s timestamped 9:17 AM.
And that video link he eventually sent shows a clean, flowing sewer line — zero visual evidence of a clog, backup, or collapse.
So either:
The 8:30 AM attempt was successful, and the line was cleared before 9:39 AM
Or it wasn’t - and that camera footage shows a clear line even though the problem still existed
Neither outcome fits the rest of the story.
I asked.
At 11:47 AM (Central Time, 5:18 AM Hawaii), I asked:
“Do you know what repair they’re doing? Are they just replacing a section? Do you know the size of it? Did they ever supply a more specific number for the proposed work?”
At 12:08 PM, Captain Maintenance sent another vague message:
“They already got it unclogged… but our tech said they have grease on it. Even a tablespoon on the pipe. But we can’t determine who or when it happened.”
Wait….so it’s resolved now? What’s the repair then?… I asked bothersomely at 12:18 PM:
“Do you know what repair they’re doing, are they just replacing a section? If so do you know the size of it and did they ever supply a more specific number for the proposed work?
And provide useless updates such as my 1:02 PM:
“Spoke to Insurance and he said they may be able to cover most of this, so I really just need to get an estimate of cost and scope of work before I can move forward”
Finally, at 1:36 PM, Captain Maintenance replied with… a video link:
“Here’s the footage of the video our subcontractors got. But no success on it. However, all the problems have been resolved already since we have dug it and inspected and resolved it.”
That’s the 9:17 AM video.
The one that shows a 61-foot sewer scope through a completely clear line.
How is there “no success on it” if the line is visibly open?
And if it was successful why had I been warned about $10K replacement options when he brought it up?
Nothing about that adds up.
Emergency Over? Great - Now Pay $3,089
Thirty minutes after sending the vague sewer footage, The Captain followed up again:
2:05 PM
“Can I call you, Trevor? Here’s my number.”
And then:
2:37 PM
“The work is already done and I already have the bill from our subcontractors. Amounting to $3,089.25.”
No breakdown. No scope of work. No confirmation the issue was on my stretch of the tube.
Just:
A Google Drive link to a camera run from 5 hours earlier
A message saying "no success on it"
Followed by: "But anyway, we resolved it."
Then a $3,089 bill, posted to my owner portal contribution tab, with instructions on how to pay
Let me be crystal clear here:
At this point, I still had no written diagnosis, no cost estimate, and no contractor report to submit to my insurance company.
Just vague references to:
Grease (possibly tenant-caused?)
A potential street excavation that maybe didn’t happen?
And something “resolved” in the hours before I even saw the scope footage
And yet, I was being told that:
Work was done
It cost $3,089.25
And my only participation in this entire process was to now log into a portal and “make a contribution”
Meanwhile, my emails, where I was clearly trying to follow procedure and coordinate with insurance, went unanswered for hours.
So let’s walk through the red flags:
“Emergency” repair was supposedly justified under an emergency contract clause that allowed them to override our contractual $250 approval limit - but no one ever confirmed where the break occurred, or whether it was even mine to repair.
The camera footage, recorded hours before the billing, shows no clear issue - despite being the only evidence provided.
I received no work order, no invoice copy, and no itemized detail from the subcontractor - only Mr. Manager’s summary.
And when I asked about insurance coverage before anything was finalized, I was effectively stonewalled.
At that point, the property manager wasn't just ignoring best practices - they were bypassing basic contractual obligations under our Property Management Agreement.
And that’s before we even get into whether any of this work was authorized, justified, or necessary.
Pile 3: A Shitty Realization
The Dirt Didn’t Lie - But It Didn’t Tell Me the Truth Either
I didn’t come back here expecting clarity. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about the sewer in months, if I’d ever thought about it at all with all that’s happened since then. But walking around the property now, in 2025, I saw it.
That shit stain in the basement. That puddle seeping towards the electrical panel room. Still visible. Still stained. Still right where I remembered it.
And for whatever reason, it brought the whole incident back. Not all of it. Just the weight of it. The confusion. The cost. The part of my life I was in when it happened.
The kind of moment where your brain spits out something random like:
“I wonder how far it is from that cut to the curb.”
So I grabbed a tape measure, and ran it from where the sewer exits the basement all the way to the edge of the property line…
Exactly 61 feet.
No real reason that number should’ve meant anything.
Except it did.
Because that was the number - 61 feet - stamped on the sewer scope video they sent me. The only footage I was ever given. The same video I was told had “no success,” even though it shows a clean line being pulled back through what looks like a totally functional pipe.
I hadn’t thought to connect it before.
But now it was obvious.
The camera showed 61 feet out.
My line stops at 61 feet.
And everything beyond that - whatever was supposed to be damaged or blocked or buried - was not on my property, and never shown.
At the time, I didn’t question it. I just wanted the problem gone.
But now that I’m standing here again… the math doesn’t add up.
