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| It seems like there's a pizza theme. There isn't. Each elevator had a different mad lib filled in. Fun right? |
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| January |
See the extent I go to inform/entertain these babies? What do I get in return?
Dog piss in the hallways.
Thanks.
Monday, February 28, 2011
#10 More Signs
Here are some more signs from November, December and January that I've thought up for these ungrateful babies:
Again, I post these up because when people pay late I have to do extra leg work, and knock on their doors to serve them notices. I really hate doing this. It's very time consuming.
See the extent I go to inform/entertain these babies? What do I get in return?
Dog piss in the hallways.
Thanks.
See the extent I go to inform/entertain these babies? What do I get in return?
Dog piss in the hallways.
Thanks.
Friday, February 18, 2011
#9 Couch
A tenant, let's name her Unit 815, kept calling me for advice on moving. She was moving to New York, and I was helping her out because she had never made the move and was all scared. She needed all the help she could get. I've made this cross-country move before, so I'm basically a pro. Why wouldn't she ask me?
She was selling all of her furniture, but she couldn't sell her couch. At the time, I needed a couch, specifically, a microfiber, dark gray sectional with a chaise. She had exactly a microfiber, dark gray sectional with a chaise. Fucking perfect. I went to look at it, and it was pretty much what I wanted, but I didn't feel like paying her $300 for it, so I said forget it.
815: What am I going to do with this couch? I can't sell it, and I'm moving tomorrow.
Me: You can just leave it, and we can have maintenance take it out for you. I won't charge you the moving fee since you are already so stressed about your move.
The next day, I get a call:
815: So my sister and I figured she could just keep the couch in her garage, but she went in the unit last night because she has spare keys to get it, and it was gone. Did you take it?
Me: (Panic-ey) Um...no. I had maintenance clean up already.
815: Oh no, do you think we can get it back?
Me: Uh no, 815, it's already gone to the trash.
815: But it's Sunday, the trash people don't come on Sundays.
Me: Yeah...but it's in the dumpster area already...where we dump dirty old mattresses...with bedbugs and stuff. You wouldn't want it back now.
815: oh, that's too bad.
Me: Oh man, had I known...I wish I would have taken it so you can have it back, but there's no turning back once it's in the dumpster area.
815: Oh, ok. Well, thanks so much anyway!
GREAT. Now I have a broken tobacco couch and I feel super guilty for stealing her shit.
(Which, whatever, she turned in her keys, which means she relinquishes her unit and everything in it. Her sister isn't supposed to have keys. What's that bitch doing with keys still? )
A few days later I get an email: "815 has requested to be your friend on Facebook. Accept/Decline"
I accept because I feel bad. I can never have pictures of me or anyone sitting on this couch posted.
Side Note: I have since blocked her on FB, so she'll have no way of reading this.
Another Side Note: This couch was far from being "free" as every time I sat on the couch and caught a whiff of the smoke, I felt bad. This went on for months.
We had to open it up to repair the broken frame. I had it steam cleaned TWICE to get the smoke smell out of it, as well as take off all the covers to wash it, and sew up the tiny burn holes riddled in the couch. For weeks, we had couch parts airing out in my loft. The cigarette smell was so deeply embedded, months later I still get whiffs of smoke. I guess I deserve that.
But hey, now that the feeling of guilt has subsided, look at this couch, huh?!
She was selling all of her furniture, but she couldn't sell her couch. At the time, I needed a couch, specifically, a microfiber, dark gray sectional with a chaise. She had exactly a microfiber, dark gray sectional with a chaise. Fucking perfect. I went to look at it, and it was pretty much what I wanted, but I didn't feel like paying her $300 for it, so I said forget it.
815: What am I going to do with this couch? I can't sell it, and I'm moving tomorrow.
Me: You can just leave it, and we can have maintenance take it out for you. I won't charge you the moving fee since you are already so stressed about your move.
I say this because I'm fully aware that if she leaves it, it's mine...for free. I call it a "Move-Out Special".
She moves out, turns in her keys, and the next day, my BF and I go to her unit and take it. It was a bitch, because this sectional was kind of huge.
I am so happy to have the couch we wanted, and not have to pay for it.
