In Case I Haven't Mentioned it, Living in My Apartment Blows!
Last December, when my life fell apart and I moved into an apartment, I tried to remain optimistic despite the fact that it's old and in a less than desirable neighborhood, (i.e. the ghetto). Being here was better than the situation I was in, and I do still believe that, but, after a series of unfortunate events, my ability to remain positive about my current domain has left the building.
Our problems began almost immediately with plumbing issues. That mother f*cking toilet backed up every night, after hours, and the after hours maintenance dude would have to come over. He has the b.o. Real bad. We had to light candles and move the the Glade plug-ins around after he left to try to kill the odor. Finally, after two weeks straight of having to come plunge my toilet, they finally gave me a new one. It has clogged about three times, once in the midst of the stomach virus from hell. Their solution? To leave me their plunger. Are you kidding me? I mean, I can plunge some stuff if I have to, but why would I when that's what they get paid for? Okay, fine, I can barely plunge anything because it makes me gag. Yes, I am basically helpless.
A few months later, I noticed my carpet in the hallway was soaked for some reason. I told the office when I called that it happened every time one of us took a shower. They said, no it was from the air conditioner. So, the maintenance guys came over and took up my carpet and did God-only-knows-what, and guess what? Damn carpet still got soaked. They came back, cut a hole in my wall, threw a Sprite can in it and vowed to come back the next day. While I was in the shower, Grace noticed water shooting out of the pipe in the gaping hole in the wall. Really? Who called that? Oh yeah, that would be me, Girl Who Can Barely Hang a Picture, Much Less Do Anything Plumbing Related. When they came back the next day, I am not kidding, the maintenance guys said, "Where's the problem?" Uh, that would be the gaping hole in the wall, shooting water, Moron. Hel-l-o-o-o-o-o-o.
Fast forward to this morning. I was awakened by Grace screaming that everything in the freezer was melted. Well, that and my f*cking loud next door neighbors laughing it UP at some ungodly early hour. There was a gaggle of them and they were way too cheerful for damn early, Man. Do they not realize I sleep in the living room? Especially since I've said about a dozen times, "I sleep on the sofa" which I thought was nicer than saying, "If you're kid bounces his ball outside my door at 7:00 A.M. ever again, you will have to extract it from his ass." Anywho, Grace was correct. Everything in the freezer and fridge was totally ruined. I just bought groceries Wednesday night. I was beyond pissed. Further adding to my pissedness, the little girl who answered the phone for the property management company sounded annoyed that I would call. An hour and a half and still-no-coffee-because-- my-creamer-and-milk-were-both-ruined later, Creepy Maintenance Guy showed up. Oh lovely. He helped me clean out three trash bags worth of ruined food before showing up with a "new" fridge, and taking a chunk out of my coffee table with it. The "new" fridge was apparently used to store dead bodies, because the freezer smells so bad I can't open it.
The apartment manager called to ask me if things were taken care of. This is prior to me discovering the smell the head stored in my freezer left when the creepy serial killer moved it to the freezer at his new pad, and I told her yes, but I lost $100 worth of food and I expected to be reimbursed for it. She said they don't make concessions for that sort of thing. I told her off. I told her about all the things I just listed that have been happening since day one and that, one way or another, I will get my $100 back. And I will. She offered to ask if they could make an exception, and then tried to get me to sign another lease or move into one of their rental houses. Are you f*cking kidding me? I. will. cut. a. bitch.
If this had been an isolated incident, I probably wouldn't make such a bitch about it. But this is a constant thing with these people and getting things done right is like pulling teeth. Therefore, Monday morning, my apartment management is going to get a visit from their worst nightmare. Don't worry, I will rip them a new one with a huge smile on my face, just like any good Southern lady should. If they still refuse to give me my money, they will receive a rent check that has $100 deducted from it for my lost groceries. I might even share the name of the property management company here and on Twitter and Facebook, since so many of my readers are local. And, you know, cause I'm sooo popular, it will might actually make a difference.
I have got to find a house that won't break up with me (i.e. reject my offer, get taken off the market, be owned by a bank that won't make a decision on my offer). ASAP. Seriously.