I got home from Boston tonight to find my apartment largely intact, which was a relief. Lately, I’m never sure what I’ll find when I come in. The other day, Evil Management Company or its minions, the Evil Brokers, left the door to my apartment wide open after they showed the place. For those of you who are keeping track at home, this means that I am protected from the outside world by two broken front doors, one wide-open back door and one unlocked apartment door. Sweet!
The door was locked this time, but my blinds were up and there were footprints everywhere, so I know they showed the place. I left the blinds down when I went away, which was a favor to them, really. I’m sure that the prospective tenant saw my view of the airshaft and ran screaming from the building. I hope he or she hit the broker with his or her purse on the way out.
I have a new plan to twart the Evil Ones, by the way. Before, I was just answering honestly whenever anyone asked me if this is a nice place to live. Now, I’m making the place look as shitty as possible by leaving empty antidepressant bottles and dirty underwear absolutely everwhere. I might actually ask my friends for empty liquor bottles, too, just to complete the portrait. The portrait, of course, is called “This Apartment is Currently Rented by One Bummed-Out Whore. Don’t You Want to Be Like Her? You Know You Do. That’ll be $7000, Please. Don’t Stub Your Toe on Your New Fridge on the Way to Your New Bathroom.”
(Do you think it’s too long? Cuz I could work on it.)
2 thoughts on “Me Against the Evil Management Company: Part 2”
You need to find the bum who left the present in the front hall and hire him to continue his beautification process after you depart.
I have another couple of helpful hints in Ms. Smash’s attempt to control the goofy RE people.
I just installed a rather sophisticated security system that came with about 50 stickers saying, “Under 24 HOUR Video Surveillance” Stick one of those on your front door so people think they are, just maybe, being watched.
Also, put another, hand-written sign on the door, “Hey there, Real-estate Slut! Wipe your friggin’ feet. You are tracking bum doodoo from the hall into my cage.”
With any luck, one or the other will cause a complaint to you from your management company, on whom you can then lower both barrels.