#10 More Signs

Here are some more signs from November, December and January that I've thought up for these ungrateful babies:

 It seems like there's a pizza theme.  There isn't.  Each elevator had a different mad lib filled in. Fun right?

January

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.

#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.  

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.   

The Actual Couch

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?!

#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. 

#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.

Actual Alley

As you can see, this little alcove is the perfect place for a homeless guy to shit

#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.

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.

Face of Death

Fridge

#5 Womanizers Flood

My work phone is this simple piece of shit:

This is actually much better than the phone I had prior to this "upgrade," which was this relic. (Nextel.  Remember them?  Push to talk, y'all.)

Instead of a phone, I call it a baby monitor.

"Wah. My fridge doesn't work!"

"Boo Hoo. I locked myself out."

"Someone's parking in my spot. Harumph!"

"WAH.  I'm hot! Teach me how to use the A/C."

The baby call I hate most is "My place is flooded."
This has happened on more than one occasion.  The most memorable was one at 2:30 am on a Saturday night.  I was passed out from a night of drinking.
*Ring Ring*
Me: ugh...hello...
Tenant: Hey, Mapple, it's raining in our place.
Me: Let me put some pants on, and I'll be up there.

I go up to the 11th floor, and their place, is indeed raining.  The floors are concrete, and concrete is porous.  If the unit above has a lot of water on the floor, then it will leak straight into the unit below.  I go to the penthouse unit directly above them to see what was going on.
After knocking on the door, and no answer, I bust in with my master key.  I am allowed to do this, as it is considered an emergency.
Upon entering, I am standing in a shallow pool of water covering the entire floor.  I then hear
"Who's there? *splash splash* Oh shit, there's water everywhere." 

Turns out, this tenant's toilet is flooding, and has been for however long it takes to flood an 880 sqft space.  The dumb bitch was just sleeping through it.  She's all distraught because her laptop is ruined, as it was laying on the floor. She tells me she's a singer-songwriter, all of her music was on it, and she's never backed up her hard-drive.

Now, when I hear singer-songwriter, I think of a girl singing about ex-boyfriends to tourists with her guitar case open for tips.  What singer-songwriter can afford a penthouse? Apparently, the one that wrote this song.

She calls her husband and explains to him that the toilet was "just silently flooding." BULLSHIT.  You know that noise that toilets make when they're running. It is most definitely not silent.
In my drunken stupor, I just start soaking up water with towels.  I call maintenance, and he comes over 20 minutes later to mop it up.  I'm drunk, tired, wet from the knees down, and very angry, as that bitch just sits on her spiral staircase complaining about her computer and taking shots of Patron.  Not helping, not offering.

The culprit of the toilet flood was a maxi pad lodged in the pipe.  Every woman over the age of 13 knows you are not supposed to flush that shit.  

After that gets cleaned up, I then have to deal with the guys in the unit below, and the water that has leaked into their place.  Insurance matters ensue, and it's a huge bitch.

There went 2.5 hours of precious, drunken sleep-time.
This job sucks.

#4 Elevator Signs

When people pay late, you have to knock on their door and tape up a 3-Day Notice, which means they have to pay in three days or they will be sent to eviction.  It's a shitty legal aspect to my job that I can go to court for if I don't do it correctly.  It's also super time consuming, and generally irritating. 

In my first month, I had to knock on a lot of people's doors asking them why they haven't paid rent and to give them their notice.  The majority of what they had to say was "I forgot."  That excuse is stupid because everyone knows that rent is due on the first everywhere, during your entire life as a renter. 

The second month here, when rent was due, I decided to post a notice as a reminder to pay their goddamn rent.  We have three elevators, and I put one sign in each elevator.  I didn't want to sound like I'm nagging them or make it seem too corporate, so I decided to make a sign that was more of a friendly reminder.  See, I'm not a total asshole. Yet, I still do this for my benefit, so I don't have to go knocking on a bunch of doors.

This was my first one:

People seemed to get a kick out of it, and it sort of worked.  I had less people to give notices to.  The head office bitched about the beer reference, as they didn't want to promote a 'frat house' vibe to the building.  Understandable.  The next month, I changed it to this:

People are assholes.  They will just rip down my signs.  There's the occasional penis drawn on there, which I find amusing, but I know it's inappropriate. I'll take those down and replace it with a fresh one.  It's when people just fucking rip the shit down is what annoys the fuck out of me.  I take my time to make these clever-ass signs, and you just reject it by ripping it down.  I print extras because I know this will happen.

The next month, I figured that the last two template of sign was too wordy for the average ride up the elevator.  I shortened it to this:

I get pretty good feedback from these signs.  I've even been told people look forward to them.  One of my tenants posts the signs on his facebook page, and tells me there are many adoring comments.  The irony is, this dude pays late all the time.  The whole point of this shit is to remind you to pay your rent, so I don't have to take the extra step and knock on your door.  It's not to just amuse you assholes.  It's to benefit me, so I can do less work.
Fuck.

#3 Security: Jerry

In the overnight shift is Jerry.  Jerry is actually a good guard.  Too good.  He's this super tall, muscular man, but dumb as bricks.  I don't think he understands that I'm not the 'night manager,' I'm just THE resident manager.  He will call me at all hours of the night for no fucking reason.  He cares a little too much.
I see a call from Security in the middle of the night, I think it's some kind of emergency.  Not with Jerry.

