Unit-by-unit inspections are something I loathe. It means, as the name implies, that we have to go inside every single unit to make sure everything is in working order and that people aren't living like complete slobs. I don't like seeing how other people live and it is the ultimate in adult babysitting because you have to tell them to basically "clean their room." Pigs.
One, always drunk and obnoxious, resident refused entry to the property manager, my boss, as soon as the door opened. She informed him what we were there for and he said, "let me make sure my drawers are open," or something along those lines then promptly shut the door in her face. When we came back to him later, he really put up a fight.
"What do you want to inspect, to make sure I fold my shorts the right way?" the boozy man slurred.
"No, we just want to check your smoke detectors and see if there are any leaks," my boss replied.
"Okay," he responded. I was surprised to think he was actually going to let her in. "But you can't go in the bedroom. There are two lesbians making love in there and I don't want you to see it."
Not surprisingly, there turned out to be no lesbians in the bedroom. His inebriated vision of "one black one and one white one" was clearly fictitious.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Mrs. Pickles
We need to spend some blog space introducing you to some of our residents so when we mention them by name later on, you will know who we are talking about. Every resident of ours has a nickname that either we or other residents have given them, even pre-blog.
Mrs. Pickles is an older woman with coarse gray hair that appears to have not been washed since we have known her (over a year). She stands at 5 feet with change and wears her teal coat any chance she can get. She is somewhere in her 60s, but don't ask her because she doesn't even know where she is in general. I don't know if she is experiencing early onset of Alzheimer's, or she is just crazy. I haven't known her long enough to know how long she has been this way. She doesn't remember anything that happened yesterday, or three minutes ago.
We will share experiences with her as we remember them. For now I want to share how she gained her nickname.
The pool at our complex had some shoddy piping used to fill the pool so I decided I would replace it. I had to dig down pretty deep to find where the pipe had broken. It was sunny and hot and I had spent a couple hours in the hole clearing out the water and prepping the pipes when Mrs. Pickles showed up. She noticed a big pot with new signs of plant life in it near where I was working.
"What's in here, Dexter?" She inquired.
"Um, I don't actually know, Mrs. Pickles. The Dragon Lady (another one for us to introduce you to) planted that and I don't remember what it was called," I responded, hoping for the conversation to end quickly.
"Oh... Well I think they look like pea plants," she guessed. Even though I couldn't remember the name of the plant I knew they were not pea plants. I wanted to see what crazy thing I could suggest the plant is that she would undoubtedly accept.
"No, Mrs. Pickles, I don't think that they are pea plants. I am pretty sure that they are pickle plants," I ventured with my border-seeking suggestion.
"Dexter! No!" I thought that I had crossed her crazy border. And then, "pickle plants don't look like that!"She exclaimed.
"You're right Mrs. Pickles, I am sorry. What I meant to say is that the Dragon Lady planted pickles. She will be growing zucchini.
Bingo.
"Oh. Well it sure is pretty!" said the newly nicknamed Mrs. Pickles.
Mrs. Pickles is an older woman with coarse gray hair that appears to have not been washed since we have known her (over a year). She stands at 5 feet with change and wears her teal coat any chance she can get. She is somewhere in her 60s, but don't ask her because she doesn't even know where she is in general. I don't know if she is experiencing early onset of Alzheimer's, or she is just crazy. I haven't known her long enough to know how long she has been this way. She doesn't remember anything that happened yesterday, or three minutes ago.
We will share experiences with her as we remember them. For now I want to share how she gained her nickname.
The pool at our complex had some shoddy piping used to fill the pool so I decided I would replace it. I had to dig down pretty deep to find where the pipe had broken. It was sunny and hot and I had spent a couple hours in the hole clearing out the water and prepping the pipes when Mrs. Pickles showed up. She noticed a big pot with new signs of plant life in it near where I was working.
"What's in here, Dexter?" She inquired.
"Um, I don't actually know, Mrs. Pickles. The Dragon Lady (another one for us to introduce you to) planted that and I don't remember what it was called," I responded, hoping for the conversation to end quickly.
"Oh... Well I think they look like pea plants," she guessed. Even though I couldn't remember the name of the plant I knew they were not pea plants. I wanted to see what crazy thing I could suggest the plant is that she would undoubtedly accept.
"No, Mrs. Pickles, I don't think that they are pea plants. I am pretty sure that they are pickle plants," I ventured with my border-seeking suggestion.
"Dexter! No!" I thought that I had crossed her crazy border. And then, "pickle plants don't look like that!"She exclaimed.
"You're right Mrs. Pickles, I am sorry. What I meant to say is that the Dragon Lady planted pickles. She will be growing zucchini.
Bingo.
"Oh. Well it sure is pretty!" said the newly nicknamed Mrs. Pickles.
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