Apartment Manager Tales and Randomness: #25? To be honest I lost count…

Hey y’all. Reading the lovely blogs here on a rainy slow day at work brings me such joy and inspiration, I thought it was time for me to go ahead and throw a post out there.

You’re welcome.

Oh, where do I begin? I KNOW!!!! I should introduce you to one of my dogs. If you don’t give a shit about my dog – fuck you – then scroll down to the Apartment Manager Tales below because, let’s face it, that’s all you want to read about anyway. And that whole “fuck you” thing? I was kidding…yeesh. CALM DOWN, CRAZY!

(Before) Hi, I’m Winston, I’m a huge fucking HOT MESS!

We adopted Winston from a friend of a friend who was going through a divorce and couldn’t care for him any longer. Apparently the story goes like this: The people who “bought” him got him from a puppy mill. Apparently, he was in pretty bad shape being cooped up in poop filled cages and dirty and just not good. He’s a full bred Westie. When the time came for this person to get rid of him, by chance I saw a post on my friends FB page and got pretty excited at the prospect of getting a 2nd dog that was in need of a loving home. Our other dog, Sierra is getting older and I thought it would be an excellent time to get her a companion and expand our family a little bit – and to my surprise, Mr. Pants agreed.

Our first plan of attack after we met him was to give him a BATH! Holy shitballs he was stinky and dirty. He had a bald spot on his butt near his tail where he was itchy and miserable – like, bloody raw, here people…NOT GOOD. His tummy was black and like leather from all the scratching. His ears were scabby and there was visible matting of the fur in various places. Needless to say, he got a bath the instant the old owners left and the door shut behind them.

The next order of business on the agenda was to get a vet to take a look and prescribe meds to get him comfortable. Because the old owner couldn’t afford his meds, I assumed the paperwork she gave me would have all that info listed. Nope. The vet I took him to basically said to me – and I’m paraphrasing here – “You should probably just consider him a lost cause and get rid of him quick.” *scooby do head shake here* I, at this point, had only had him a total of 2-3 days and this douchebag is telling me to get rid of him and RUN? I should take him back there…sunnuvabitch. I’ll show him what a “lost cause” is.

This is Winston now: pretty amazing transformation, right?

(After) Hi, I’m Winston. I’m fucking adorable.

We could fast forward to yesterday if you like. The cliff notes over the last 6 months include 2 different vets, a change in diet to include $80 for dog food that lasted about 6 weeks that was specially formulated with NO ALLERGENS. 4 different meds that semi-worked until we found the 2 that really work great. All his skin issues are regulated by the meds. He has no food allergies, so we’re back on the food my other dog eats. As long as he has his meds, he’s a happy boy. Then Monday, I called in to get his prescription re-filled. The last time I took him to the vet ( because they keep wanting to see him but it costs me $100 each time I take him in and another $45 for meds!) I made sure to let them know that THEY said he has “chronic skin issues” and would be on meds the rest of his life. This I can handle – what I will NOT fucking do is take him to the Goddamned vet every single month just so I can get a refill on his meds so I made them understand that I need refills without having to bring him every month. They marked it in the chart and I called Monday to get the prescription refilled. I called yesterday to see if the meds were ready – NOPE. Okay. Fine. She said she’d call me when they are ready. Great. 2:30 rolls around so I decided I’d just go down to the vets office and sit and wait for them to get them ready for me. I gave them more than 24 hours notice. If I had had an appointment there that day, they would have fucking filled it (like they did for the 3 people who had come in during the 1/2 hour that I was sitting there.) and I would have gone home with what I needed. It’s not like they are back there with a fucking chemistry set cooking up the pills I need. They had to open two different bottles and count out a total of 80 pills. Not a very difficult task.

Here’s how this shit went down:

Me: Just popping in to pick up Winston’s meds.
Vet Desk Lady: Uh…okay…
Me: I’ll go ahead and wait.
….1/2 hour later….(3 people get their meds because they had been “seen” by the vet….how hard is it to count 80 pills?)……
Vet Desk Lady: Sassy? I’m not sure they are going to get to you…they need to review the chart…(voice trails as if she’s feeding me a bunch of bullcrap)…
Me: There’s no need to review the chart. Last time I was here I was told I could call in a refill without a problem…I called yesterday, they said it’d be ready today and he’s out of meds. I’ll wait.
Vet Desk Lady: Okaaaayyy….
……15 minutes later……
Vet Desk Lady: Sassy? Winston’s meds are ready. Next time give us 48 hours notice.
Me: I was told 24 hours would be sufficient. Here’s my credit card.

THAT is how you handle shit, people. Just. Show. Up. They can’t ignore you forever.

APARTMENT MANAGER TALES: It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Well, WAIT NO MORE, dear reader!

On March 9th, my maintenance guy called me to inform me that a U-Haul truck had hit one of the carports on the property and was tilting precariously at a 45 degree angle. He had ran to every residents door and managed to get them to move their vehicles from underneath the structure so that no further damage would be done and the next morning, he called me to let me know that at about 7:45 am the carport buckled and was 1/2 laying on the ground. Grrrrrreeaaat.

I get to work around 9am to find no message from the person who hit the structure. No note, voicemail…nothing. I did have a resident call with a license plate # from the truck so I called U-Haul and asked them if they could confirm that it was a certain person – because they were the ONLY ONES MOVING IN OVER THE WEEKEND. Yep. It was who I thought it was, so I told the person on the other end of the line that this particular vehicle hit a carport on my property and I needed to file a claim.

