Thursday, December 22, 2011

#38 The Boss

Since this is the last post of 2011, let's make it worthwhile.  I have yet to really talk about my boss.

My boss sucks.

I don't mean the various amounts of people I have to deal with at the head office, but the main guy that is boss of everyone and owns the buildings.  He's vaguely foreign, has a thick, questionable accent, glosses over words and speaks really fast so he sounds more fluent.  It's really weird.

He's a one percenter that just doesn't get it. For instance, the evening after the Tenant Appreciation Party, he has a housewarming party and invites all of us lowly workers.  It's a fancy house in the Hollywood Hills, and for you guys that don't know, homes in hills are ridiculous for various reasons: extremely steep, narrow, and windy roads, nowhere to park, everyone has a giant window that looks out to the whole city or the very least, the Sunset Strip, it's very developed, yet there's still coyotes that run around and kidnap rich people's rat dogs...I could go on.
Anyway, I begrudgingly go to this housewarming party.  His house looks nice from the outside.  Then you walk up to the door, and who is greeting you but a life-sized steampunk statue of The Predator made out of scrap metal.
...on the porch, atop the steps...seriously.
It just gets worse.  The inside looks like a cheesy European club with purple lights, zebra stripes everywhere, picture frames with the original stock photo still in it, black toilets (which you never know if it's dirty or clean).  It's the prime example of when rich people have too much money and no taste. 
The boss is so clueless to invite his employees to a party, where the point is to show off his riches and his wife's shoe closet. Meanwhile, we get paid dick and have no health insurance.  He has a mashed potato martini bar (no shit) and bartenders, so my plan was to eat all his stupid fancy food and drink a lot, then steal something out of sheer principle and irritation.

My boss is also sexist.  He only hires women because, I believe, it looks nice for him to have a harem of pretty girls running his buildings, and he, the figurehead is the only man that takes care of us all.  He also has to make sure we all have boyfriends or husbands, so someone else can live there and pay the bills. The boss gives me the bullshit claim that tenants are less likely to get into confrontation and fights with a female manager than a male one.  Sure thing.  

On another occasion, my leasing agent, Charlotte, told our boss she got engaged.  As a wedding gift, he offered her the grand event hall for her wedding location.  She was so happy about it because that saves thousands of dollars on a wedding venue.  Then he told her she can only have it if she gets married in three months.  Which she sort of considered.  It's not a lot of time if you plan on a lavish wedding, but if the venue is free, might as well.  Then he straight took back his offer after a few weeks because he realized he can probably make money off of someone else renting it on whatever day she never chose. 

In general, when it comes to the things I need for the building or a raise, he usually says no because he's a cheap motherfucker. He also made me pay a full security deposit for my unit. Oh that's right, I gave him $1800 to start the job.

UUUuarrrarrghghghghajajraaaaahhhh fuck that guy, right?

Happy Holidays, gang!  See you next year.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

#37 Parents

The majority of the babies that dwell in my building are modern, working adults ages 25-40.  I have a very low percentage of students that live here, but with the noise issues, parties and general mess they make, it would seem like I run a dorm.
I have three sets of Greek roommates (not fraternity Greeks, like phyllo-feta-European-debt-crisis Greek) that go to USC.  I get complaints from their neighbors below saying they jump rope at 3AM.
Mostly, though, I have FIDM girls.  FIDM is The Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising.  It is a few blocks away.  Since it's only kind of a real university, they don't have dorms.  Some of them come to my building, where they'll jam four of themselves into a tiny two-bedroom.  All of the time, mommy and daddy take care of the bill.
Since the parents handle the money, I have to deal with the parents on various occasions:
  • A mother walks in my office "I just moved my daughter into #210, and I have a few concerns to address before I fly back to Georgia. Is there a vent for the air conditioner or is it just going to blow down on her bed, because she gets very cold.  Can the lights in front of the building be brighter? Why does she only have hot water but no cold water?"
    "I understand your concern.  Since this is a loft building and the central A/C isn't build in the walls, the air just blows, she can get her own vent if she wants to install it.  The light issue is not with the building, it's with the city. For some reason, that unit only gets hot water.  We will work on it."
    She left with the most defeated and disappointed look on her Paula Deen-esque face. Sorry, lady.
  • A girl's parents paid for her rent six months in advance.  This girl has this crappy, burnout boyfriend that is clearly just mooching off her.  Since he lives for free, he has to pay for parking, which is $150 each month.  I get a voicemail from this guy's mom: "Hello, I'm Alex's mom, and my son needs to pay for parking.  I will pay for this month, so can you please tell me how much money I should put in his account?  Text me back, as I get bad reception here in Vegas." I text her back about how much he owes.  I get a text back that says "I am puttng money in your accnt this month, for the rest of the time, young man, I do NOT want to hear about the consequnces if you get towed. Do you umberstand me? Learn to be responsible.Then..."I apologize for that.  That was to go to my son, not to you. I'm very sorry." The mom-tone still comes across in text form.
  • "Hello, I'm Sarah's mom. I need to pay for parking underground for my daughter because downtown is just so unsafe."
    "Well, that's $200 a month for garage parking."
    "How can I get her to break her lease?  I just don't want her living downtown.  We're from Scottsdale, Arizona and she's not used to the danger. I bought her pepper spray."
    Not used to danger?  Suburban moms are so scared of the city and driving on freeways. 
  • "Hi, I'm Jillian's dad.  My daughter got beat up by a homeless person in the street and now she doesn't want to live downtown anymore, and she's going to finish her school at FIDM in San Francisco."
    "What happened to her, is she okay?"
    "She's fine.  A homeless woman thought Jillian said something to her, and she pushed her and then started hitting her.  Anyway, I want to pay for her part of the rent for the rest of the time, as her roommates are still going to stay in the unit. this is valid, I guess.  How weak is Jillian, though? Homeless zombie females are not strong.  They are usually cracked out, super skinny and frail.   I'm kind of amazed that no one did anything, however, no one wants to actually touch a zombie.  Although, I think the story is exaggerated, as the zombie probably didn't beat her up, but maybe weakly slapped her a few times and it took poor Jillian by surprise.  It's probably the closest thing to a fight she's ever been in. 
Basically, parents are freaked out that their 19-year old daughter would live in downtown LA, but they aren't concerned about spending a stupid amount of money on a trade school, where their daughters will face a sad future of only knowing the world of fashion, and having no other discernible skills in life?  Okay, mom and dad. Get your priorities straight.

    Friday, December 9, 2011

    #36 Tenant "Appreciation" "Party"

    My company owns the building next door, where the first and second floor was the grand lobby of Bank of America back in the olden days.  It has been turned into an event hall where it is rented to people who hold swank parties, lavish weddings, and various filmings.
    My boss decided to hold a Holiday Tenant Appreciation Party for all the tenants of all five of his buildings. I actually thought it was a nice idea.  Around 500 people showed up.  What enticed people to come was the promise of free food, booze and a "free rent lottery". 
    Here I am, dreading this stupid party because as much as I like eating and drinking on someone else's dime, I have to make nicey with the idiots.

