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.

 

 

 

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Happy Anniversary to ME, from Wordpress and ROOSTERS.

It’s been 4 years of sporadic posting, hilarity and profanity here in Sassyland. I need to thank those of you that actually read this drivel, for without you, I surely would have given up long ago.

And while we are on the subject of giving up…my newest frustration comes in the form of a ROOSTER.

Yep! You read that right. I have a tenant that will NOT get rid of the Rooster they have had staying in their van for the last several months. Apparently, they have had him since he was just a little wee chicky. And it’s their pet. I KNOW, YOU GUYS!

Well, about 8 months ago, I reported in this VERY BLOG, about this rooster that was living in their van. They were asked back then to get rid of it because we don’t allow FARM ANIMALS on the property. It’s not just an apartment rule…it’s also a city ordinance. So, you know…GET RID OF IT. Only, they moved it from their van to their apartment. Yep.

I got a call from one of my other tenants the other day telling me that there is a rooster in the apartment above hers and crows in the wee morning hours and makes all sorts of racket up in the apartment.

And the other day, it got loose in the parking lot and they were chasing it all over the place for like, 1/2 an hour!

And so, after I stopped laughing – because when someone tells you that there is a chicken on the loose in the parking lot and there are grown people chasing it and you DON’T LAUGH? You’ve got to be dead inside. After I stopped laughing – I told her I’d take care of it.

FAST FORWARD TO TODAY – they speak Spanish so, I had my maintenance guy come in to translate for me so there would be NO FURTHER MISUNDERSTANDING regarding this MOTHERFUCKING ROOSTER:

They came in to pay their rent…late…but – whatevs. I took the opportunity to confront them about the damned rooster. Again. It went a little like this:

Me: Let’s talk about the rooster again.

Them: *blank stare*

Me: I told you once before to get rid of the rooster. My co-worker told you to get rid of the rooster two weeks ago.

Them: *averting their eyes*

Me: I will not ask you again to get rid of the rooster. If I hear about that rooster one more time, I’ll evict you. We cannot have roosters living here – in your van OR your apartment. The city doesn’t allow it and neither do I.

Them: Okay, okay, okay.  I’m going to make a house for it. I have a friend that is a cop and he said I can make a house for it.

Me: YOU CANNOT HAVE A HOUSE BUILT FOR A ROOSTER HERE!!!!!!! Why don’t you understand?!?

Them: No, I have a friend that will let me keep it at their house, I’ll make a house for them there. My English no so good.

Me: My Spanish no so good, either, so no rooster here. And it needs to happen RIGHT AWAY! No more ROOSTER.

Them: GOD MADE THE ANIMALS!!!!

Me: Yes, that’s the rumor.

Them: He’s very very pretty.

Me: I’m sure he is. He can be pretty somewhere else, NOT HERE.

Then my co-worker pulled out a can of whoop-ass:

Co-Worker: I told you last week to get rid of the Rooster. Either get rid of him or move out and turn in your keys. This is ridiculous. There’s no more discussion.

Them: What you say?!?! GOD made the animals. God made the animals before He made the humans!

Me: Okay. Just make sure the rooster is gone. I don’t want to have to talk to you about this again.

Them: Ok, ok…GOD BLESS YOU.

Roosters. God damned ROOSTERS. #apartmentmanagerproblems

 

 

Day Two of the Soda Files, Sassyland.

Day two. 

  
So, I’m using an empty one liter Pepsi bottle to successfully get through this water drinking business, you guys. It’s working GREAT! Two successful days of drinking oodles of water and about a week with no soda whatsoever. 

I should disclose that I have done this twice before – quitting the soda. I’ve gone 6 months without it, having a big camping trip at the end to celebrate with all the soda a gal could want as my reward. The difference this time is that I’ve got a goal each day to consume water. 

Wanna know what I need to remember?

