I opened a bottle of wine last night for the first time since we moved out of our old place and then I didn’t even drink it. I saw it sitting on the counter this morning as I was grabbing coffee to go. I stared longingly. I will neither confirm nor deny that I stroked the bottle lovingly and said “Soon, my precious.”
I really need to let loose because while I’m attempting to be as helpful and customer service oriented as possible today, these people are just making my friggin’ head hurt. So rather than stuff it down until my head explodes, covering dozens of people in bone fragments and brain matter, I’m just going to say what’s on my mind.
“There’s mold growing on my bathroom ceiling. It’s disgusting and unacceptable and it needs to be taken care of immediately.”
I couldn’t agree more. So since we’re all in agreement that it’s disgusting, go clean your damn bathroom.
“Our garbage disposal made a loud grinding sound and then stopped working. What? Oh, no, there’s nothing stuck in it. It just started doing that for no reason.”
You and I both know that there are fragments of broken shot glass wedged in there. Now roll up your sleeves and start digging, princess. And stop taking shots over the kitchen sink, Drinky McTwelveStep.
Tenant mom calls demanding boss’s information, but he’s out for the day so I tell her that I have no way of contacting him until he gets in tomorrow.
“I find that odd. In fact, I don’t really believe it.”
I find your orange day-glo skin odd. I find your Forever 21 clothes on your Perpetual 47 body odd. I find your unfortunate choice of hair accessories odd. Believe whatever you like – it won’t change my mind. I’ve never checked with the experts, but I’m pretty sure that giving your boss’s private cell phone number to an irate middle aged hooker is a terminable offense.
“Our apartment has cockroaches and centipedes and the back door/porch has spiders everywhere. Please have an exterminator come and check out our apartment, and then spray the doors/windows.”
They’re attracted to the odor of beer and pot smoke. I’m sure the urge to huff it will be overwhelming, but why don’t you try sweeping your porch and buying a can of Raid like normal, functioning adults?
“Our toilet is apparently clogged and continues to overflow. We need a plumber immediately.”
You NEED to stop flushing tampons, cigarette butts and the remains of your live kitten sacrifices. You NEED a plunger. Most importantly, you NEED a full frontal lobotomy.
“I pay good money to rent from you and if you refuse to cooperate, I’m sure there’s another company in town that will be happy to take my money.”
You’re $300 short on rent and complaining that the light bulb in your bathroom is the wrong color white and too dim. You are also dim. Change your own damn light bulb. Also? The vacancy rate in town is 1.2%. Good luck on your upcoming move. Tell Oscar the Grouch I said “whaddup.” You know, because you’ll be living next to him.
And finally, screw you, Fedex. You’ve had my sports bra on your truck for 2 days, using it as a hammock for all I know, because it wasn’t “due for delivery.” I’ll remember that around Christmas when I’m standing in line at the UPS store. Schmucks.
I know it’s only 4:00, but I have a very important date with an open bottle of wine.