    Since I don't have a dress code with this job, I usually look like total shit.  (for instance, I'm wearing workout clothes right now.  Will I work out? Who knows.)  When I put makeup on, it's for an audition.  I'm sure when people from the building see me dressed well, they must think I'm going to court.
    What I'm saying is that I normally look like a Kathy cartoon.
    I get all gussied up for this party with the full intention of getting straight hammered.  I talk to the various tenants I actually like, harass the caterers to bring more shrimp my way, and pour Amstel Light down my throat.
    There is a stage where a band (one of the tenants) plays, the rent lottery was announced (where right after, half the crowd left) and it's also where my boss wanted to thank everyone for coming.  I did not know this was happening.  He proceeds to call all of us managers and leasing agents up.  My leasing agent Charlotte slunk out awhile ago.  Smart.
    Of course, no one knows how to talk into a mic, and no one can hear anything.  In my drunken stupor, I decide to take charge since I was the only one that knows how to use a mic on stage. I yank the mic from my boss' hand while saying "Give it" and proceed with this:

    "Hello everybody, I'm Mapple from the building next door.  Where are you people that live in next door?  I know you're out there."  I hear various parts of the room clap and woot.
    "Great.  Well, guys, thanks for being here.  I hope you're having a good time..." and since I didn't know I was even going up there, I didn't have anything prepared, so I just said:
    "...I don't know what I'm doing up here.  I've got nothing.  Should I do some stand-up?"
    "Ok, sure.  Guys, what's the deal with beer, right?"
    Here's a fact:  I don't have a standup routine, nor do I do any standup.  I'm just an attention hogging actor with a mic.  I had a beer in my hand and that was the only thing I could think to say.  I was really amused with myself, however, but since I had no punchline, I just said:
    "I'm kidding, take this mic away from me."
    And then the boss is so confused, and he takes the mic, says something inaudible, and puts it on the stand.  I asked "Is that it?" and he shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess."
    The audience is just standing there watching us, so I just yell back into the mic, "Ok, cool, guys.  That's it. Party on!"

    Ok, cool, guys.  That's it.  Party on.


    Tuesday, November 8, 2011

    #35 Lost and Found

    From time to time, I get people that lose jewelry, wallets and cell phones in common areas like the hallway, pool, or gym.  People will either steal it, give it to security or give it to me.  I had a few lost phones that no one ever claimed, so after a few months I sent them off for phone recycling.  I decided to keep one of the microSD cards, because I knew I was going to need one when I upgraded my phone.  It keeps me from  doing the additional task of going and getting one.

    This microSD card has been in my desk for four months, and I finally got myself a phone that needed one of these things.  I insert it into my phone, and yea! I can take pictures and store music on my phone.  Happy day.

    Oh...what's this?  There's already data on this microSD card. Of course there is.  It did belong to someone prior.  Why whatever could it be?  Let's look at the photos.  Oh, I recognize this guy.  He's one of my tenants.  Boring.  Let me delete these to save some space, but wait, what's this?:
    Oh, a picture of his cat and his girlfriend.  Precious. 
     Woah.  Alright body.  What's up?

     Hey, a kitty cat.  Adorable.


     Just me and my grandma.



    It just goes on and on with more pictures of him shirtless, pets, girlfriends, family members and his member.  Why SO many photos of your penis?  After you send it, you delete that shit, right?  

    I kind of hate this tenant, too, because  he and his roommates decided they wanted to be ballers and get one of the most expensive units in my building.  Little did they know, their lavish lifestyle of being waiters isn't always steady.  They never get their full rent in on time.  
    The other day, I pass him going into the elevator as he walks out the elevator.  He said, 
    "Oh, hey, I'm going to get you rent today, for sure.  You know, it's always in cash, so I have to deposit my tips into the bank."
    "Sure thing, dude."
    *elevator doors close*
    "I know what your penis looks like."

    I was, of course, alone.  
    Oh my god, how weird would it be if someone were in there when I said that.  I guess it's as weird as having pictures of your tenant's junk on your phone.

    Friday, October 28, 2011

    #34 Pigeon V - The Haunting

    *ring ring*
    "Mapple! Guess what?"
    "I don't know. What."
    "I went to my cabinet to get my pills I take in the morning, you know, for my acid reflux, and the cap was open. And then yesterday, I heard the door click, like someone tried to open my door, so I talked to the neighbor and they said it wasn't them."
    "What are you telling me, you think someone came in your place?  Maintenance didn't go into your place, if you think that's it."
    "No.  There is something creepy going on.  I'm about to take my Halloween decorations down, because it's gettin' creepy up in this, you feelin' me?"
    "So you think that you're experiencing paranormal activity in this new unit?"
    "No, Mapple, I ain't being paranoid.  I'm normal.  I ain't crazy."
    "I meant...paranormal means...ugh.  So you think you have ghosts."
    "Yeah, I gotta show you.  Come up."
    "No, Pigeon, I have stuff to do.  What do you want me to do?  I can't do anything about this.  This is a really old building..."

    And she won't get off the phone with me, so again, to sate her, I go up to her place.  She's showing me her proof, like her decorations have been turned askew or at the angle she didn't leave it at.

    "Why they messin' with my stuff?  Also, one day, I was all sleepin' on the couch and I wake up and there's a tall black bald man in a suit standing near the door.  Was this an office before?"  
    And by now, I'm just humoring her. She's convinced that spirits are haunting her, so there's really no way to logically explain shit to her, like maybe her asshole kid moved shit around, or maybe she forgot to screw the cap back on her acid reflux meds.
    "You know, this was an office building before it was a loft building.  This used to be an old bank back in the 30's.  I haven't heard much from the other tenants about ghosts, but maybe they are around and you're just more spiritual, so you can sense it better than everyone else."
    "Yeah, I am more spiritual.  I feel a presence. When I be washing my dishes, I am finding shapes in the water on my counter, like hearts, giraffes and dinosaurs."
    "Woah, a dinosaur.  That really is a distinct shape to spot."
    "No, it's real.  I know they ain't real, but how are their shapes appearing on my counter?"
    "I said distinct, not extinct...I know you know that dinosaurs are extinct...(sigh)...I'm sorry, what do you want me to do again?"
    "I got pictures. Three are on my phone, but I can't show you because it's dead, but I'll show you the one I have on my computer."
    "Email that to me."
    "How do I do that?"
    Just so I could get this picture and show you guys, I taught her how to log into Gmail on her computer and send a fucking email, because she only knows how to do it on her phone.

    I present to you her proof she has ghosts.
    See the heart?  I guess that means the ghost loves her
     Happy Halloween, folks.

    Friday, October 7, 2011

    #33 Additional Elevator Signs

    After that annoying conversation I had on the roof with one of the babies I hate most, I thought, "Should I still put up my entertaining as shit elevator signs?"  Then, after no consideration, I thought, "Fuck this guy for making me doubt the wonderfulness of my work."

    As I've mentioned before, I went and purchased Febreze plugins to make the hallway around the trash chute smell not like trash.  As of this date, 5 (out of 12) remain.