TO GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE I FUCKING GET IN MY CAR AND LEAVE WORK! Someone almost didn’t make it home tonight with dry pants…in fact, I used Siri to text my daughter to make sure the door was unlocked so that I could run straight in. My dogs thought I was nuts when I swung open the door, dropped my purse on the floor, stripped my coat off and started unbuttoning my pants, all while I was trying to not break my face because I wore heels to work and couldn’t kick them off.

But you know what?! Unlike yesterday, when I only peed ONCE at work and I started wondering how dehydrated I actually was (severely, I’m guessing) I had the joy of 5 trips to the restroom today! This means I’m finally hydrated! 

Are any of you attempting to cut back or stop drinking soda with me? Tell me how it’s going. If you’re afraid of being judged, don’t worry about that, if any asshole tries to be rude in the comments after you bear your soul, I’ll send the WordPress goons after them and banish them from Sassyland forever and ever and EVER! 

I intend to share this journey with you – the good and the bad. I’m not afraid of being 100% honest with you people.  

Happy watering! xoxo

I always get nervous when you people follow me…

You guys…I’m freaking out.

There are times when this blog gets more attention than others and apparently today is the day because I just picked up two new follows and I’m not really sure if you understand this blog enough to follow me…

Seriously though...low standards?

Seriously though…low standards?

HAVE YOU READ ANY OF THIS STUFF?! I mean…I drop F-bombs like I drop the ellipses…frequently…with ABANDON and…well…quite frankly, you’ve got me worried.

And another thing…if you think you are stumbling upon some “writer” that can form a coherent thought and can form proper sentence structure with ease…you’ve got another thing coming.

Usually the posts here are just my thoughts rattled through my fingertips with little regard for proper writing and punctuation, proper tenses…all of that crap that serious writers care so deeply about. WHICH I CAN APPRECIATE, but seriously. You followed a blog with the title “Sassypanties”. How proper can it possibly be?

Not. It’s not proper at all. Thankyouverymuch.

Oh yes, sometimes, I’ll surprise you with some heart felt mushy stuff and my sincere love for Music and hosting House Shows, but mostly it’s just my rantings about my job and how people piss me off and I’m not happy unless I add a “shit” or “motherfucker” in there for good measure. Because I can.

So…I guess you can consider this a warning or…a welcome aboard. Thanks for even considering clicking that follow button. If you choose to stay…I’ll do my best to chase you off.

P.S. You should be really proud of me because I sort of kept my profanity under wraps for the most part with this post. Pretty impressive, I must say.

P.P.S. The ellipses…dude…I told you…I use them…or should I say “mis-use” them…A LOT.

These Woodpeckers are Driving Us Insane: Apartment Manager Tales

There are a lot of things I can do to help make my tenants comfortable. Fixing things that are broken in their apartment homes, being friendly, letting them know they are valued, offer my counseling services when they need a shoulder to cry on, quiet down their neighbors if they get rowdy, accept packages from the FedEx or UPS driver when they aren’t home…but there are *some* things…some things…that are out of my control.

The Apartment Manager vs. Nature:

Me: Blahbitty Bloobitty Apartments, this is Sassy, how may I help you?

Caller: Yeah…I don’t know if you’ve been getting calls about this, have you?

Me: You’ll have to tell me what you’re talking about there, sir.

Caller: The woodpeckers! They are driving us nuts – you’ve HAD to have gotten some calls about this.

Me: No, I can’t say that I have. What is going on?

Caller: Well, they are pecking at all hours of the day and it’s driving us INSANE. What can you do about it?

Me: Well, there’s not much I can do about nature, unfortunately – but I’ll send my maintenance guy out to take a look and see if there is anything that can be done. I will not guarantee any kind of permanent solution nor result, however. It’s spring. The birds are out.

Caller: Well, this is just ridiculous. He needs to put up flashy ribbon or something because we can’t keep dealing with this.

Me: Again, I cannot guarantee the results you desire, but I will send him over to take a look.