But The Math Kept Talking
I measured it twice. Same result. From the edge of the house connection to the road - 61 feet, clean.
And suddenly, everything they didn't give me made sense.
They never showed me a longer scope because they never scoped a problem in my lateral. They never provided photos of the other dig because there was no other dig. They never attached an invoice from the contractor… maybe there was no contractor invoice?
What I had was a video that stopped at the property line, a work order that never showed up, and a sewer stain still living rent-free in the basement, two years later.
So I did the next logical thing. I went looking for where they’d supposedly dug.
First stop: the street. That was the claim, right? That the line collapsed out in the road. That’s what all the scare talk was about: a ten-thousand-dollar full replacement, the city line buried under concrete, the warnings of utility lines and dangerous terrain.
But out at the curb, there was nothing. No scar, no patch, no soil disturbance other than a storm drain nearby, maybe recently installed, but nothing to suggest trench work or heavy machinery had been anywhere near my lateral like there had been near my porch.
Then I went back toward the house.
And that’s when I realized: the only visible place that had been dug… was the porch trench. The only location thatchanged. The only evidence that anything happened at all.
Which meant the only excavation they billed me for… may have been the first and only one.
And the total for that first dig? Somewhere around $3,000, if I go off their own email summary.
So where did the rest of the $4,908 go?
The Numbers Were Never the Problem - Until They Were
Back then, I didn’t dwell on the math, and honestly I had bigger problems than this.
I didn’t check footage timestamps. I didn’t cross-reference footage length with property lines. I didn’t ask why the only video I was sent showed a clean pullback from exactly 61 feet and nothing beyond it.
Because I wasn’t thinking like a detective. I was thinking like a person underwater, just trying to breathe.
I was in Hawaii, holding my life together with thread and impulse. And what I was told at the time was simple: The line is clear now. The emergency is over. You just need to pay $3,089.25.
Except I didn’t get an invoice for $3,089.25.
What I got, weeks later, when I was finally coherent enough to log in and check - was a statement that said I owed $4,908.75.
There was no breakdown. No contractor attachment. Just a vague line item:
“Invoice – Due 3/29/2023” #14FU
(Okay I swapped out FU in place of two number; a guy needs some confidentiality)
There was no sign of it in any documentation until April 18, 2023 - nearly a month after I had been told it was ready and resolved.
All I had was a number in the owner portal balance, a bill total that didn’t match the previous amount I’d been given, and no explanation for where that extra $1,819.50 had come from.
That number didn’t show up in any subcontractor documents - not that I was ever given one. It wasn’t in the footage. It wasn’t in a work order. It was just… added.
Best I could figure, the overage was either:
A markup tacked on by the property management team,
An invented fee for “coordination,” or
A retroactive billing of additional time, effort, or vibes
It was the kind of invoice that might make sense if you had trust. If you believed the work was necessary. If you had proof the repairs were actually performed beyond the property line.
But if I had any of that then, I have none now.
Just a 61-foot camera. A trench at the porch. A shit stain that hadn’t moved. And a bill that kept growing the less I understood.
Pile 4: Shits Falling Apart
The Smell Doesn’t Leave When the People Do
And that brings us to today.
Of all the disasters tied to this house - the vandalism, the property manager lies, the repairs that were never authorized, the repairs that were never done - this one sewer incident was the only thing I thought had been handled properly.
And now even that’s gone.
This one repair. This one thing. I was sure it was real. Sure it was necessary. Sure it was the one time someone actually did their job.
Nope.
Instead, it turns out I was breathing in sewer gas for weeks. Living above an open pipe, in a house full of feces, mold, and god knows what else. I’ve been sick for over a month, cleaning this place while every single room looks like somebody tried to break the world record for “most bodily fluids launched in a domestic environment.”
I don’t even have the emotional bandwidth to describe what I’ve cleaned up in here. Shit - human and maybe not - smeared, pooled, streaked in places where it physically should not be. Urine patterns like crime scene art. Appliances ripped out, razor blades scattered amongst trash. Personal belongings left behind like someone fled a crime scene they committed. Oh and the goo… so much goo.
And on top of that, this.
This one goddamn situation that I was told was “an emergency repair” and “already resolved” and “definitely my responsibility,” only to find out it stops at the property line, shows a clean line on camera, and now points to a $4,908 bill for something that might never have needed fixing - or was fixed entirely in bad faith.
It’s not even about the money anymore.
It’s the exhaustion of being right, of having to fight back because the alternative is to just accept being run over. The mental whiplash of finally understanding something only to realize it makes your situation worse, not better. Another line on the lawsuit. Another bullet for court. Another fraudulent repair. Another insurance tangle. Another rabbit hole to chase while I'm barely hanging on.
There’s no resolution here.
Just the realization that the smell never left - because the problem never did.