    I found two of these signs ripped down on the floor. This incited anger in a few people. (I'm thinking the ones that stole the air freshners.) I don't even take offense anymore.  I just imagine a baby reading it and getting so angry at a sign that they tear it down, rip it up, crumple it, and then throw in on the ground in rage.  What a spaz.

    I really phoned this one in.  I did not even feel like being creative for these ungrateful dicks because I figured it was going to get ripped down anyway.  Turns out, this one stayed up the longest.

    Copying and pasting pictures makes for a very easy and visual sign.  I didn't want to make it too Halloweeny with pumpkins and shit because this isn't an elementary school.  Mustaches have become more socially acceptable and not just a hipster thing anymore, so I figured this general mass of assholes may find humor in it.  Ugh, I don't even care anymore.  
    The bottom part may be too small to read, but in an attempt of self promotion, it says to look for me in a Walgreens commercial coming up this month.  It's a Halloween one.  I also have a JC Penney out right now.  If you don't know what I look like, well, just watch any of those above mentioned commercials this month and pick out one woman.  Use whomever you choose as your mind avatar for Mapple.

    Tuesday, September 27, 2011

    #32 Batman

    A lot of filming goes on in downtown Los Angeles.  Almost any movie, TV show or commercial you see with a city background (that's not obviously and distinctly New York) is shot 0-4 blocks from my building.
    The other day, the latest Dark Knight was being filmed in the building next door and in the alley.

    Baby Mandy from 913, whose window faces the alley, comes in my office:
    "What's up with all this filming?  I woke up all half naked and there's creepy production guys looking into my window on their cranes."
    "Yeah, they are filming Batman in the alley."
    "Well, if I weren't such a big fan of Batman, I would not be okay with this."
    Only part of this makes sense to me, but I get it.
    "Also, when are we getting new pool furniture?  I mean, you guys are raising rents (Oh yeah, we raised rents.  Imagine how fucking fun it is telling people that) and we are paying for all this stuff and our gym is all broken..."
    "I'm sorry, Mandy.  Only the elliptical is broken, and we replaced it with a brand new elliptical.  We'll be getting new furniture at the pool soon.  I know it sucks, but it's coming."

    So for the next few hours, I get calls and emails asking these same questions.  Something was up.  Later on, I walked around the building, and someone left this note on the wall in the common areas:
    Someone took the time to type this out and post it.  Maybe to cite some kind of revolt.  As if I'm not aware of this shit.  I ask the head office about this crap all the time, and they never give me anything.  You assholes just try to talk to my superiors about this shit.  If you can figure out a way to get what I've been asking of them for months, then please, be my guest.     

    Not to totally dog this baby, they have a point.  Rent is fucking expensive here, like I'm talking $1500 for a studio expensive.  Granted, you are just paying for rent, and the pool and gym are just added extras, but I get their kvetch.  However "HELP MAKE our building THE WELL MAINTENED (no spell check in all caps, huh?) AND MANAGED BUILDING THAT IT SHOULD BE!"  I find insulting.  Only two of their six complaints are something I sort of deal with, and I can't do anything without the head office giving me what I want.
    "WHAT IT DO...NEPHEW" is pretty great, though.  We all can get behind someone that uses hip-hop slang that makes no sense.

    I'm pretty much at the place where I hate both sides, the people that live here and the people I work for.  I'm in the center of this circle of annoyance where any direction I turn, it sucks. 

    I did, however, see Anne Hathaway/Catwoman's stunt lady drive the Bat Bike.  It was pretty cool. 

    Tuesday, September 13, 2011

    #31 Labor Day

    The company I work for doesn't recognize holidays, with the exception of Thanksgiving Day.  Last year, on the day before Thanksgiving, they gave me a frozen turkey.  If I were to prepare a turkey for Thanksgiving, I would have A) Already had it B) would have needed it thawed and C)have allowed it to brine for at least a day.  I thought maybe I could thaw it and give it to my dog, but butchering a turkey is a timely task.  Needless to say, it's still sitting in my office freezer. 
    This past Labor Day was included in the list of National Holidays That Don't Exist to the Company I Work For.  Tenants also seem to think I am at their disposal on Labor Day, so even when I want to flake on the day, I can't. No one really called me on the baby monitor during the day, but then all of a sudden 8pm hit.
    *ring ring*
    Are we allowed to have parties upstairs at the pool?  
    Well, there's a party up there and they said they had permission from you.
    Ugh. No. That's a lie.
    Hang up. Then seconds later:
    *ring ring*
    There's a party at the pool and it's loud and really disruptive.
    I'll take care of it.
    I get up to the pool area and there's a shit ton of people up there with a whole DJ set up.  The rule is, no parties up at the pool, and each unit can only have two guests. Turns out, there's two separate parties going on in this very small space of the pool.  You aren't allowed to have glass bottles for the obvious reason of there being barefoot people running around.
    I first yell at the guy with the DJ set:
    "You have to clear out all these people.  You're causing a disruption. You aren't allowed to grill or have amplified music."
    "Aw, come on, Mapple. Be cool.  I just finished the bar exam."
    "Dude, you're now a lawyer, so you understand rules and regulations.  How about you shut this shit down?"
    "Okay.  I'll turn it down.  Have a burger."
    I then walk over to the other party at the hot tub and tell them they are not to have glass up there.  They all look at me like I'm an asshole.  Which, I get it, I would also think I sucked if I told myself to stop partying.   They all put their beers in cups and set the bottles aside.
    I then walk over to a group of tenants just sitting there, asking them if the music is too loud.  There sits a tenant I fucking hate.  He decides to just argue with me for no reason:
    "You know, some people don't like you're elevator signs."
    "Oh really.  By some people, do you mean you? Do you find them offensive?"
    "Yeah, I do.  I have clients come by and they say that people know when they are going to pay late.  We aren't children.  Where do you even get these signs from?"
    "They come from my head, and just because you pay late, don't see it as a personal attack on you."
    Even though it is.  
    I hate this motherfucker. The signs are for dicks like him that pay late all the time.
    This really put me in a mood, because I didn't feel like being the dick that has to break up a party and also be critiqued on my signs, which most people enjoy.  (Until I find them ripped and crumpled up on the ground.)
     Then *sound of broken glass*, I turn around,
    "THIS!  This is what I'm fucking talking about people!  Somebody clean that shit up."
    And all these drunk people look around for who did it, and no one will fess up, so I have to clean up after the babies.

    After the party is broken up, I go back to my place to watch TV.  It is now around 10pm.
    *ring ring*
    Hey, I'm locked out. 
    It's going to cost you $20.
    That's fine.  I have it. 

    I get up there, and it's one of the fuckers from the party. He's drunk as shit.  I open the door for him.
    "Do I really have to pay?  I was the one that brought all the cups for people to drink out of at the pool."
    "Yeah, but you were also the one that dropped the bottle of glass."
    "I swear that wasn't me.   Fine.  I'll pay you tomorrow."
    I still have yet to get paid by this asshole. 

    Back at my place, and I almost done watching a full episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
    *ring ring*
    Hi. The security guard isn't down here, and I need to get some keys that my friend left me at the front desk.
    Fine, I'll be there in a few minutes.
    I finish watching the episode, and I go to the lobby.  Low and behold, the useless security guard is there, and he handled it.  I'm glad I wasted my time.

