Neither DOB or I have had previous experience with garbage disposals, having been raised in composting families. But we think the neighbors might object, even though compost smells better than cigarettes. Thus, we continue battling the contraption.
It backed up for the first time shortly after we arrived after our honeymoon. We called the landlord and were given instructions to use a toilet plunger to unstop it. Fortunately we had been given a toilet plunger as a wedding gift by a thoughtful (even if adolescently-minded) sibling, and had not yet had any trouble with that end of the plumbing. So we unstopped it and went on our merry way.
It backed up again. We plunged it again.
It backed up a third time, right in the middle of cooking a substantial Sunday dinner (potato peels, alas, were too much for it). This time even the plunger could not tame it, especially not once we turned on the dishwasher and it spewed filthy water and chewed up bits of potato peels and not so chewed up bits of things we had sent down several days earlier, not only half-filling the sink with this mixture but shooting it over freshly-washed dishes. DOB having an aversion to dirty potato bits on his clean dishes, we abandoned the dishwasher and both sinks for the evening and used the bathtub for necessary tasks.
Late the next day the plumber finally arrived, took things apart, and disengaged several plum pits from it. Apparently these are not supposed to go down it. Also it wants way more water than either of us have the patience to give it.
Right now we are at a truce. We don't give it plum pits or anything particularly huge or gloopy, and it doesn't do more than spit and wimper and then swallow stuff down. And when I'm in an especially good mood I turn it on while I'm rinsing dishes. Today I narrowly rescued it from having to chew up a dishcloth, so I hope it shows some gratitude.