*ring, ring*
Me: Hello.
Jerry:  Hey, Mapple, it's Jerry from Security
Me: What do you want.
Jerry: There is a loud beeping that's going on every few minutes from a unit down here, should I go in and check it out?
Me: No, it's just a fire alarm that needs a new battery.  Is that it?
Jerry: yes

another time

*ring ring*
Me: Yes, what.
Jerry: Hey Mapple, it's Jerry from Security
Me: Yeah, I know
Jerry: There is a leak in the garage
Me: Is it a big leak, is water everywhere?
Jerry: No, it's just a drip.  I thought I'd let you know...

Please keep in mind, I don't do maintenance.  Does he think I'm going to jump out of bed with a wrench to fix a leak in the basement where no one lives at 3am?

When UPS and FedEx come to the building, and the people aren't home, they leave it in this room behind security so people can pick it up later.

*ring ring*
Me: uh-huh
Jerry: Hey Mapple, it's Jerry from Security
Me: right, what?
Jerry: There are a lot of packages in the back room
Me: it's very late, Jerry, did one of them explode or something?
Jerry: No, there is just a lot more than usual.
Me: It's the holidays, everyone is gone.  Is that it?
Jerry: yes

 I fucking hate Jerry.

#2 Security: Poop

At the front desk of my building sits a security guard.  They usually deal with checking guests in, noise complaints, receiving packages.  Generally useless.

I love the two main guards during normal business hours , but on the weekends the security company sends in the oldest,  non-English speaking guards.  They suck so hard.  If there were an actual occurrence where there was a real security issue, I would not trust these geriatrics to save me or anyone.

I got woken up on Sunday (10am) with a call from a tenant saying there is shit right outside the side door entrance.  Maintenance and housekeeping does not working Sunday, so guess who had to get a shovel?  I assure you, it was not dog poop, but homeless zombie feces. Good thing the dumpster is right next to the door so it was a quick shovel job, but it was still nightmarish.

*it just sucks, on one hand, I sit in a chair and get my hair and makeup done, and people stick a camera in my face and I smile, in the other hand is a shovel with human feces on it. Suck.*

After I do this, TWO HOURS LATER, a useless weekend security guard calls me to tell me people have been complaining about poop outside the door, and I should do something about it.  I told him that that I handled it already.
What the fuck is he doing that he doesn't call me for another two hours, and doesn't even check to see if it's still there?  These dudes are literally sitting there at the desk staring at a security monitor.
I don't know what else he could be doing.  Not speaking English, that's for fucking sure.

minus the gun, you get it

Please continue to my next security guard story.
It's like a choose your own adventure, but you only have once choice, and it's to read about how horrible this job is.

P.S. I have been told this entry is mildly racist.  It's not. It's more elderly-ist.

#1 Pigeon

I have this tenant.  She goes by the name of a black bird, named after a famous Poe poem and an NFL team that Poe is from, but for anonymity's sake, let's name her "Pigeon."

Pigeon is the most ghetto tenant in my whole building.  I believe she chose to live in an expensive building because she wants to move up in the world, and leave the hood behind.  Start fresh, and live a new life for her and her child.  The building is mostly occupied by young professionals, well-paid artists and fashion design students.  She doesn't understand that not everyone is from the hood, as she has never NOT lived in the hood.  She treats everyone as if she still lives in  Hawthorne Heights.

• One time she threatened these two young lesbians on her floor that she will "pop a cap in they knees".  

• She calls me complaining about how the maintenance took her dimmer lights because they broke, and replaced them with regular lights.  She wants her dimmers back, because she has a boyfriend and likes to "keep it sexy".  That is not an unreasonable complaint, I understand.  We all like to keep it sexy every once in awhile.  It was the voicemail she left me,

"Mapple, the maintenance guy came in and took my dimmer lights.  Yo, I need my lights back, I'm not feelin' this.  I be chillin with them low lights.  How you gon' come up in here and take my lights, for real.  I want them back, so I can move the lights up and down  like when I first moved up in here.  I'm not feelin' this. This is Pigeon. Call me back."

• She calls me at 3am the other night.  I didn't answer.  She does not leave a voicemail.  She calls me back during normal hours. 

"Mapple, this is Pigeon.  I got ghosts!  I woke up in the middle of the night with someone bangin' on my door.  Yo, I ain't got no beef with anyone down here, and when I check the door, ain't nobody there.  I got ghosts up in there.  But I ain't scared of them because they can't come in my house.  I got a priest up in here so they don't come in.  Now they stuck in the hall, bangin' on my door."

What the fuck am I to do with that?  I'm sorry, your lease doesn't cover paranormal activity.
Fuck.

Being a Building Manager is Awful: Intro

I've decided to document the shit that happens to me managing a building in Downtown Los Angeles.

Here are the facts:

• 214 units
• 12 Floors
• I live here, and my loft is awesome
• Hundreds of assholes/babies also live here
• work phone is a cell phone, so it's always with me, on call, at all times except for Wednesdays (my day off)
• the building pretty much looks like this:

I am doing this because it's a great way for me to be able to be an actor.  I can still go on my auditions, and if I book things, I can work them.  I don't get paid much as an actor, and when I do, it's few and far between.  Now the various acting and print gigs I do get, I can use that money instead of it all going towards outrageous Los Angeles rent.
They basically let me live in an awesome loft for free.  The downside is I actually have to do this job, which is terrible.  Absolutely terrible.