     *ring ring*
    Hey, something busted in the A/C unit on top of the building, and now my loft is shaking.
    I'll call maintenance.
    It's 11pm at this point.  Our 24 maintenance guy is the laziest piece of shit.  How he's designated as our 24 hour guy is beyond me.  I leave a message, and he calls me back telling me how to fix it.
    It's the big A/C unit that cools the whole building.  I have to scale the side of the building on the roof to get to this A/C unit. I was gripping this metal railing, and didn't look down.  Now I know how the jumper felt.
    I get to this giant air conditioning unit and I have no idea what I'm looking at.
    This is the giant A/C. Like I know what I'm fucking doing.
    The maintenance guy is telling me over the phone
    Just turn the switch.
    Which switch, there are a million switches.
    On the box.
    What? They're all boxes.
    This goes on for 10 minutes, and then he says,
    I'll be there in 10 minutes.
    You should have been here 20 minutes ago.

    I get back to my place, and it's midnight.  All this bullshit happens in the span of four hours.  I get barely any calls the whole weekend, and out of nowhere, four hours of non-stop shit during times where I'm supposed to be relaxing.
    It really made me want to quit.  As much as I hate this fucking job, I hate paying rent more, so...egh. Here I remain.

    Tuesday, August 30, 2011

    #30 Neighbors Be Hatin'

    I have to do a lot of shit.  I am also forced into some responsibilities that aren't in my job description.  Namely, tenant relations.  Apparently, when neighbors and roommates don't like each other, they feel the need to use me as a moderator.  I don't know why.  This doesn't get me brownie points with the company I work for, nor does it make me any more money.  Not to mention, I really cannot do shit.
    • One baby cries to me about how his roommate scares him.  You chose to live with with him.  You were not forced into this roommate situation like some kind of arranged marriage from your tribal father at the age of eight.  What does he want me to do?  Sit there while I listen to them argue in my office.  Luckily for me, the roommate didn't end up showing.  
    • Another loud baby keeps getting called on because he's a music producer (a different one), and his "working" causes the walls to vibrate.  Thus, the people next to and below him hate him.  One evening, he wants me to "witness the atrocity" that has happened to him.  One of his neighbors has thrown eggs at his door and left him this note:

    So the baby refuses to clean up the eggs, which I understand, but we live in an enclosed building.  It's not some apartment complex where your door opens to the outside.  Eggs in a hallway = not awesome.   And really, if you are going to vandalize and leave a bitchy note, at least check your spelling so you don't look stupid.  It's either the neighbors below, who are bitchy older queens, or the girls next door that are fresh-out-of-college aged.   Judging by the handwriting, it's got to be the girls.
    • I had another pair of babies have some loud party, and there was a scuffle in the hall way between two of their guests.  The next door neighbor opened his door to see what the noise was about, and the two dudes starting fighting their way into the neighbor's unit.  The neighbor tried to kick them out, and instead, he got hit, so he became a part of this fist fight.   It all ended with me giving the guys with the party a noise violation fine the next day, which they paid.  I'm actually really amazed by this.  No one ever pays those fines. 
    • Of course, this will end with the tenant of all tenants...Pigeon.  She's so goddamn terrible.  Her next door neighbor is this polite Christian family.  She blasts her music which she claims, "Ain't even that loud.  You feel me?" They knock on the wall they share, so she understands to turn it down.  This does not work with her.  She randomly started blasting her music at 4am the other night.  Her neighbor got woken up and went to ask her to turn it down, to which Pigeon was unresponsive and didn't even bother to open the door.  She left them this note the next day:

    To those of you that can't read this chicken scratch, it states:
         TO (Who Ever)
            Yo Don't ever Knock 
            at my door At no 
            Damn 4:00 AM in the 
            morning, because the 
            music was not loud.  And 
            for the record, Yall need to 
           quit Knocking on 
           my Walls all the Damn times. 
                     Pigeon (or her real name, which you cannot even make out, so it's fine)

    Monday, August 15, 2011

    #29 Pigeon IV: A Child and Voicemails

    By now, you should be familiar with the antics of my most annoying tenant, Pigeon.   Why is it that one of the worst tenants is the one that calls me every day with some kind of annoying complaint?  Maybe that's what makes her the worst tenant.  Either way, she's a huge pain in my ass.

    Pigeon has a child. Upon seeing him, you'd notice this cute four-year old child, with a bright spirit and adorable smile.  It's deceiving, because in reality, this kid is a little shit.  

    Our maintenance guy has to go into Pigeon's place every few weeks because her kid has an affinity for unraveling an entire roll of toilet paper into the toilet, flushing, and clogging the toilet.  Fucking gross. Like it's my maintenance guy's responsibility to clean up after your dirty ass baby.

    I have a coffee table with local business postcards and takeout menus in my office.  In my OCD way, I like to have them in orderly stacks, and placed neatly in categories.
    The other day, Pigeon was in my office, and she brought her spawn.  Her asshole kid says,
    "Look mommy!  All these cards!"
    And then he proceeds to bunch all the cards together and triumphantly throw them in the air with both hands, like LeBron James tossing up talcum powder before a game or Scrooge McDuck relishing in his riches.

    After Pigeon scolds him and tells him to sit down, he sits at my Leasing Agent Charlotte's desk, and starts opening up her drawers.  He finds a green highlighter and starts drawing all over her desk calendar.
    Pigeon is doing nothing, so I go up to him and take the marker away from him.
    "You can't do that."
    "Yes I can."
    "Why did you draw on my paper?"
    "Because I want to."
    "Its my marker."
    "No! It's my marker."
    "No. This is my paper, and my marker and you aren't allowed to draw on it."
    "It's my marker and I want to."
    I don't even know why I am arguing with this little asshole. He's four-years old.  His logic makes no sense.    All the while, Pigeon is just sitting there looking at her phone.  She chimes in with,
    "People tell me he's just hyper and this is normal."
    I hear that she beats him.  I kind of don't blame her.

    Let's end this with some voicemails Pigeon recently left me. Much like the other ones, these are verbatim.

    This one should be read in a calm, yet confused tone:
    Hey Mapple. This is Pigeon. I want to know what's goin' on with the mail. The mail...I haven't gotten any mail in 7 days, not even no bill papers.  I didn't even get no bill papers! So can you call me and um, and um, see, and let me know what's going on with the mail please, because this is like really weird. I want my mail. I don't even care if it's a little penny saver, K? Thank you, buh bye, later.
    Like I know where your mail disappears to.  Turns out, when your mailbox gets filled up because you don't check it, the mail carrier just takes it back to the post office and saves it.  When Pigeon was giving me her daily call the day after, she said, "Hey, I called you yesterday about something...what was it?" Ugh. Why is she calling me about anything?!

