Archive for January, 2012

“You’ve been a great tenant… but go f*ck yourself”

January 19, 2012

Well, she didn’t really say that, but that’s what ole Maria meant when I asked if I could move out on February 1st instead of January 31st. Let me explain. January 31st falls on a Tuesday: Inventory Day. No, it’s not a holiday so expect the banks to be open. Inventory Day is the moment where we all take 14 hours or so to verify that yes, indeed, we have 1,400 different labels of wine, over $650K of inventory and 7 wine rooms. Obviously, this is a huge project, requiring all three somms and the occasional assistant manager. So, I can’t have this day off. I wouldn’t even ask for it, I’d just be f’ing over the rest of the team.

“Maria, when is the new girl moving in? I’d appreciate moving out the 1st if that is even remotely possible,” I suggested.

“Honey, you’ve had a whole month. Where is she supposed to live? The street?” (that was typed in a legible manner as understanding this woman is next to impossible, let alone typing her dialect).

“No, I just wondered if it were possible to move out after Tuesday because….”

“Honey. You’ve had a month.”

“I understand that but I’ve been waiting for the current tenant to move out of my new apartment. It’s a bit of a dance,” I tried to reason with her. Maria’s patronizing tone was sorely taken. fortunately, the realtor happened to be in the room, so she assured me that she would reach out to the new tenant.

“I’ve got my dad coming up to help me move because Nick tore his ASL,” I tried to explain.

“Honey, you’ve had..”

“I know, a month.” I turned to the realtor who was a reasonable looking girl about my age. “Will you just get in touch with me if she doesn’t need the place exactly on the first? Otherwise we’ll just be moving at the same time.”

Maria realized she had been invited out of the conversation and immediately started a new one.

“Well, you’ve been a good tenant, always paying on time.”

Yea? But go fuck yourself. HONEY. My least favorite patronizing term. Bingo. You found it. Never mind that Nick has fixed your car six times, shoveled your driveway that we aren’t allowed to park in, and we’ve both dealt with you entering our apartment and never fixing that damned broken window. Thanks for everything, I’ll just leave the green paint up for you, Maria. Moving sucks as it is, waiting and dancing with the other tenants and trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to move my shit with a broken leg on my counter part and my dad flying in on Tuesday night. In case you forgot, Tuesday is inventory night and I won’t be able to get him. Stupid. Oh well. My new place has a washer and driver. So I won’t lose my socks and acquire baby clothing.

Is the laundry mat telling me something?

 

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