My little sociopaths are on spring break this week, so as campus housing goes, it’s been pretty quiet around here. Yet there was still plenty of fuckery to go around, so I’m going to finish this week with more tales of the weird from my strange ass job.
As I was showing a campus apartment yesterday, I found this laying on the floor of the living room, right next to the playstation controllers and a random black wig.
Far be it from me to judge what people do in their spare time, but this is a house full of dudes and that is one monster of a dildo. And one strange place for it to be stored. And one strange choice of hair piece. I just… I don’t… wow.
And that little tidbit rattled loose another story from a former job. One of our tenants called in a maintenance request in the evening after maintenance was gone for the day. The building contracts said that maintenance wouldn’t enter a unit before 10:00 am, so they happily waited until then and knocked on the door. No one answered, so they let themselves in. Not 30 seconds later, I got a call on the radio asking me to come up to the apartment to assist with something. They would not tell me what, so of course I knew it had to be good and I put up my little “BRB, lulz!” sign at the front desk and headed up.
I got off the elevator to see three of the 4 maintenance staff standing outside the apartment snickering at each other.
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Hey, can you test your master in the lock and make sure it’s working right?” *snicker*
“I know that’s not what you really want, but okay, I’ll play along.” Plausible deniability- don’t go to work without it.
So I opened the apartment door with my key and pushed the door wide open. In front of me on the living room floor was the tenant, passed out face down with his ass in the air, hugging a cheap (mostly empty) bottle of vodka in one hand and a very expensive dildo in the other.
No, I did not take pictures because what was seen that day will never, EVER be fucking unseen. But even though they wouldn’t cop to it, I know that every single one of those maintenance guys has the pics on his phone.
Late in the season last year, I was trying to rent a less popular apartment. It was a studio sized one bedroom and the dude had some seriously oversized furniture holding some expensive DJ equipment, and it was his night job that was getting him laid CONSTANTLY. Lucky for me, I got to be witness to this once.
I showed up at around 2:00 in the afternoon with a young man who was just starting law school that summer and he glanced around the living room and kitchen and poked his head into the closets and bathroom… you know, standard apartment tour. Then we stopped outside the closed bedroom door, and I knocked just in case he was getting dressed or sleeping. I heard the giggles of a female, so I knocked again a little louder and announced myself.
*more giggles from inside, followed by the tenants voice* “Just a minute!” *grunting* “Almost ready!” *more grunting*
“I’ll be done in a second!” *More grunting and a long sigh*
Then a female voice yelled out, full of righteous indignation, “Hey! What about me?”
Needless to say, I didn’t open that door, but the law school guy rented the apartment anyway. Go me.
Then there’s the one for which I’m shamelessly guilty.
I got this one from Jana. She was kind enough to don a pair of rubber gloves and ship it to me from a former crack house she’s somehow affiliated with, and it’s my job to find a creative new life for it. It’s currently the first thing you see when you turn into my apartment from the front door. Happy Friday, maintenance dude.
And happy Friday to you kids!