    This should be read in an angry, demanding way:
    Mapple, this is Pigeon! It is the 1st and I need cable in my apartment.  There's no way somebody stayin' up in here with no cable. That's some... a job, in itself for the building, because you guys are the ones that chose that company, and it's unprofessional.  It's a lot of people up in here having problems with they cable, because they told me, so I need y'all to call the cable people so I can get cable in my apartment. I've been long, like three months? Um, and in this particular apartment, and I was having problems in the other apartment with the cable too.  It shouldn't be like that. I need my cable. On the real. I really do. Um, y'all need to let me know sumn.' Alright. Call me back. I know you know my number for this shit. 213-555-5555. There it is again, and alright Mapple, call me again, and I just put the rent in there, too. Peace...Apartment 801...
    Yeah, I know what unit you live in.  Plus, this shit is between you and the cable company.  You call them.  

    When typing this, I was hesitant to add punctuation, because she just rambles in one long sentence.  This makes it easier to read, and really, you get the idea.

    Tuesday, August 9, 2011

    #28 Jumper

    While sitting on my couch eating Cheez-Its, and I get a call from the resident manager next door:
    "Hey, are you here?"
    "Oh, so you know."
    "No. What."
    "You have a jumper."

    Fan-fucking-tastic.  I actually find this news exhilarating.  As I was running down the stairs, I figured that it was some idiot that found a tall building to jump off of.  Then I got annoyed as to how this idiot got in the building.  After thoughts of annoyances, I realized that that was actually not the case.
    When I got to the lobby, the cops were looking for me.   They wanted me to open a door on the 9th floor.
    "Do you know an Aaron?"
    "Yes, 918, Aaron Green."
    "He's the one on the roof.  We need you to open his door, but don't go in.  We'll do that.  There may be dead bodies."
    "Um, ok."
    I opened the door and they busted in.  There was no one in there but a small dog. While the cops are searching his place, I get on the phone with someone that works at my head office.
    "Hey, you know that tenant that used to always pay late, Aaron Green?"
    (some girl walking by interrupts me) "Did you say Aaron Green?  I know him!"
    (to her) "Well, he's on the roof, (back to the phone) so yeah, he's about to jump, and I don't know what to do..." and I trail off and the chick at the head office tells me to go up, get a police report, and any insurance information (irritated eye roll).
    When I get up to the roof, the cops won't let me by, and the girl that I saw in the hall was freaking the fuck out.
    "What's you're deal?"
    "Aaron is my ex-boyfriend.  I just broke up with him."
    "Eeeh."   I replied.
    What I really wanted to say was "Oh, bitch, this shit is YOUR fault!"

    Since the cops won't let me up the pool area, I know another way where I can watch.  Here's all I could see.

    Just a bunch of cops hanging around.  Turns out, he went over the gate of the pool, and our security guard Naseem and another tenant, that just happened to be at the hot tub, grabbed onto him and held him so he wouldn't fall.  Then the cops came and handcuffed him to the gate.  He was just dangling off the roof. 
    So the cops just held on to him until the fire department came, in which they brought a saw and cut the fence that Aaron climbed over.
    Now, this happens every once in awhile downtown, and cops know the procedure.  Although this has never happened on my building, I've seen it happen to others.  They are mainly hotels.  They block off the streets surrounding the building, and the front of my building looked like this:
    Cops everywhere, standing around.  They have way more important shit to do, but just like anyone else, they love the thrill of a jumper. 
    After they sawed the fence and took custody of the jumper, they put him in the ambulance pictured above and away he went.  He had all these friends in the lobby sobbing and feeling super uncomfortable because tenants were all a buzz ("Someone tried to jump off the roof?! Who is it? That's nuts!") IN TURN, the huddle of crying friends made everyone else feel uncomfortable because it's A GROUP OF SOBBING ADULTS in, what is normally, an empty lobby.

    All the while, this fucking baby is following me around and bothering me.
    "Hey, I know you're busy and all, but I saw all the fire trucks and I thought it was a fire, so I ran out, and now I'm locked out.  Can you let me in?"
    "Yeah, after I talk to the cops, just hold on a second."
    She keeps pestering me, and being super impatient.
    Bitch, I have shit to deal with.  See all the police and fire people around asking me questions?  Back up.  Your pot of boiling water can wait.  Fuck.

    After all was said and done, Aaron was fine.  He apparently doesn't remember much, and he paid his rent on time.  One of my tenants is a part-time paparazzo and he finagled his way onto the roof enough to capture the action and put it on YouTube.  It has a couple hundred thousand hits.  Aaron's friends are not too happy about it.
    They are literally saving his life using the wedgie method.  See how high it is?....shit.

    Tuesday, July 26, 2011

    #27 I Love Lesbian Couples

    And no, I don't mean that in an ignorant straight guy way.  Lesbian couples are THE BEST tenants, and this is solely based on my statistics of annoyances.
    Here's the rundown of the types of babies that live here (and I'm guessing...everywhere):
    • Single Men
    • Single Women (including Single Moms)
    • Young Straight Couples
    • Married Straight Couples (with or without children)
    • Gay Men Couples
    • Lesbian Women Couples
    • Girl Roommates
    • Boy Roommates
    • Mixed Gender Platonic Roommates
    • Fashion Students
    There are many other categories within each category, but let's not get in that.  It would be too long, and I'll probably get angry having to think about these babies. 
    Each and every single one of these categories has given me issues in one way or another with the exception of Monogamous Lesbian Couples.
    These women always pay their rent on time, never call me with stupid bullshit, usually have the coolest units, don't cause noise disturbances, are very cordial to me in the halls, etc. The only issue I've ever had was when the cops were called because there was some domestic dispute, but I didn't have to get involved, so I don't give a shit.   There is even a couple that lives down the hall that I really want to be friends with because they look really cool, and seem to have interesting lives with a diverse group of friends.  I want to be a part of this clique.  I imagine it's like living in a Benetton world. I kind of wish we could only lease to lesbian couples, but (I guess) that's discriminatory.

    Although, if my building became an all-female, anti-men utopia, then this blog wouldn't exist because I wouldn't have to face any of the issues that makes this place a goddamn nightmare.
    The ideal lesbian couple

    Tuesday, July 19, 2011

    #26 Things That Occured This Week

    This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

    Tuesday, July 12, 2011

    #25 More Elevator Signs

    Here are some more elevator signs I recently posted to remind these assholes to pay rent.  (Note: there are sports references in this one. Just go with it.)

