Ranty Times in Sassyland

I have co-workers that seem to be getting away with a whole helluva lot of stuff lately and the culmination of their gettingawaywithit’s (shut-up spellcheck…) is just really starting to make me super bitter and pissy. It probably doesn’t help that my BFF is somewhat of a manager figure in their lives and uses me as a sounding board – but to be honest, I may have to ask her to stop, but my fear of her not telling ME these things, is that she will tell someone else that will not be as discreet as I am/have been – so I’d rather be the one that she comes to, but it’s wearing me out because at this point, I feel like I couldn’t do ANYTHING to get my ass fired that would be as bad as the bullshit I’m hearing about…not only that, but I’d never even test that theory because I’m awesome like that and I get paid a decent wage to do my job and don’t feel the need to test any of the powers-that-be.

There are other things too – like my relationship feels strained on my end with my BFF because of the way I see how she is or isn’t managing these people. I’m feeling really judgey – not in a catty way or in a way that I don’t want to see her succeed – it’s more of a disappointment, I guess, that she is allowing to be taken advantage of and allowing certain staff members to get away with certain behaviors that, in the real world, would get their asses pink-slipped.

I attempt to give her solid professional advice which I feel falls on deaf ears, which makes me just want to shut my fucking mouth and not say a word, but I want her to succeed and my feeling is that if she continues to be taken advantage of, at some point, someone who matters will catch wind of it and then it will reflect poorly on HER that she didn’t take a stand when these behaviors started showing their ugly heads.

I’m in a pickle here. I’m a very honest person. If I feel that I need to have a hard conversation with her about how she is being perceived, I have no issue with having that conversation. I can be very diplomatic and lady-like, if forced when I need to be. And how she is being perceived is not really up for debate – if these people saw her as an authority figure, they would not be testing the waters like this. Testing the waters is something one does when they want to see how far they can push a person. If these people had any respect for her position as their immediate supervisor, they would be courteous and do things like call her when they take a sick day, or not take a sick day every Monday or Friday, or do something as simple as listen to their voicemails so that when they call in sick and she has to cover their office while they are out, she doesn’t have 40-50 voicemails that need to be listened to and/or responded to.

Here’s a GREAT example:

Yesterday, one of the units in an apartment complex that my BFF supervises, caught on fire. A very sad and heartbreaking thing to happen – a woman lost her life and a little 5 year old boy was in critical condition with burns all over his body. No one else was hurt. Apparently, the manager of that complex, one of these co-workers I’m bitching about, had stayed home sick yesterday. So, my BFF got a call that there was a fire from one of the maintenance staff, so she dropped what she was doing and took off for the complex to do whatever she could at the property, since the manager was gone, apparently – because she hadn’t gotten that call in the morning to let her know that she was home sick. (See? I mean…) After things had settled down a bit she took a moment to text the manager to let her know what happened.

No response.

Like, if something like that had happened to the property I manage, my ass would have 1.) Called to let my boss know I was sick and couldn’t make it in – IN THE DAMN FIRST PLACE. 2.) Had I gotten notified that an emergency of this magnitude had occurred, I would have jumped out of bed, gotten dressed and went down there!!!!!!!!! I just would. And I bet if you thought about that for even 2 seconds, that would be your reaction as well.

So, more time passed throughout the day and my BFF texted again to let her know that someone had passed from the fire and a boy was burned badly and after awhile she got this message back:

Is the fire out?

FOUR WORDS. She never showed up to see if she could help…

In defense of this person, she is a very caring individual. I think some things are happening in her personal life that are causing her to not make some very good decisions. BUT IF NO ONE CALLS HER ON IT, SHE WILL CONTINUE DOING THIS BULLSHIT.

Bye-guys

Anyway, I’m feeling burdened by all of this. It’s hard for me to take her seriously at all. Like…at. all.  SEE?!?!?!?! I’m getting PISSY NOW! Gah! There’s more, but I need to keep that to myself and just end this rant here because it’s already too long and I’m sure I’ve bored you with this subject enough.

Thanks for listening, y’all.

