Before we found our current apartment--actually, two weeks before we found our current apartment, which is like 10 years in NY real estate time--my roommate and I applied for another apartment. We negotiated a rent decrease, turned in our paperwork, and paid a deposit to the agency involved.
Then it all went to hell. Slowly, and over the course of several days. And oh, did it suck. The agent mistakenly told us certain utilities were included that were not. Then, the landlord didn't agree to the rent decrease. So there was no way of working the overall cost out of the fee, etc.; it was completely untenable. The president of the agency owned the error, apologized, etc., and when it became clear that it was just not going to work, promised to refund our money.
Now here's the thing: we each paid our half of the deposit with a debit card, for which they charged a two-dollar processing fee apiece. And instantly upon accepting that this deal had irrevocably screwed the pooch, my roommate and I were both adamant: "They better give us both our two dollars back!" We would never have paid the deposit and attendant fee if they'd gotten things right to begin with! If we lost our four dollars, the terrorists would win!
So amidst many cries of, "Two . . . dolllars" and "Didn't ask for a dime. Two dollars--cash" my roommate, as the one who worked near enough to pick up the deposit on her lunch hour, began the siege. The best part: the woman who gave us the refund had to ask permission for the four-dollar expenditure. But by God, each of us got our two dollars.
Small victories, man. Small victories.