     I was feeling really uninspired, so I just recycled my most popular sign from the holidays.  It's been five months.  They're ready to see it again.  Plus, lots of new people have moved in since then, and they never got the pleasure of reading this sign,'s for them.  That's how I justify it. 
    It says "Clip Art is Fun" under the picture, if you can't read that
    I just felt like insulting them in the nicest way.  Did you get that?  What I really wanted to put was,"If you pay late, you are a huge pain in my ass, and I fucking hate you." That's too vague, huh?
    It was also the NBA Finals, so I had to represent in the corner.
    Some asshole baby saw me in my Mavs shirt and said, "so how long have you been a fake Mavs fan?...I don't know why everyone is hatin' on LeBron...We mingle in the same circles..."
    1. Fake Mavs fan?  Fuck you.  Like I'm some bandwagon fan that just liked the Mavs because I hate Lebron.  Like I just went out and bought this shirt.  As if I can even purchase a vintage green Dirk shirt in the streets of LA.  Unless the Dallas Mavericks are called the Los Angeles Lakers, you can't buy a fucking Mavs shirt when you live a few blocks from the Staples Center. 
    2. "Mingle in the same circles"...oh, cool.  The guy that said this to me is an actor. He is most known for his work in a recent remake of a John Waters musical where John Travolta is a tranny.  (He's actually very nice, but fuck him for the sake of this isolated argument.)  Okay, so you're friends with people that are friends with LeBron.  I don't give a shit, because...
    3. I hate LeBron James.  Although, I do want to enroll in his School for Flopping (Zing!). 
    There are a lot of people in the film industry that live in my building, so this was like a wink and nod to them.  I wrote this in the way a script is written out (from what I've read of scripts).  You can't see it as well, but the baby's lines are highlighted.
    I was really looking forward to acting this out in the elevator with someone.  I did once, and it so happened to be another actor.
    Now that I've heard it acted out, it's not very good.  Imagine if this was actual dialogue in a TV show.  I might as well be writing for this season's True Blood.  (Double Zing!  I'll be here all night. Tip your waitresses, everybody.)

    Monday, June 27, 2011

    #24 Gym Conversation

    Preface: I am writing this on the eve of my 30th birthday, in which I am in a state of moderate depression,  looking back at how my 20's went; contemplative about youth in general. 

    Entry: We have a gym in the building.  It's a standard, no frills gym with your usual machines, weights, and a two-person wooden sauna.  It sounds fancy and Euro, right?  It's not.  It's just a hot box.  I hate being up there when other tenants are in there. Usually, I'm trying to work out, and they're just complaining to me about general and personal shit.  There's also those awkward non-verbal acknowledgements and small talk about working out. I hate it.

    The last time I went to workout, there was someone in the sauna singing R&B... and not well.  I thought "that's embarrassing" and got on the elliptical.  A minute in, this guy comes out of the sauna (in street clothing, not gym attire) and asks me,
    "Hey, do you know about music?"
    "Yeah, I guess."
    "Can you listen to me sing this and tell me what you think of the lyrics? I gotta turn this song in tomorrow to Trey Songz's producer.  He said it's gonna be a hit."
    And he starts to sing this R&B song that he's reading from a crumbled up piece of paper. I can't understand a word he's saying, but from what I can tell, it's the standard, terrible slow-jam rhetoric about sex.  After he's done singing, he stares at me, waiting for a response.  I ask to see his lyrics.

    Now in my hand is this notebook paper of chicken scratch and spelling errors of a song titled "Beautiful Romance":
    "I'm gon put your hed on a pillow...make you look rite like a bow gonna be mine..." the usual affair.  I actually give this dude real criticism:
    "You know, the subject isn't anything special, and the guy is basically saying he wants to have sex with this girl, and is that the beautiful romance?  Are you going to hand this to him, because you should type it and present it well.  Also, "right like a bow tie," what does that even mean?  Is it because you are trying to rhyme with a word that sounds like "tie"?  You should rethink that..."
    "Yeah, you're right, I want to make people think..."
    He then goes on and on about how he's a song-writer, a producer, a dancer, developing a vodka where the bottle turns into a bong, and 'working on' owning a few casinos.  He also said he's writing a script, and that he's an actor.
    "Oh, I'm an actor, too.  I am the manager of this building, so I don't have to pay rent and which allows me to be an actor."
    "Oh yeah?  What are you in? I don't live in this building. I live in the building down the street. I come to this gym because it's quieter than my gym, and it lets me concentrate."
    "How do you get in here if you don't live here?"
    "Do you know Jewel Arms?  He's my friend that lets me in.  I also don't have to pay rent either.  It's because I live with my mom.  I'm 16."

    By now, 15 minutes have gone by.  (I know this since I'm on a timed elliptical.)  For 15 minutes, I've been talking to a 16 year old like a fucking adult.  I just thought he was stupid, turns out, he's stupid because he's an idiot teenager.  The moment he tells me his age, I switch into a different mode:
    "You gotta finish school, and go to college, kid!...What do you know about romance anyway?....Maybe you should start small like, aspire to buy a house before you buy a your money."
    I continue telling this kid lessons of life, and by then an additional 15 minutes have gone by, and I've finished my cardio.  
    Turns out, the best way to pass time while exercising is talking to a clueless, name-dropping 16 year old.
    I have no idea who this is.

    Thursday, June 23, 2011

    #23 Tammy the Tattletale

    As I mentioned in the last post, my building is in the shape of a rectangle with half the units facing out and the other half facing in, where their view is looking through the windows of other units.  It's not a great view.  Sound travels and bounces against the walls in the interior court.  If a baby is talking by an open window, everyone with an open window can hear it.  It's especially annoying when people have parties.  I get babies crying about interior neighbor noise, as this is the mundane awfulness that I have to deal with on the daily.

    There is a girl named Tammy that lives in the interior that has recently found out my email, and has decided to bitch about everything.  She's the one that complained about the smell of her neighbor below her that is grilling on his patio, and the smell and smoke of the grill goes into her unit.  She has become the building tattletale.  She's also found out when I get enough complaints about a baby and their noise, I have to slip them a warning and then fine them after a second offense. 
    Tammy has taken it upon herself to be the interior unit police, emailing me at any point in time whenever she hears a noise that bothers her and telling me to fine them.  She's emailed me at all times, like 7pm to 2am, or whatever time she hears a disturbance.  Tammy has become oversensitive and obsessive with noise.  I found her on my floor the other day because she was investigating a noise she heard.  When speaking to her about it, her dog peed in the hall.
    "I'll clean that" she says.  (I checked back a few minutes later, and she did).

    Tammy isn't a bad person.  She's just irritating.  Here is a snippet from one of her long-winded emails:
    "If this noise continues, I'm gonna need you to move us to an outer unit with the same square feet and same rent, because this is something that (not you) but the management failed to inform me before I signed the lease and expecting this to be a quality building, which it was until lately..."
    Right, like that's how it works.  As if this is a hotel, and I accidentally put you in a smoking room.  It's not that easy, bitch.  I know I call them babies, but I can't tell grown ass adults how to live their lives. I can only reiterate rules.  She's been living here for over two years, not a peep from her before this month.    

    I get it.  When something happens to you, you feel as if you should do something about it, but bitching to me is not the solution.  It just makes me hate you. You know what the solution is?  Get the fuck out of my face and move.  
    This bitch is, like, 30.

    Tuesday, June 14, 2011

    #22 Shit

    Well THIS just happened.

    On Tuesdays, the resident manager next door has her day off, so I take her phone.  One of her babies calls me at 7:45pm to let her in because she got locked out.  She agreed to pay, so I get my keys and head to the sister building next door.

    On my way out of my alley door, I see a homeless zombie with his pants down squatting against the trash room door, and just before I could say anything, he had a projectile shit on the door.
    I am incredulous.
    It goes on, and all the while, he continues to shit his runny ass shit as it's hitting my building's trash room door and falling to the ground.  He was saying something to me in Spanish as a response or a rebuttal, but I couldn't understand him, so I just continued to berate him.