Gaslighting, But Make It Methane
I used to think gaslighting was mostly emotional. Now I know it can be literal too.
The smell, the sickness, the weeks of ozone and sewer gas - all of it happened after I was told the issue was resolved. That word: “resolved.” Captain Maintenance's favorite incantation.
Because that’s what this whole situation was wrapped in resolution. The kind you can’t verify. The kind where if you ask too many questions, they send you a camera video that shows nothing wrong and call it “proof.” The kind where the repair already happened, the bill is already posted, and your job now is to stop asking and start paying.
I’ve read and re-read every statement, and every email. Every single one.
And what I see, looking back, is this pattern, a kind of soft-edged confusion that kept me spinning in place. Captain Maintenance never said, “The issue was in your line.” He said, “They got it unclogged.” He never said, “We scoped the whole lateral.” He said, “There was no success on it.” He didn’t say, “Here’s the quote, here’s the scope of work, here’s what your insurance will need.” He said, “Let me know what insurance will cover.” Which they couldn’t, because no proof of scope and work was ever supplied.
Nothing was firm. Everything was a shrug in sentence form.
And that’s how they do it.
Because if they had said something real, I could have confirmed or denied it. I could’ve held them to it. But they didn’t. They kept it vague. Kept it emotionally reasonable, grounded in responsibility. Kept it looking like maybe I was just overwhelmed, or misunderstanding, or - let’s be honest - being difficult.
That’s the power of uncertainty. It slows you down. It keeps you from pushing too hard. It makes you question your gut.
And that’s exactly what I did.
I told myself this was fine. Maybe I just didn’t understand. That they were doing their best. That emergencies happen and I’d figure out the paperwork later. I gave benefit of the doubt that I literally could not afford to give, because I was in crisis, and that’s when this stuff works best - when you're too exhausted to check.
No invoice. No quote. No confirmation it was even my pipe. Just a sewer scope video that stopped 61 feet in, no blockage, no break, no collapse. And a repair that somehow got “resolved” before it even began.
And now I wonder: how many other jobs went this way?
How many times have I received an update that said “taken care of” and just paid the damn thing because I didn’t have the energy to chase it?
How many charges were sitting in my owner portal right now that were just as empty, just as manipulated, just as fake, but buried under plausible-sounding language and one person’s complete indifference to the truth?
I don’t know.
But I do know that this wasn’t a fluke. It was a pattern. One that worked… until it didn’t.
And now I have the footage. I have the measurements. I have the moldy-ass poop trail that kicked this memory back into gear.
And I have the receipts - even if they never gave me the one that mattered.
Cleaning This Shit Up
So here’s where it stands.
There’s nothing else for me to find in the paperwork. I’ve rewatched the footage, re-read the emails, retraced the timelines. I’ve measured the damn yard. And everything that can be learned from the digital trail… has been.
The property manager has already been fired - formally, contractually, in writing. There’s no benefit to sending them more questions, they haven’t even responded to their legal obligations so far. They either won’t answer or they’ll just make something up. That part of the story is over.
What’s not over is the investigation.
I don’t know if the city will have anything. But I’ve filed a Freedom of Information Act request anyway - asking for everything: any 811 “Julie” locate tickets, any excavation permits, any service interruptions, complaints, sewer main work, trap backups, contractor reports… anything they’ve got between Feb and May 2023 at this address.
I got the automatic “thanks for your request” email - and then a vacation auto-reply from the FOIA officer saying they’re out of office until the 24th. So, clock’s not ticking yet. But when it does, they’ve got five business days to respond.
That’s one path.
The other? Neighbors.
Because when I first started cleaning up this mess, one of them told me straight-up: the tenants were dumping grease down the drains, then - after what I now assume was the blowout - they started pouring it off the porch. Front and back. Like some kind of deep-fryer funeral rite.
So if I see that guy again, I’ll ask what he remembers. If he saw the trucks. If he remembers when they showed up. If there was ever a street dig. If anyone talked to him. Anything. It’s a small town, hopefully people talk.
That’s it. That’s what I’ve got.
No punchline. No moral. No satisfying answer yet.
Just a Freedom of Information request, a neighbor I hope I bump into, and a lingering puddle of sewage trauma that still smells like unfinished business.
This is all the shit I know… for now.
This post contains the personal analysis and conclusions of the property owner, based solely on available documentation including images, emails, and financial statements from the time of the incident. All conclusions are presented in good faith and reflect the owner’s best interpretation of the facts as they appear. The owner never approved any repairs in this circumstance and was never informed of scope, cause, or cost in time to do so.
The names of all individuals, companies, and contractors have been intentionally omitted to prevent reputational or financial harm to any party. This post is not intended as a public accusation or legal allegation, but as documentation and commentary for private use and public interest.
No statements herein are made with malicious or negligent intent, and all content is subject to correction or clarification if additional records become available.