Jun 11

I’m here all week! Tip your secretary!

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Mondays are cordially invited to kiss the darkest part of my white ass.

I don’t understand how I can leave for the weekend with absolutely nothing going on and come back to find 16 new voicemail messages, each and every one of them resulting in a conversation more whiny and obnoxious than the previous one.

“You’re evicting me?!? I was going to pay rent, but I have to wait for my student loans to come in!”
“Great. Then what is your excuse for every one of the last 6 months?”

“I was only a few days late! This $50 late fee is ridiculous!”
“That’s nothing. What’s really ridiculous is when a tenant complains about their late fee while leaving all of their drug paraphenalia sitting around the apartment for me to photograph when I come over for showings.”
“I’ll drop off a check today.”

Actual body of evidence for that conversation

“You gave me a parking ticket! I have a parking contract with you!”
“It expired a month ago.”
“So what?”
She’s going to be really pissed when she gets the tow bill…

“I have some questions about an apartment your company has listed for rent.”
“Sure, I can answer those for you.”
“No thanks, I’d rather not talk to a secretary.”
I put him on hold for 3 minutes before asking my coworker to grab the call.
“Sorry, I don’t know anything about that property. You’ll have to talk to our leasing agent.”
*Picking up the call*
“Hi! I have some questions about your property that some ditz at the front desk wasn’t going to be able to help me with.”
“You may be surprised. I’m the ditz at the front desk.”

Everyone calls me wanting something, and most of them expect that they are priority #1 for me. Then, when they find out that they’re tenth in line behind eight other whiners and one genuine emergency, I am just the most unreasonable bitch who ever lived to bitch unreasonably.

“I have a huge favor to ask of you. This is the 4th time we’ve called this year about our drain being clogged we need someone to come fix it as soon as possible because the shower gets ankle deep after about 5 minutes and all that dirty water is kind of gross.”
“And the last 3 times you called, maintenance pulled out clumps of hair, caked in styling product. You need to get some draino and use it every couple weeks to break it up.”
“Why can’t you guys do it?”
“Why can’t I get in my car, go to the grocery store, buy a $4 bottle of draino, and deliver it personally into your bathroom tub drain?”
“You make me sound so spoiled and helpless!”

If I had a dollar for every time one of them became self aware, I might be able to fill my gas tank at the end of 2014. Also, how dirty are they that their shower water is skeeving them out?

“My silverware drawer got stuck and when I yanked on the handle to get it open, the whole thing ripped out. Can you do me a favor and send someone to fix it?”
“Yeah, but it won’t be today. He’s working on a plumbing leak right now.”
“But I can’t get to my spoons and forks! Am I supposed to eat like an animal?”
“If the face of the drawer is completely gone, you can reach your hand in there and pull the silverware tray out.”
“That’s stupid! Drawers have handles for a reason!”
“They do. Perhaps you should stop yanking them off.”

“I left my car keys at a friend’s house this weekend, and now I’m locked out of my apartment. Can you drive over here and open my door for me?”
“You live in Sun Prairie. It’ll take me 30 minutes to get there and there’s a $35 lock out charge.”
“If you can waive the lockout fee as a favor to me, I’d really appreciate it.”

Since everyone seems to want favors from me, and I feel that it’s high time I started acting like the same entitled twat that everyone else is, I’ve devised a means of meeting your needs while also compensating me for my service well above and beyond the normal (and abnormal) requirements of my job description.

Start tipping me.

I won’t move my ass ’til you show me the cash.

Much like your chinese delivery driver, your pizza boy, and your bellhops, if I’m going to provide a personalized, door to door service for you, I expect a tip. Bringing you a bottle of draino? $3. Pouring it in the drain and plunging for you? Better make it $5. Bringing over some wood glue and clamps to fix your silverware drawer? $10. Locked out of your apartment 20+ miles away? That’s at least $20 and an extra 50 cents for every mile over 20.

Make it a good tip and you will go to the top of the VIP list every single time. Give me a shitty tip or no tip, and I’ll get to it after I service the people who are genuinely appreciative of my time.

It probably won’t catch on, but the system already works like this. You bitch and whine at me constantly while bending and breaking rules at every turn? You’re not getting priority from me for a damn thing. But if you’re polite and respectful and play by the rules without complaint, I’ll go out of my way to help you out. No matter what your field of business, the whole world is a service industry, and it works two ways. Play nice, or pay up.


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  1. Jana

    It’s like when I pay nickel slots and tip the lady $20 bucks….the beer and service is OUTSTANDING! I would tip you lots lady…cause I love you!

    1. admin

      You play nickel slots…? Do you also chain smoke Virginia Slims next to your oxygen tank?

      I’m sort of kidding. When I worked at a casino, I’d see old women in the nickel slots doing that shit CONSTANTLY. We’d have to call security on them and security was even afraid of going up there. Whether it was the explosion hazard, the scary ass women, or both – I’m still not sure.

  2. Naturally Inappropriate


  3. Misty

    Try the veal!! :)

    1. admin

      Mmm, veal parm… so exquisitely tasty.

      1. NATurally Inappropriate

        Now I want veal. Desperately

  4. bluzdude

    Should have told the busted drawer people so just make a freakin’ sandwich.

    No wait… “But how will I cut the crusts off?”

    1. admin

      Under no circumstances can you be female and tell this particular group of boys to make a sandwich. They would inevitably play the sexism card and I’d bludgeon someone to death.

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