    I then run into the lobby to see if Naseem the security guard sees him on the camera and his response is,
    "Oh, that happens all the time.  I just take a bucket and wash it away.  It's usually women homeless that do that against the building..."  He's so casual about it.

    I walk back into the alley to go into the other building to let the next door baby in, and I see the remains of my interaction with the homeless man.  This image is now ingrained into my brain.  I thought about taking a picture for you guys, but I don't want to subject you to it.
    I have ideas in my head about what I could have done to keep him from shitting, like push him over while he was in that position.  Then again, I would have probably caught a glimpse of his dirty homeless ass AS he was shitting and falling over, so maybe it was a good thing I didn't do that.

    After I let the baby next door into her unit, I am still shocked and grossed out.  I head back out through the alley and Naseem has already rinsed it away.  It's not even his job, but he does it.  I go to his security desk to ask him how he did it so quickly, and when I get there, I see he's watching the security footage of me yelling at the homeless guy for entertainment.

    I'm so disturbed.
    I took this  picture with my camera phone of the security camera screen, so it's not the best quality, but you get the idea.  It looks like I'm trying to reason with him, but I didn't want to get too close to him.  I felt like I was right in front of his face, though.

    Monday, June 13, 2011

    #21 Non-Adventures (Annoyances) in Babysitting

    This job sucks so much ass, that I can't even find the humor in it anymore.  It literally sucks the fucking life out of me where I feel numb, and anyone that's ever had a job they hated, you know what I'm talking about.  This post is a little disjointed, but these are all recent annoyances.

    It was the beginning of the month, and the FIRST IS THE WORST.  It's the time where I have to deal with all the babies that moved out and assessing their units, and charging them, to which they get mad when I charge them.  What the fuck do you expect when you leave your place like a shit hole?
    The first is also the time when I have to deal with counting, what seems like, thousands of checks.  Roommates are the worst when it comes to this because they give me multiple checks at different times.
    For example, I have these babies that live in a tiny two bedroom, there's four of them, they are all students.  This is what their checks look like:

    $422.25?  I don't even know how they came to figure this out amongst themselves.  I have to take the extra step of using a calculator.  Now the idea of simple arithmetic annoys me .  Go live in a fucking dorm.  Plus, I think they're trying to pull a fast one and short me a quarter.  That'll teach me. 
    But really, who wouldn't want to use those Hello Kitty checks?
    Babies have also taken it upon themselves to throw shit out of their windows.  The building is shaped like a rectangle, and half of the units' windows face the interior, which is a view of their neighbor across the courtyard.  They've taken the liberty to act like it's Ancient Rome and just throw shit out of their windows into the patios of the people that live in the interior court.  It's mainly hundreds of cigarettes, but the list also includes drum sticks, tax documents, beer cans, someone's cat (granted, this cat probably leapt to it's death, but for the sake of this story, I'm going to saying someone threw a dead cat out a window).  Many a baby has bitched to me about not wanting to clean someone else's mess, and that I need to do it. (Fuck you, you entitled assholes) To which I just post a sign about how you shouldn't throw things out of your window.  I have to actually tell these motherfuckers to not litter.

    Speaking of cats, the high class hooker move out.  She got 'laid off', which...using that wording, is very confusing.  How does one lose their job as a prostitute?  Does she get a severance?  I guess the opposite for her job is to get 'laid on'? Anyway, she left her place really clean, but it reeks of cat.  Ugh...cats.

    Wednesday, June 1, 2011

    Happy Anniversary, You Terrible Goddamn Job

    This doesn't deserve a blog number.  I just want to mark this day as my one-year anniversary with this stupid place full of over-privileged babies.
    It's not even a commemoration.  It's more marking the day you noticed you have a wart on your arm that you've been picking at for a year now.  You hate it, but you live with it...until the day you decide to burn the fucking place down, or..wait, what?  I meant freeze it off.  I'm sticking with wart references. 
    It was either a burning building or a frozen wart, and that shit is gross, so I went with this photo. Seriously, google "Frozen Wart" and you will not be happy with your decision.

    Thursday, May 26, 2011

    #21 Much Needed Vacation

    I was on vacation in a tropical paradise, so I have not posted.  It was a much needed vacation.  (Allow me to turn into your dad for a moment; Gas is cheaper in Hawaii than it is in L.A.  It's a goddamn island, and it takes more effort to get gas there, yet it costs less than mainland Los Angeles? Ugh.)

    Of course, this awful job would not allow me to transition into going on vacation easily.  It is a fully charged suck fest until the very last moment.
    • Pigeon won't leave me alone because she is transferring units
    • Bosh Bischer still parks in my building, so I had to hunt down his parking rent
    • Some bitchy baby in an interior court unit was bitching about how she is going to call the fire marshall because she doesn't like her neighbor grilling as the smell gets into her place.  I told her that I don't bitch about the Chinese take-out place across the street that smells up my place when I open the window. 
    • One tenant was out of town, and her hose busted on her patio, which flooded it, and leaked into the unit below.  
    My shoes (on the table) got ruined, as my feet were underwater
    It wasn't draining correctly, so there was a hole the size of an orange that I had to push all the water through, which spilled down into the alley.  It looked like this:
    I was brooming water out for an hour
    For the first day while I was on vacation, I kept hearing my baby monitor ringing.  I was so paranoid.  I had to remind myself that it was not in my possession, and I was on a fucking airplane. I needed to fucking relax.
    It was a blissful four days, and then I come back to:
    • Pigeon waking me up at 8am
    • A bunch of emails from babies complaining about their neighbors being too loud 
    • Jewel Arms complaining about how he scraped his truck in the garage because he's a terrible driver, like that shit is my fault
    • I had an eviction the following morning, that also woke me up.  They were trying to move all their shit out before they got locked out, so their shit was all over the hallways.  This is also on the floor I live on.
    Shit blocking the elevators

    Shit blocking the stairwell.  Let's not leave all those Maxims, now.
    Needless to say, I wasn't allowed to transition slowly back into this awful gig from vacation either.  It was more like a violent jolt back into this job.  I hate it so much.

    Friday, May 13, 2011

    #20 Pigeon III: More calls

    So this JUST happened:

    Pigeon: Mapple, you gotta tell that girl that lives down next to me to close her window.  She is walkin' 'round in a G-String.  It's a good thing the windows are too high for my son to see.  I got guests, and they all lookin' at that girl.
    Me: Ok, I guess I can tell her to close her blinds when I see her
    Pigeon: I know she gay.
    Me: Oh?
    Pigeon: Yeah, she got that girl living with her.
    Me: I thought that was her roommate
    Pigeon: No, that's her girlfriend.  I can hear them have sex all the time.  One of them is strappin' somethin' on.  

    She's also developed into calling me for no reason.
    Pigeon: Hey Mapple, you got some beautiful units up in this.
    Me: Yeah, I guess. What are you talking about?
    Pigeon: I saw that one you got vacant on the 10th floor.  It's bigger than mine, huh?
    Me: No.  It's actually 200 square feet smaller than yours
    Pigeon: Oh yeah?  It's got a nice view.
    Me: Ok.  Is that it?
    Pigeon: Yeah...