Upon sitting on it, I realize it is sunken-in in the middle, as the wooden frame is broken in half. There are little holes all over it, due to cigarette burns. Plus, this fucking couch reeks of cigarette smoke. I tried taking the cover off of it to wash it, and inside the crevices of the couch are whole cigarettes just marinating the couch with the stench of tobacco. The next day, I get a call:
815: So my sister and I figured she could just keep the couch in her garage, but she went in the unit last night because she has spare keys to get it, and it was gone. Did you take it?
Me: (Panic-ey) Um...no. I had maintenance clean up already.
815: Oh no, do you think we can get it back?
Me: Uh no, 815, it's already gone to the trash.
815: But it's Sunday, the trash people don't come on Sundays.
Me: Yeah...but it's in the dumpster area already...where we dump dirty old mattresses...with bedbugs and stuff. You wouldn't want it back now.
815: oh, that's too bad.
Me: Oh man, had I known...I wish I would have taken it so you can have it back, but there's no turning back once it's in the dumpster area.
815: Oh, ok. Well, thanks so much anyway!
GREAT. Now I have a broken tobacco couch and I feel super guilty for stealing her shit.
(Which, whatever, she turned in her keys, which means she relinquishes her unit and everything in it. Her sister isn't supposed to have keys. What's that bitch doing with keys still? )
A few days later I get an email: "815 has requested to be your friend on Facebook. Accept/Decline"
I accept because I feel bad. I can never have pictures of me or anyone sitting on this couch posted.
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| The Actual Couch |
Another Side Note: This couch was far from being "free" as every time I sat on the couch and caught a whiff of the smoke, I felt bad. This went on for months.
We had to open it up to repair the broken frame. I had it steam cleaned TWICE to get the smoke smell out of it, as well as take off all the covers to wash it, and sew up the tiny burn holes riddled in the couch. For weeks, we had couch parts airing out in my loft. The cigarette smell was so deeply embedded, months later I still get whiffs of smoke. I guess I deserve that.
But hey, now that the feeling of guilt has subsided, look at this couch, huh?!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
#8 Lockouts and Babies
One of the jobs I have to do is let people in their units when they get locked out. Of course, they are charged for this. Babies will call me at all hours of the night to make me open their doors, but again, it comes with a price.
A lot of people fight me about it, which is obnoxious because if you got a locksmith to open the shit for you it would cost way more than the $20 or $40 I charge for wasting my fucking time. There's this one bitch on the 5th floor, every time I see her, I think about how she has yet to pay me for a lockout at 11pm one evening. I never forget, bitch.
My favorites are the super drunk babies that call me with their drunken tales of how they lost their keys, which can sometimes be amusing. I just like watching drunk people give me money. This one tenant was stumbling in heels, in the way any drunk girl does, holding onto the walls and shit, and she tells me she got towed, paid for a cab, realized the keys were in her towed car, so I had to let her in. On top of that shit, I made her pay me. Expensive night.
The thing is, when you are at a job, everyone else around you is at their job, but not me. I am at the job when everyone is home. I get no professionalism, and I see who these motherfuckers are at home, with no makeup, in their underwear. The real them. It's a weird environment to be in.
A lot of people fight me about it, which is obnoxious because if you got a locksmith to open the shit for you it would cost way more than the $20 or $40 I charge for wasting my fucking time. There's this one bitch on the 5th floor, every time I see her, I think about how she has yet to pay me for a lockout at 11pm one evening. I never forget, bitch.
My favorites are the super drunk babies that call me with their drunken tales of how they lost their keys, which can sometimes be amusing. I just like watching drunk people give me money. This one tenant was stumbling in heels, in the way any drunk girl does, holding onto the walls and shit, and she tells me she got towed, paid for a cab, realized the keys were in her towed car, so I had to let her in. On top of that shit, I made her pay me. Expensive night.
The thing is, when you are at a job, everyone else around you is at their job, but not me. I am at the job when everyone is home. I get no professionalism, and I see who these motherfuckers are at home, with no makeup, in their underwear. The real them. It's a weird environment to be in.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
#7 Security Poop Again
It happened again this Sunday. The worthless Sunday security guard calls me about shit in the alley doorway.
This time, there was no shovel in the trash room, so I had to be resourceful, and use a Dominoes Pizza box. The dumpster door is right next to the alley side door, so it's convenient.