 

 

 

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Misophonia – It’s a “thing”, y’all. Look it up.

It happens against my will. It’s almost as if I get possessed. One minute I’m fine…the next I’m shooting daggers out of my eyes.

Usually, the first thing that I notice is people chewing their food noisily. At first, I’m able to control my twitchy eye. Breathing exercises work great. After that fails, though…all bets are off.

I drop little hints to those around me starting with that stare with the squinky eye. (Dear spellcheck…squinky IS a word…because I just made it up.) The offender usually senses this look…stops chewing for a moment, then says something like, “What?” to which I respond, “Oh…nothing…” hoping they get the hint. When that fails I go a little bit more passive-aggressive-aggressive.

Do those Funyuns taste good?!

I’m usually met with, “They sure do, want some?” I respectfully decline.

It will typically escalate from there. Here are ways that I will attempt to drown out or get them to stop:

  1. Turn on my music at my desk or turn on the TV.
  2. When that doesn’t work, I’ll turn up the volume so that I drown out that god-forsaken sound from my head.
  3. I remind myself that I love the person making this goddamned noise and sometimes that works…most of the time it does not.
  4. Slamming of dishes ensues.
  5. I will literally throw a fork onto my plate causing a scene making everyone nervous and occasionally they will leave the room.
  6. Heavy sighs work the best, I’ve found. And if you accompany the squinky eye and the stare-down, the offender knows you mean business.
  7. The final straw comes when I have had enough. Usually directed at my poor sweet husband or my BFF who both love me unconditionally and are the worst offenders. These two people love me DISPITE my shortcomings and weird quirks. I typically lose it completely.

The conversation will begin with the look. And my reactions exponentially get ballsy-er from there:

  • Blank stare while simultaneously freezing in place causing a silence in my general direction that is immediately noticed and the sense of being watched rather intensely is completely palpable.
  • They look in my direction, usually freezing in mid-chew. Let’s not forget, these people know me. They know exactly what this look means.
  • They say, “What?” – I say, “I’m literally going to stab you and to go prison if you don’t figure out how to chew more softly.” They say, “I’m just eating.” – I say, “Fine! YOU EAT AND I’LL GO LOOK FOR A KNIFE!”
  • They say, “You need to calm down.” – I say, “What would you like on your headstone? ‘Here lies Mr. Sassy, his wife murdered him because he wouldn’t chew softly and she fucking had had enough, already.'”*

In the end, I make my point. And a few days later, I feel really bad that I went so nutso about it – but SERIOUSLY.

* Don’t you fucking love it when you get to use “had had” in a sentence?! I do. Especially if it ends up on a head stone.

 

Sassyland Adventures

Hey, y’all!

I’m writing to you from my God-forsaken desk, in my God-forsaken office. At work. I can’t get any actual work done because there are contractors over <— (there) installing new French doors and repairing some of the siding to our office that has been damaged due to the fact that this is WASHINGTON and there has been a water leak for who knows how long and they are using some God-forsaken power tools including, but not limited to:

  • Saws-All
  • Hammer
  • Nail gun (hooked up to the God-forsaken air compressor)
  • Pry bars
  • Electric Drill

Now, I’m not one to complain….BWAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! J/K, that’s pretty much all this damn blog is about! BUT I DIGRESS. So, I’m complaining….get over it.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS RACKET!!!!!!!!!! A nail gun powered by an AIR COMPRESSOR IS LOUD AS FUCK, YOU GUYS! And, I mean, great for the guys working –  because they get ear protection, but they are about 7 feet away from my desk and THWAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!! – hey, don’t worry about me, I. Am. Good. Yessirree. No big deal. Reading lips probably isn’t that hard to learn, right?

Oh, good…one of the guys just got a head beam to the forehead. I’ll be right back…

He’ll be fine. I have icepacks in the fridge. Thanks for your concern. What? I can’t hear what you’re saying…because HAMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The workers are Russian, barely speak a LICK of English and the only Russian word I know is “Спасибо”! Which looks an awful lot like “ACHOO”, but it’s pronounced “Sbah-see-bah”, which means “Thank You”, apparently…at least that is what the owner of this contracting business told me it means. I should probably look that shit up on the Google Translate or something because I could be telling everyone something really obscene. I’ll be honest, I just looked up all of this on the internet and Спасибо looks nothing like “sbah-see-bah” so who the fuck knows what in the hell I’m saying.