    I decided to not answering her calls anymore because they are such a waste of time.  She tends to just talk and repeat.  She has no edit button.  I have saved this angry message she left.  This is verbatim:
    "Mapple!  Can somebody call back, because all of a sudden  nobody ain't callin' my phone back when I leave messages in the leasing office and what not.  I need somebody to come up in here because the bathroom over flooded with water, and it got into the bedroom so I need the maintenance guy to come up here to mop...this ASAP.  Pigeon.  Bye."
    She flooded her own bathroom, and wanted our maintenance dude to clean it up for her.  Fuck that.  I told him not to, but he did it anyway because he didn't want to hear her bitch.
    I get that. 

    Friday, May 6, 2011

    #19 Security: Things Naseem Says

    My favorite security guard, let's call him Naseem, is always full of stories.  He's the mid-afternoon/evening guard, and is the eyes and ears of this building.  He sits at the front desk and greets people, sees them come and go, chit-chats with them when they get their mail, helps them with anything...etc.  He's been here longer than I have, and knows the babies better.  When the babies cry to me, they are either complaining, want something, or are on their best behavior because they've done something wrong.   Naseem gets them for all the other times. 

    Naseem: "Did you hear about that girl in 407?  That black girl with the hair?  She's a hooker.  I see her in the day, walk out in little shorts down the street and get picked up by cars.  She's prostituting...I know it."
    Me: "You mean Jenny?  She's a student."
    Naseem: "Yeah, but how she make money?  She's a street walker, that's how."

    He also likes to show me things on the security camera.
    "Look at this camera see that light speck?  That's a ghost.  I went into the basement, and I swear I saw a ghost.  Too many ghosts here!" 
    "Did you see that guy letting his dog shit in the alley and not pick it up?  Watch this...look at me, you see me yelling at him, and he's cursing at me, but I make him pick it up. Stupid son-of-a-bitch."

    Other things:
    "Hey Mapple, did hear about Pearl in 115?  She prostitutes on the internet. These two ugly dudes came in asking for her, and I was suspicious, so I walked them to her door and she opens the door, sticks out her hand, they gave her money, and she let them in.  Those dudes were disgusting."

    "That Pigeon...she beats her kid.  I know it.  That cute little kid.  I've heard him scream, "No, Mommy, don't!" and I feel really sorry for that poor kid.  She beats him, I KNOW it!  I bought him a Gameboy, he's a good kid"

    "Hey, you know that Jeff in 1103?  He came up to me and asked me if could go to the hot tub area on the roof and watch him and his wife have sex.  He said his wife likes it when authority is watching.  I said no, that's sick, and the pool and hot tub area are closed at 10pm."

    What's amusing is that he doesn't just tell this to me.  He'll tell anyone that walks by.  Naseem is like our building's gossip queen, know-it-all that works for the school 'zine, and thinks he'll grow up to be a journalist one day...but alas, he is a middle aged security guard in a stupid building full of assholes.
    The Google Image search for "gossip" yields amusing stock photos

    Tuesday, April 26, 2011

    #18 Bosh Bischer is gone!

    If you recall, the biggest asshole in my building is Bosh Bischer.  He left to go to Brazil for several months, and he came back in February.  He made his presence known when he came back because he called and emailed me every other day about transferring to a different unit.
    I had to take the time to show him every unit I had or ones that were coming up, to have him haggle with me on each and every single one.

    Me: You can't downgrade within your lease unless you find someone to replace you, and they have to sign a new lease
    Bosh: Just do me a favor, baby.  Find someone for me.  
    Me: No, the whole point is for you to do all the work, because I get nothing out of this helping you out.  
    Bosh: Fine, I'll just upgrade.  This show I produced just got picked up by the Oprah channel.  I just got a check for $40,000.
    Me: Okay, which one do you want to upgrade to?
    Bosh: One of the penthouses
    Me: I don't have a penthouse available
    Bosh: How about that one on the 3rd floor, how much is it?
    Me: It's $1950
    Bosh: I'll take it if you can get it to me for $1695 and you paint the stairs red for me.
    Me: No
    ---------------one week later--------------
    Bosh: Hey Mapple, can you give me that unit on the 10th floor that I saw?
    Me: No, it's a downgrade. You can't downgrade.
    Bosh: Help me out, Mapple. We're friends!  I'm broke.  I can't afford my place anymore.
    He says this shit, completely forgetting how he told me how much money he had a week prior.

    Bosh continues to text, email and call me non stop about transferring to a cheaper unit, and getting two other tenants involved, which end up not wanting to deal with him, and instead complain about him to me.  This bullshit goes on for two months.   It's all an unneeded pain in my ass.
    I get an email from one of my fellow resident managers in another one of our buildings:

    Hi Mapple ,
    Hope all is well.
    So, Bosh Bischer wants to transfer into my PH10 here. It’s listed at $2000. He wants to see if he can rent it at $1800.
    Let me know what you need from me.
    Thanks, Natalie 

    Holy Shit. All is well.  Bosh decides to just go to another one of our buildings!  This is one of the best emails I could ever receive.  
    I think it's over, but, of course, it's not.  He is still downgrading, which is not allowed, so I have to set up a meeting for him to talk to my boss.   He annoys my boss so much, that the boss just lets him transfer over, without finding a replacement, but doesn't reduce the rent.  
    This news, of course, makes me insanely happy to get this fucker out of my building.  Bosh, however, does not leave quietly. 
    *ring ring*
    Me: Hey, you need to sign your new lease
    Bosh: Come up to my place
    Me: No, I'm not there, and you should come to the office
    I find myself on his floor doing other shit anyway, and I go to his place, he's not there.
    Me: Where are you?  You said you'd be at your place
    Bosh: I'm on the rooftop at the pool. Come up.
    I'm so anxious to just get him the fuck out, so I meet him at the rooftop pool.  He's just lounging around, and I'm making him sign papers while he's sunning.  At this moment, I realize how much of a servant I look and feel like.  
    Bosh: Hey, do you see my arms?  I've been working out.
    Me: That's great, Bosh, just hurry up.
    Bosh: Wait, this says 12-month, I just wanted a 6-month lease!
    Then he proceeds to call my head office to bitch, and they said he can't have a 6 month lease.  This is taking up more annoying time.  Then one of my other tenants jumps in the pool.
    Bosh: Who the fuck does this guy think he is?  Doesn't he see I'm signing papers?  What a dumbass...
    Me: Bosh, just sign the fucking lease.  I have to go.
    And after a few more minutes of trying to convince him to sign his lease, he finally signs it.  This, however, is not as blissful as I thought it would be, because by then, I was sweaty from being on the rooftop in a sweater, angry that he's wasted so much of my time, and I had to hurry to an audition.  

    After all of this, this motherfucker is FINALLY gone from my building.  The witch is dead!

    The other resident manager calls me:
    Me: Now someone else understands the suffering I had to go through.  I'm free!
    Natalie: I hate you.
    Me: I know.  I'm sorry.  

    Now I have another guy that has inherited the asshole crown.  He's four notches down on the asshole pole from Bosh, so it's not that bad.  More about that guy later. 

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