3 hours later, the new resident comes in and says she hit the carport and that she barely tapped it and it shouldn’t have fell over like that. “Uh…you must’ve hit it harder than you thought you did. And why didn’t you leave a message or drop a note or anything?”  I then explained that someone had reported the incident and took down the license plate # and I called and have a claim going with U-haul and that I’m sure they would be contacting her. She was shocked that I called and reported it. WHAAAAAAA??????????????????????????????????????? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’m going to sit in here and not do anything about it? It’s at the entrance to my property, by the way – and because it has to go through the insurance company, we couldn’t TOUCH it…it had to sit there all broken and shit until we got approved to be able to do anything to it at all. We couldn’t even tear it down.

Here’s a great one…

I’m in the midst of an eviction. There are a few things about this eviction that may seem to paint me as quite the bitch and I’ll get to that and then some of you may want to pray for my soul because I’m pretty sure that I might go to hell…but going to hell doesn’t have anything to do with the plain and simple fact that this lady hasn’t paid me rent and she can’t live here for free!

February 6th, 2014. This is the day everyone who hasn’t paid their rent for the month gets a 3-day notice to pay or vacate. Either you pay your rent within the 3 days of the notice or you may choose to vacate the apartment. Pretty simple. It’s lawfully served facing out on the door – so that anyone can walk by and see it, especially the resident in question. If they are embarrassed by this, that’s not my problem. It’s properly served. People don’t like it and my response to them when they complain is that it’s properly served and if they don’t like it, they should pay their rent on time. *and I smile and wish them a nice day*

This particular resident has been a problem for me since I took over management of this property. She pays late EVERY MONTH. Promises to pay by a certain day, I have to call her because she didn’t bring the money…it goes on for weeks at a time. WEEKS. She always has a story – and because she’s NEVER made good on her promise to pay me when she says she’s going to. Not once. About 2 months ago – she owed me 3 months of rent – timing of the courts caused the delay of getting her kicked out and she eventually paid me every penny she owed. This time – she’s behind 2 months worth of rent. She told me in February that she had cancer…

She said she was going to pay on a certain day. It came and went. I called, she said she’d pay on a certain day and her daughter had a seizure and she was in the hospital. It came and went. She said that she got in a car accident. This happened 3 separate times. On the 11th of February, I turned her file over to our eviction attorney to deal with her and get her out once and for all. SEE? I’m such a bitch. But every time she says she’s going to pay – something pops up. I have no idea if she’s telling me the truth and the last time she walked into my office, the second she stepped into the room I said, “Where is your rent money?” She starts whining about something…”I honestly don’t want to hear about your personal problems right now. You need to pay your rent or move.” She says, “Please stop the eviction…I don’t know what to do.” I said, “For starters, you can pay your rent. IN FULL. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I am NOT going to stop the eviction – if you show up with your back rent and ALL legal fees, I’ll CONSIDER stopping it – until then, I suggest you look for another place to live. if you intend to pay – call the eviction attorney to get your total balance because now, there are legal fees that amount to about another months rent.” I wanted to shoo her out of my office, but I resisted the urge to use that hand-shooing motion and just told her our conversation was over.

That’s the news from the apartment complex – you’re pretty much up-to-date. Fee free to leave hate comments because I’ve evicting a supposed cancer patient. I can already tell I’ll get some – but who knows…? She may have been lying about it. Just like she lies about when she’s going to be paying her motherfucking RENT!


7 thoughts on “Apartment Manager Tales and Randomness: #25? To be honest I lost count…

  1. i get so tickled …im not sure which story i like best…
    HOWEVER….my motto exactly…JUST. SHOW. UP!
    get em girl!

  2. ekgo says:

    Uwah! Winston is PRECIOUS!!! I want to bite his ears.
    I’m not going to talk about vets. If I do, the dog we don’t have yet will probably die so I’m just going to move on to the delightful horror tales.

    So…I lived in apartments for about six or seven years. I had tragedies happen to me in that time. There were even a few times I couldn’t make my full rent payment when needed but I’m guessing my managers must have been really angelic, or something, because every single time, with every complex, I found that if I talked to them in advance and worked something out, I never got into trouble. I know this is a novel concept and I know you’re just trying to hate on people who have cancer so would never be nice to anyone under any circumstance, but…maybe some of these tenants could sort of consider a course of action that is somewhat similar?
    I know, I know. That’s crazy talk. Because who ever heard of dealing with things in a responsible manner being a viable solution to anything?

    Do you ever stab people in their faces with your eyes? I think that is what I would do. Stab people’s faces out with my eyes.

    • sassypanties says:

      Firstly-yes. Winston literally just licked my face so much when I screamed fir help, me may or may not have licked all of my front teeth…and I’m totally cool with it. Secondly-yeah…you’d be surprised how cool I can be when folks just let me know what’s up…lameasses…

      • ekgo says:

        What? NO!
        Wait, I don’t mean the dog tongue on your teeth. That happens.
        I mean NO! Don’t say you’re nice to people who try to work with you! How can you be a cancer-person-hating bitch if you run around saying you wouldn’t act like that if she would just communicate. It’s like you have a soul, or something!
        This makes me sad. I thought we were sisters in soullessness but it turns out you just don’t have patience for morons…even if they do have cancer.

      • sassypanties says:

        I think the word “nice” is a bit of a stretch….I’m still bitchypants…but I’m slightly more tolerant than I am with the non-communicators. Better? Still sisters? See? My fucking heart and graciousness gets in the fucking way all the fucking time. SHIT!

      • ekgo says:

        Wellllll…at this point, I think we are more like step-sisters. Not the Cinderella kind, the kind that actually like each other and get up to no end of trouble. But I’m not convinced that you’ll ever be as soulless as I had originally thought.
        We’ll see how things turn out. Maybe we can do some sort of adoption ceremony thing if it turns out you really do hate people with cancer. You know, to bring us legally closer together.

      • sassypanties says:

        You see? That’s all I really needed…a goal.

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