How’ YOUR day?

 

Apartment Manager Tales: Don’t come crying to me…

It’s the 21st of the month y’all. If you haven’t paid your rent by now…when the fuck ARE you going to pay it?!

I called a lady today and told her that if she didn’t get her rent into me by the time I get here tomorrow – we have a night drop – that I was going to send her paperwork to the attorney for eviction.

You’re thinking to yourself, “Damn, Sassy…you’re a bitch!”

Yeah, well…here’s a little background. Previous managers here have apparently been letting this woman get away with this for QUITE some time…and it’s continued since I’ve managed here because, well…a precedence has been set. 48 times this woman has been late with her rent. FORTY-EIGHT. Let that sink in for a minute, you guys.

Like I said, I called her and said it had to be here tomorrow when I got here or her paperwork is being sent to the attorney. Which will incur legal fees, because evictions aren’t cheap.

She says to me, “But Sassy…can’t you help me out?”

No, I can’t. You told me first, that you’d pay it on the 11th. Then you told me you’d pay it on the 18th. Now you’re telling me you’re going to pay it on the 25th? I’ve helped you by giving you 21 days to pay your rent. I will not allow 22 days. If it’s not here when I get here in the morning, you will be sent for eviction. This has gone on long enough! (…extreeeeeeemely long pause of silence – if I learned anything, the art of winning a battle is the first person that breaks the silence loses. I rarely lose these stand-offs…)

So you’re not going to help me out, huh?

I’ve already helped you out – now you need to help me out. Pay your rent or move out. Period. (…more silence…I win.)

How long does this take?

The paperwork that the process server gives you will explain what you need to do. (more silence…I win again, bitches!)

So if I pay you Friday anyway, will you take it?

Not unless the attorney advises me to do so. There will be legal fees that will become part of your balance due.

Ooooh…okay…

 

Days like this make me want to slam my face onto my desk. Hard.

Let me talk REEEEEEEAAAAALLL SLOW, so you can understand…

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One of my residents short-paid his rent – which means…let’s say it was $939 ($899 rent + $40 water/sewer/garbage) and he only gave me a check for $855. So I called him today to explain that he has a balance owing and he argued that he dropped his rent “on time”…to which I replied, “Yes, your check for $855 was considered ‘on time’ only…it didn’t cover your balance IN FULL, now you owe me $84 + $16 in late fees totaling $100. When are you going to bring that over to us?”

AW MAN! I don’t know how I did that! I don’t understand, I need to make sure I have $100 left in my account!”

*what I was saying in my head…* Yeah…well…get on that shit, because you need to get your money in here, PRONTO.

He comes in and gives me $100. THEEEEEEEEENNNNNN….he calls me 20 minutes later.

Yeah…I have a question. I should have $15 somewhere over there as a credit.

Me: *hey, that’s not a question…it was more of a statement – an incorrect one at that…* How do you figure that?

My water sewer garbage is $40 and my rent is $899. I gave you a check for $855 and another one for $100.

Me: Yes, and you had a late fee of $16.

That should have gone to my water, sewer, garbage – right?

Me: No – the total owing you should have given me ON TIME would have been $939. You only gave me $855.

Right…so…where’s my $15.

Me: *brain exploding all over my office* Listen – it might be easier for you to stop by the office so I can show you the accounting of this in black and white, or you can write this down as I speak to you. Your RENT was $899. Your water, sewer, garbage was $40. That totals $939. You dropped a check for $855. That left you a balance of $84. Because you didn’t pay your rent IN FULL and ON TIME, you owe late fees of 20% on the balance due – that’s $16 in late fees. $84 + $16 = $100. There is no overpayment, there’s no credit due, you paid in full and your balance is now $0.00. You’re starting FRESH. Zero balance.

