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Thursday, January 26, 2012

#40 Hero

I'm moderately sick and my internet in the office is down, so I decide to just watch TV in my place and do jack shit.
*ring ring*
"Hey, it's Dennis in #527.  Can security go to my unit?"
"I'll do it.  What is it?"
"My ex-girlfriend is in there and I think she's trying to hurt herself."
*sigh* "What do you want me to do?"
"Call me back when you get there."

I don't mind doing this as much because I live on the same floor, so it's just a simple walk down the hall.  How bad can it be?  I get to the unit and hear sobbing.  After knocking with no answer, I bust in and see an empty apartment.
Now imagine a girl sitting at the bottom of the stairs crying, yelling on the phone, and feverishly sawing at her wrist with a steak knife.
"Uhhhh....you need to stop that."
She ignores me and continues to scream into her phone.  I'm inching my way towards her to take the knife away, but I'm a little scared. Since she isn't bleeding everywhere, it must be dull, however, it's still pointy enough to stab.  She's in hysterics as she hangs up her phone, throws herself onto the stairs in the most dramatic way, and drops the knife.  I quickly grab the knife and put it far from her reach.
By now, the security guard has come in to help.  He tries to calm her while I call back Dennis.
"Hey, she's in here freaking out."
"Let me talk to her."
I really do not want to give her my phone because I fear she's going to go into a fit of rage and throw it.  I hand it to her anyway.
She grabs the phone and immediately starts screaming into it:
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER. YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT.  I HATE YOU....NO, NO, FUCK YOU!"
I yank the phone back,
"Dennis, where are you?  You need to come deal with this."
"I'm at the airport."
She chimes in, "THAT FUCKER IS LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING ME! HE TRIED TO KILL ME!"
"Are you hearing this, dude? What do you want me to do?  Also, you have clearly moved out and I need all copies of your keys...."
I look over and the crazy bitch is pilfering through her purse.  She finds a smaller knife and starts hacking at her wrists again.  The security guard says, "Where did that other one come from?" and takes it away from her.  (into the phone)
"Oh goddamn it, Dennis, she has another knife"
"Put her on the phone again."
I stand near her and put it on speakphone instead.
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?! WE WERE ENGAGED! I HAD ANOTHER MISCARRIAGE  BECAUSE OF YOU. (to me) HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE PAID LATE? ISN'T HE SUCH AN ASSHOLE?!"
(Dennis responds over speakerphone) "What does that have to do with anything?"
"HAVEN'T YOU HEARD COMPLAINTS ABOUT HIM? HE CHASED ME DOWN THE ALLEY WITH A KNIFE AND SAYS HE'S GOING TO KILL ME.  LOOK AT WHAT HE SENDS ME!"
She pulls out her phone, and goes through the photos.
"LOOK AT THIS!" and she proceeds to scroll through her pictures, she can't find what she's looking for, so all I'm seeing is her posing in club clothes. Finally she stops at one photo of Dennis holding a knife to his neck.
"SEE, THIS! THIS IS THE KIND OF SHIT HE SENDS ME!  I HAD THREE MISCARRIAGES WITH HIM IN THE LAST TWO YEARS!"
Taking it off speakerphone,
"Dennis, I'm getting her out of here.  What she does when he leaves is not my problem."
I make her turn over the keys, and while doing so, I notice her wrists are all red and scraped up.  
The security guard makes her gather her things, escorts her to the door, and out she goes. 

I'm imagining she's out there now, bruised and cut up due to failed, halfhearted attempts to commit suicide, eating pancakes at IHOP and crying.

*Later on, when I was telling this story to my leasing agent, Charlotte, she says,
"Mapple!  You're a hero!"
"If being generally annoyed while incredibly indifferent about a dumb girl's self destruction makes me a hero, then yes, I'm a goddamn hero."
Check out that dried blood at the tip.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

#39 Pigeon VI

Let's begin the new year like we did last year with our favorite tenant, Pigeon.

She has been on a roll in recent months about how much she wants to transfer to a bigger unit even though she's already transferred.  She is the kind of person who wants what she can't have.
We have an open house every weekend, and every weekend she will call me with something along the lines of...
"Yo Mapple, what's up with this unit?  Why is it so cheap, it looks bigger than mine."
"It's not bigger, it just looks bigger because it's empty."
or
"Why this unit gotta be so expensive?"
"...because it's 1,200 square feet and is on the 10th floor with a view."
"Yeah, but it ain't need to be that expensive."
"Tell that to the City of Los Angeles."

Her next door neighbors recently upgraded to a small penthouse.  They told me they were glad to move away from her because she would knock on their door several times a day either to have the husband fix something for her or show her how to do something on the computer.
A text exchange between them went like this:
Pigeon: Can Mark come 2 fix my washer? It's broke.
Neighbor: My husband can't do that. Call Maintenance.
I understand why she goes to the nice Christian family next door, as Pigeon dislikes my maintenance guy.  She treats him like a servant (not cool), thinks he's racist (wrong), and thinks he doesn't like her (the only thing she's ever gotten right).  

This weekend, when the family moved out, she calls me:
"Hey Mapple, I'm glad that my friends (heh) are moving to the Penthouse."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"You didn't show interest, and you don't qualify for it. How could you think I could just give it to you?"
then other random things were said, and we hung up.
Moments later...*ring ring*
"Yo Mapple!  It's Pigeon.  Why you gotta say I don't qualify for shit, when I wanted that penthouse?"
"Pigeon, we've gone through this.  You only qualify for a certain amount based on your income, plus you said that penthouse was too small for you, and you never put down anything saying you wanted it."
"I told you I liked it."
"I can't save a unit for you because you like it."
"Things have changed.  I make more money."
"Well you have to prove that to me..."
"I didn't say it was too small, you said it was too small for me. I could have turned that closet into another room."
And she continues to blather on, basically accusing me of calling her poor and choosing that family instead of her. It's totally unreasonable, and I don't know why I even pick up the phone.  Although I've done that before.  She'll just call from a restricted number because she knows I won't answer if I know it's her. 

On a more hilarious note, her "friends," the neighbors that moved to get away from her, sent me a link to...get this...Pigeon's MUSIC VIDEO.  I was not aware of her rap career, until the other day we were in the elevator together and she said, 
"Yo, they playin' my song in clubs now."
"Good for you."
Every part of my being wants to link you this video or tell you the name, but I can't because it's so easy  to track it back.  Plus, Pigeon's anonymous, guys.  Let's keep it that way.  
I will give you a morsel, though.
Oh yes.  That blue spacesuit exists, and it's fabulous.  
I will regale you with a play by play, and my thoughts on this music video another time.  Stay tuned.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Happy New Year/One Year Anniversary

Dear gang,

Happy new year.   I've posted a whole year's worth of terrible stories of my shitty job for your amusement.  If you don't already subscribe, please do, and tell your friends.
I want to thank my former tenant that essentially gave me the idea of this blog, "Gonald Dlover."
I was helping him take the last things out of his unit when he said to me, "You should really write this shit down." With that statement, begat awfulgig.com. 
I want to say, "Here's to another year of horror stories," but really, how long do I want to do this job as I barely have any soul left for it to suck out. 
What I will say is, "Thank you for moderately amusing yourself by reading my blog.  You're the best."
Notice how I didn't put "best" in quotes?  You know I mean it. 
Love, 
Mapple 

 
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