This time it was also on the wall. There's a faucet in the dumpster, but I couldn't find a hose, so I filled up a champagne bottle from the recycling bin. I was pouring water onto the shit-stained wall so the flies would go away. It looks like I was being super fancy and just pouring champagne on a building...like it's a fucking celebration.
I spoke to one of my tenants, and he said he mentioned it to the security guard. The worthless guard responded to him with "I call the manager. I don't want to clean it. I could get sick!"...so by all means, let the manager girl that just woke up clean it and get sick. I can't believe I bought him breakfast on X-Mas day. I take that apple turnover back, motherfucker.
I yelled at him, telling him to watch the camera to make sure the zombies don't loiter around, because they will piss and crap around the building. He says something like it was there before he got there at 7am. Moments later, I walk around the corner and there's a crazy bag lady digging through three huge bags of trash she brought into our alley.
"DUDE! I told you to watch for homeless people in the alley. There's one there RIGHT NOW. Go shoo her away!"
He has this fucking smug little smile on this face and says, "Ok, I do it right now..."
THE WORST.
This time, there was no shovel in the trash room, so I had to be resourceful, and use a Dominoes Pizza box. The dumpster door is right next to the alley side door, so it's convenient.
This time it was also on the wall. There's a faucet in the dumpster, but I couldn't find a hose, so I filled up a champagne bottle from the recycling bin. I was pouring water onto the shit-stained wall so the flies would go away. It looks like I was being super fancy and just pouring champagne on a building...like it's a fucking celebration.
I spoke to one of my tenants, and he said he mentioned it to the security guard. The worthless guard responded to him with "I call the manager. I don't want to clean it. I could get sick!"...so by all means, let the manager girl that just woke up clean it and get sick. I can't believe I bought him breakfast on X-Mas day. I take that apple turnover back, motherfucker.
I yelled at him, telling him to watch the camera to make sure the zombies don't loiter around, because they will piss and crap around the building. He says something like it was there before he got there at 7am. Moments later, I walk around the corner and there's a crazy bag lady digging through three huge bags of trash she brought into our alley.
"DUDE! I told you to watch for homeless people in the alley. There's one there RIGHT NOW. Go shoo her away!"
He has this fucking smug little smile on this face and says, "Ok, I do it right now..."
THE WORST.
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| Actual Alley |
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| As you can see, this little alcove is the perfect place for a homeless guy to shit |
Thursday, February 3, 2011
#6 Refrigerator
In my second month at this stupid job, I walked by this unit that had notices all over it from the US Census as well as the old manager before me. I looked on my list of tenants, and it said that unit was empty. I took it upon myself to open it, and it was basically abandoned with a bed, shoes, and other furniture in it. It smelled like sweat, but whatever, I left it.
The next day, I went back because I wanted to look at the bed again. I thought maybe I should take it, as I need a new bed and it looked kind of cool (not the mattress, just the bed. I'm not gross). I went in with my leasing agent...let's call her Charlotte. Charlotte and I were checking the place out. Before we looked at anything, we opened the fridge first. I like looking through the fridge because people leave beer, and I always take it.
As we opened the fridge together, we discovered both the freezer and the fridge were crawling, nay INFESTED, with maggots, flies, and who else knows what other vermin. I screamed and slammed the fridge closed. Charlotte ran out into the hall to dry heave, and I was left standing in awe, with a face of death.
The next day, I went back because I wanted to look at the bed again. I thought maybe I should take it, as I need a new bed and it looked kind of cool (not the mattress, just the bed. I'm not gross). I went in with my leasing agent...let's call her Charlotte. Charlotte and I were checking the place out. Before we looked at anything, we opened the fridge first. I like looking through the fridge because people leave beer, and I always take it.
As we opened the fridge together, we discovered both the freezer and the fridge were crawling, nay INFESTED, with maggots, flies, and who else knows what other vermin. I screamed and slammed the fridge closed. Charlotte ran out into the hall to dry heave, and I was left standing in awe, with a face of death.
Turns out, the guy abandoned the place two months ago, and it just so happened that the fridge that was filled with perishable foods also decided to stop working. It made for a wonderful combination. Needless to say, I didn't take the bed.
Of course, we threw away the fridge and bug bombed the whole joint. Someone else lives there now, unaware of the terror that is THE MAGGOT FRIDGE.
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| Face of Death |
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| Fridge |