Yeah…ok…whatever.

You guys…just pay your motherfucking rent on time…it makes life so much easier.

 

Apartment Manager Tales: El Gallo! And broken windows…

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El Gallo – aka The Motherfucking Rooster.

EL GALLO!!!!!!! a.k.a. The Motherfucking ROOSTER that one of my residents at my apartment complex has been keeping mostly in their van – but also in their APARTMENT. Yeah…let that sink in for a minute…

Let me paint you a picture – let’s rewind about 5 months ago…

We get a call from a concerned resident that there appears to be a Rooster making noise closeby. Complaining of early morning COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOO’s and the accompanying rooster sounds that one assumes a rooster to do. We say – well? Where is it coming from?

THE VAN!!!

So, being the amazing managers that we – my co-worker – and I are, we spoke to the resident who was in possession of the rooster and calmly stated that this was against our rules and that they needed to get rid of the rooster.

Assuming that’s the last we’d hear about it – because – YOU CANNOT FUCKING HAVE A DAMN ROOSTER IN AN APARTMENT! And also – if it were a metal rooster – much like my blog idol Jenny Lawson covets…that’s one thing…that, I can deal with – and coincidentally – IT’S NOT AGAINST THE RULES TO HAVE A METAL ROOSTER IN YOUR APARTMENT.

But. I. Digress.

You’d think that simple phone call was all that was needed, right? Not so fast there, bub. Not. Even. Close.

2 months later…I get a call – and I’m paraphrasing here…

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg……

Moi: Yo, Sassyland Apartments, this is Sassy…S’up?

Neighbor to the Illegal Rooster People: The Rooster. Is in their apartment. Again.

Moi: You have GOT to be GODDAMNED KIDDING ME!!!!!

Neighbor to the Illegal Rooster People: Nope. It got loose the other day and they were chasing it around the parking lot

So…this time I wait for them to come in and pay rent. This is going to need some face to face action…I can tell. Also? I use my handy-dandy maintenance dude for his Spanish Speaking Skills…I love him – and I’ll tell you why: HE REPEATS EVERYTHING I SAY!!! INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO; hand gestures, raising of my voice, and the scowl I get when I look at people like they are stupid. He’s pretty cool, you guys.

So, I say what needs to be said and he translates and they are 100% clear on what I’ve instructed them to do.

1 month later…my maintenance guy calls me on a Thursday and says:

EL GALLO IS HERE IN THE VAN RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After I recovered from giving myself a facepalm, I consulted with my co-worker and we decided to call Animal Control. AND GUESS WHAT?! They came out within about 10 minutes of us calling – curiously enough, it takes the police about 20 minutes to get here when I call about a Domestic Violence situation – considering this was a stupid rooster, I’ll be lucky if I see someone show up at all…and also there was jokes about firing up the BBQ (from them, not me) – so…next thing you know…they actually SHOW UP!

The get to the apartment and the guy is SOOOOOO pissed. He doesn’t want to give them his I.D. – he doesn’t let them in, he won’t go to the van to show them, so the Animal Control people call the police to come out.

The police get there and as they go to walk up to the apartment they tap on the van and the rooster makes a noise. At this point, they weren’t 100% sure it was in the van – but NOW they know for sure that it IS!

The wife of the angry man came down and opened up the van – and told her husband to back off because he followed her down there and they get it open. They found the rooster in a box, on a hot day…no food or water…and they found something else.

A BABY ROOSTER…..

They wanted our resident to just sign over the rooster to Animal Control and they would not charge him with animal cruelty, but he refused. Now, he’s being charged.

Not only did we tell him on three separate occasions to get rid of the rooster – but at some point – he thought it would be a GREAT idea to get ANOTHER ONE! Can you believe the cajones on this guy?!

So Friday rolls around and I get to work – as I walk up to my French doors – which are glass paned, I see crackled glass and a hole. “Someone” broke the glass in our French doors to the office. I’m not pointing any fingers or anything – but it sure seems like a coincidence to me.

I love my job. Something tells me this is not the end of this story.