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?
No
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*
OH GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!
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.
