There is no more offensive a 4 letter word than ‘move.’
Whether you’re instructing someone to remove their ass from your path of travel with great expedience, or you’re preparing to uproot your household and transplant somewhere else, that word just offends good taste, moreso than any F-bomb could ever aspire to.
Something about moving always seems to bring out the worst in me, and based on my interactions from this weekend through today, I’m pretty sure that everyone else turns into the worst person in the world as well. Today is technically the day before turnover, but we’ve already had 9 people move out and dozens more come in to ask questions. I was completely unprepared for how busy today would be because it was positively dead last year.
I am furthermore absolutely brain dead and running entirely in robot mode – I’m basically just repeating the same shit that’s typed out in my memos. So instead of a well written, thought provoking blog on why my tenants this year are the worst people who ever lived, I give you proof of why we are ALL the worst people who ever lived. Yes, you too. And you. And even you. Don’t lie – you are too.
Coworker: “You’re still working on it? What have you been doing all this time?”
Me: “Writing my doctoral fucking thesis on world peace through systemic violence. What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing?”
me: “I’d slap my own husband for a latte and an egg sandwich right now.”
Queen Inappropriate: “I might pull the plug on mine for a latte.”
me: “Thank you for being a horrible person with me.”
I love this bitch.
Steve: “I’m not 100% sure you’ll like them, but I think you should check out this album.”
me: “Dude… I can’t remember my name today.”
Steve: “Yeah, and?”
me: “And I can’t remember my name, much less what you just told me.”
Steve: “Fair enough”
Tenant’s Dad: “I can’t understand this ledger. I can’t figure out who owes what!”
Me: “If you can’t figure it out when you’re the one writing one of the checks, then I will be no help to you because I have to process 500 of those checks every month.”
Tenant’s Dad: “How do you deal with it all the time?”
Me: “There’s a flask in my bottom drawer.”
At one point, I was being driven insane by an elusive strand of hair in my shirt, so I went on a minor spelunking expedition in my cleavage. A tenant walked in as I reached in to pull out the offending hair.
Him: “Wow, really?”
Me: “Oh, please. If you haven’t seen a bra at this stage in your life, you really are wasting your college years.”
A tenant came to our office to pick up some touch up paint. I directed her to the white buckets left of the entryway which contain her building’s color. She headed straight for the gray buckets and started filling her container.
Me: “No, the white buckets. White buckets! WHITE BUCKETS!”
Her: “It IS white! See?” *shows me the paint in her hand*
Me: “And what color bucket is that from? ”
Her: “White! *looks at the bucket* Gray? SHIT.”
A mom with a son whom we have a long history of contentious arguments drops off his keys for move out.
Mom: “You were a very difficult office to do business with.”
Me: “Your son is an impossible tenant to love. He should be thankful that there’s not a charge for that.”
Another tenant (apparently his neighbor): “He was also a shitty neighbor. I’m happy to charge him for that.”
Sorostitute: “I can’t wait until the 14th. I need to know the status of my apartment for early move in.”
Me: “Who the hell are you, and why are you parked like an asshole in my tenants’ parking spaces?”
Tenant, as if on cue: “Some asshole is parked in my spot and about 4 others. Can you call a tow truck?”
Sorostitute runs out of the office and burns rubber driving off.