 

Dear Apartment Dwellers Everywhere,

There are some things that are out of your apartment staffs capabilities…taming wildlife is one of those things. We truly have no control over birds, raccoons, deer, wildebeasts, hyenas or any other fauna that you may encounter. Pests, on the other hand, we can deal with. We CAN fix your leaky sink or your plugged up toilet (training our tenants of the fine art of the “courtesy flush” is something that has had to take place…yes…we try to educate whenever possible…).

We love you, but so help me, I will not hesitate to smack you up side the head if you start in with your silly, petty demands. Don’t test me.

Love,

Sassy the most AMAZING apartment manager ever to have walked the PLANET!

The internal dialogue of falling asleep…and math.

It’s 11:00pm and I start the internal dialogue…

“If I close my eyes now, I will get approximately 8 hours of sleep. That’s enough, right?”

a few minutes later…

“I’m never going to fall asleep. Why does this happen? Maybe if I roll over onto my stomach and tuck my arm under my pillow and wrap the free arm around my chest and tuck my hand under my shoulder, I’ll be comfortable enough to doze off.”

“Why is he BREATHING LIKE THAT! Sweet JESUS he needs to get a sleep study done! That can’t be healthy!”

…I kick him a little under the covers…

“Good…he gasped for air…he’s still alive. THANK GOD!”

…peeks at the clock…

“Holy shit, it’s 11:45…that means I have 6 hours and 15 minutes until I have to get up. Tomorrow is going to suck ASS!”

Crap…

“Did I set the alarm for 7 or 8? Jesus…where is my phone?! It’s so fucking dark in here!” 18 items hit the floor from my nightstand…met with a grumble and snort from my erratically sleeping husband.

Blinded by the light of the display on my phone, I wince and shut my eyes quickly realizing that my glasses were one of the 18 items that fell to the floor in my attempt to feel where my phone was placed on my nightstand. Realizing I’m blind enough to not be able to read the time display on my phone and also the fact that I had not reset my alarm clock on my bedside since the last time we tripped a breaker in our rather old house, I figured I’d squint to bring the numbers into focus…I had set my phone alarm to wake me up at 8am.

It’s midnight.

“I better set my alarm for 7am. That way, I can psyche myself out and hit the snooze a few times before I actually have to get out of bed.”  I adjust my alarm for 7am. I set the phone back on the nightstand.

“So, if I wake up at 7…and don’t *really* have to get up until 8…I can hit the snooze button…how many times? One hour = 60 minutes. 60 divided by 9…SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can hit it 6 times. Whew. Glad we got that figured out.”

“What was that noise? Did I lock the door after I let the dogs back in? Crap…if I didn’t…no, I did. I must have. Shit. FINE. I’ll go check.” Carefully getting out of bed so as to not step on the glasses that fell off of my nightstand.

yyyyeeaaahhh…it was locked. Good thing I got up, though. Now I have to pee.

Climbing back into bed…

“Seriously, I can’t keep living like this. That’s IT! I’m going to brush my teeth at 8:30 tomorrow go to bed early! I mean it this time…I’m SICK of it!”

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Calm down crazy, you know your favorite TV shows start at 8pm. There’s no way you’re going to follow through with this plan. You and I both know – wait…”You” and “I” are the same people…this just got really weird. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep you freak!”

The sad part is…most of this happens the same way while I’m sitting on the couch until 11pm…”I swear I’m getting up at the next commercial…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apartment Manager Tales #70: *facepalm*

Can we all just agree that paying your rent on time is YOUR responsibility and that it’s NOT the responsibility of your APARTMENT MANAGER? After all, we DO give a 5 day grace period before late fees are imposed.

Man up – or woman up – AND PAY YOUR FUCKING RENT ON TIME.

Guess what happens if I don’t pay my house payment on time, y’all?

THEY TAKE MY FUCKING HOUSE AWAY, THAT’S WHAT.

 

 

11wD2RW

add *muthafuckah* to that…