As I was rollin’ into work this morning, Cake’s Rock ‘n Roll Lifestyle came on the radio. I cranked that shit because it makes me immeasurably happy. They were trolling hipsters and entitled twatbadgers before it became an American pastime, and for that, I salute them.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is the weekend. And not just any weekend, but a HOLIDAY weekend! We’ve come through this long and arduous week, probably not completely unscathed, and perhaps a little worse for the wear, but certainly alive enough to enjoy 3 whole days off.
After the week I’ve had a little attitude adjustment is a good thing, though I completely deny being the one in need of the adjustment. It was a week rife with fuckery and promises of bodily injury (I don’t make threats.). On top of my usual dick-brained chode fluffers, I had 3 separate people tell me this week what my job is, and not one of those people signs my paycheck or works in my office.
A certain firm owns a house with two units that still aren’t rented, and very slim chance left to do so. It took them to match the market price, and the current tenants haven’t cleaned the place in like, two years. The place is a semi-occupied cave redolent of cheap beer, stale cigarettes, and swamp ass and no one wants to live in it. Yet, according to this firm, I need to do a better job of marketing. I should be updating Craigslist ads every day (violation of the ToS), changing the ad copy on website “x” every weekend (we don’t have access to their account), and actively engaging in daily social media networking and taking out Facebook ads. (Waste of time, waste of money, and fuck you.)
He “expects better results from the company we pay to manage the properties. It’s part of your job as management to stay on top of these things.”
“Uhm, no, it’s not. We’re not your management company. We do leasing and maintenance only. My ‘job’ in that respect includes the same level of marketing that I do for all my other properties, and if there were any special requirements that you had, it was your responsibility to bring them up well before now when you’re freaking out and looking for someone to blame. The apartment looks terrible, it was overpriced for 4 months, and you refused to grant us the authority to set or revise pricing. I’ve worked overtime to show show and market these properties, with you disregarding my advice at every turn. If these don’t rent, the blame falls squarely in your zip code, not mine.”
He got pissed off and hung up on me to go consult our contract. I never heard from him again, but I did get a call requesting that I coordinate and supervise cleaning and maintenance, followed by an hour of moving furniture and staging the units. Did I mention that I don’t make a penny above my regular wage if I get these rented for them?
Meanwhile, at a property a few miles away, I have an apartment scheduled for new carpet installation because the tenant is moving in this weekend. Only we’re running on a very tight schedule now, because my (not-so) favorite property owner, and the subject of a past WTF Friday kicked them off the premises on the basis that he “never authorized the work.” Are you fucking kidding me? I actually left the office to call him so that my coworkers have plausible deniability when it comes time for the official homicide investigation.
“I have half a mind to blow off my next appointment, drive over there and murder you RIGHT NOW!”
“In what sense?”
“In the sense that I crush your windpipe with my bare hands and you cease to live immediately afterward. What did you think I meant? And where the hell do you get off kicking out my carpet crew for work that I scheduled, with your permission, three weeks ago?!”
“I authorized that?”
“Well, I would rather that we wait so that I can use the extra money toward construction at the other building. That carpet will last another year.”
“That carpet is threadbare and it is being replaced whether you like it or not. You will stay out of that building, away from the carpet crew and you will stop interfering in my management duties, or you will rent your own properties next year. I have had enough of this shit. Do you understand me?!?”
A tenant scheduled for June 1st move-in wants to pick up her keys today to move in over the weekend. Unfortunately, the current tenants didn’t finish moving out until today and they lived there for 9 years, meaning that I have to clean, and paint, and replace carpet. The holiday weekend means that it won’t be ready until the afternoon of the 30th. When I explained this to the tenant, she threw a temper tantrum that a toddler would have slapped her for.
“This is ridiculous! I should be able to move in this weekend! I work during the week and can’t take time off work to move in the middle of the week!”
“You insisted that you wouldn’t sign a lease unless we replaced everything and that cannot be done in a day. You’ve had two months to make arrangements for moving and now you’ll just have to make do with getting your keys two days early instead of a week early.”
“I demand compensation! You order a new washer and dryer!”
“Not a chance. The washer and dryer that’s in the unit works perfectly fine. You just don’t like the color. Your keys will be ready on the 30th at 4:00. Remember to bring the remaining $200 for your security deposit.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You won’t be moving in.” *click*
Fuck.Me.Running. I consider the fact that I didn’t kick, punch, choke, stab, or run over somebody to be at least five miracles and I will be home all weekend waiting for the letter announcing my sainthood. Bring on the booze and have a drink people. We’ve earned it.