I've complained about the landlord. I've complained about the laundry. Now it's time to complain about the trash.
As I've said, the Langmore is divided into five apartments (four are currently occupied) and two store fronts. At the rear of the parking lot, there are four trash large trash bins and a yellow can for recyclables. When we first moved into the building, Rich and Kim lived in the apartment next to ours (the unit we are moving into). Rich can only be described as the "extreme-macho man" and always took it upon himself to get things done around the building (trash, tree maintenance, shoveling snow, etc). In our town, trash needs to be taken out Tuesday nights for pick up on Wednesday morning.
Since Rich moved out two months ago, the building seems to be at a loss of who supposed to take out the trash. The week after Rich moved out, Rachel and I took the trash to the street. Apparently, by taking the trash out the first week, we have been assigned trash duty in the building. It's become an unspoken fact around the building. In the last two months, we've taken the trash out six times. Six times is equivalent to 80% of the trash removal from the building!
About a month ago, we came home late on Tuesday night and one of our neighbors took the trash out to the curb. A few weeks later, Rachel and I went to Laura's for fire and meat, and I thought it I was safe to assume that a neighbor would once again take care of the trash. I was very wrong. Of course, I didn't realize this until Wednesday morning when I was heading to work. As I pulled my car out of the driveway, I noticed that the trash cans were still in the back of the parking lot. Obviously I didn't have the time to take them out to the curb by this point, and headed to work instead, fuming the entire ride there.
Once again, Rachel and I were stuck doing trash duty. Of course Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl left the trash area a mess, with huge cardboard boxes on top of the trash bins, along with the vanity from our apartment and two heavy sinks in front of the walkway in front of the trash. Since the left the area a disaster, the rest of the building decided to do the same, throwing their trashbags on top of the recyclables container. I'm pretty sure that the plumbers were supposed to take all of their trash with them, and not leave it for the tenants to clean up, but then again we're talking about Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl.
Rachel and I did what any good tenant would do: we drug the heavy sinks and vanity to the back of the trash area and dumped them there. I'm sorry, it's not my responsibility to lug heavy sinks to the curb. Plus, I don't even think the trashmen will take anything that's not in a trash can. After throwing the boxes left by the plumbers on top of the mess the flower shop left in the back of the trash area (don't even get me started on the raccoon/rat infestation the flower shop has created). After leaving behind all the garbage the plumbers left for us, Rachel and I finally took the remaining trash out.
Golden Rule 7: Nobody wants to take your garbage out, especially your neighbors. Pitch in and take the bins out more than twice in a two month period. Your not special!
Golden Rule 8: Contractors are responsible for the trash they may bring to the site with them and all trash they create while there. Don't expect others to do your work for you. It's ignorant and rude.
Showing posts with label Golden Rule. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Golden Rule. Show all posts
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Laundry at The Langmore
The Langmore is divided into five apartments and two store fronts, with each unit responsible for the gas and electric. Each unit is not responsible for the water bill, instead Mark uses a portion of the rent each month to cover the expenses of water. Additionally, Mark installed a coin operated washer and dryer in the basement to cover the cost of doing laundry. I'm assuming that unlike gas and electric companies, the water company cannot determine how much water is used in each unit, therefore he covers the cost for the entire building.
Along with a washer and dryer, there are also two tables and a shelf for our laundry detergent and dryer sheets. The two tables are for folding laundry, however, one of my neighbors, John, has insisted that the tables are his personal dresser. He does a load of laundry, but never comes downstairs to retrieve it. The only time I've ever seen him remove anything from the dryer was on the rare occasions when he has more than one load of wash. Then he has no choice but to remove his clothes from the dryer.
Typically, he leaves his clothes in the dryer until someone else in the building needs to do laundry. When someone needs to use the dryer, they have no choice but to remove all of John's clothes and leave them on one of the tables, in hopes that he'll come downstairs and get them. Of course he never does though. Instead, they sit there, the pile slowly getting smaller as he needs things.
I've decided there is a solution to this problem. Next time I do laundry, I'm bringing a box with me downstairs. All of his clothes are going into the box and the box is going under the table. If he wants to use the basement as his personal dressing area, then he can do so through the U-Haul box I've left for him.
Golden Rule 6: When doing laundry at a public facility, remove your clothes from the dryer. Nobody wants to touch your funky underwear, even if they just came from the dryer.
Along with a washer and dryer, there are also two tables and a shelf for our laundry detergent and dryer sheets. The two tables are for folding laundry, however, one of my neighbors, John, has insisted that the tables are his personal dresser. He does a load of laundry, but never comes downstairs to retrieve it. The only time I've ever seen him remove anything from the dryer was on the rare occasions when he has more than one load of wash. Then he has no choice but to remove his clothes from the dryer.
Typically, he leaves his clothes in the dryer until someone else in the building needs to do laundry. When someone needs to use the dryer, they have no choice but to remove all of John's clothes and leave them on one of the tables, in hopes that he'll come downstairs and get them. Of course he never does though. Instead, they sit there, the pile slowly getting smaller as he needs things.
I've decided there is a solution to this problem. Next time I do laundry, I'm bringing a box with me downstairs. All of his clothes are going into the box and the box is going under the table. If he wants to use the basement as his personal dressing area, then he can do so through the U-Haul box I've left for him.
Golden Rule 6: When doing laundry at a public facility, remove your clothes from the dryer. Nobody wants to touch your funky underwear, even if they just came from the dryer.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
In August of 2009, Rachel and I moved into a two bedroom apartment located in The Langmore, a historical building located in Mullica Hill. Our apartment came with hardwood floors, a porch/balcony, and a garage. Our landlord Mark, can only be explained as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, since one minute he is pleasant with a touch of goofy and the next minute he is grouchy, as if someone shoved something up his pooper and he can’t get it out.
During the tour of the building and lease signing, we dealt with Dr. Jekyll. The man was eager to please, willing to negotiate the price of the nonrefundable cat deposit, going from his original asking price of $750 to $250. Of course it wasn’t until after we had already signed the lease, that Mr. Hyde came out.
First, there was the problem with the fridge. Prior to the move, Rachel and I came to the empty apartment and scrubbed the place from the floorboards to the ceiling. Rachel soon realized there was a huge problem with the fridge. Since the previous tenants had left the fridge/freezer doors closed with no electricity, it began to grow mold. The seal on the freezer had been broken and the mold spread into it. Originally, Mark agreed to have the fridge replaced, but then backed out on his agreement. He then said he would have a cleaning crew come out, but failed to even do that. At this point, we had been living in the apartment for about a month and been using two mini-fridges. Finally, after going back and forth about the fridge, he finally replaced it.
Roughly a month after replacing the fridge, the ceiling above the shower began to leak. Imagine the horror of taking a shower and brown water dropping on your forehead when you're about to get out. I called Mr. Hyde, who explained that it was normal for old buildings to leak from time to time and “not to worry about it.”
Let me get this straight, I’m not supposed to worry that there is water dripping from the ceiling that looks and smells like rancid diarrhea? Within days of the initial leak, the ceiling began to rain. About seven or eight different spots in the ceiling began to leak, then the walls started. Again, we made more phone calls, and even called the plumber. This only made Mr. Hyde even more angry, until the problem was finally fixed. (Turns out that the apartment above us had a leaking shower faucet and failed to say anything about it. The water leaked into the caulking of her tub, leaked into the walls, and eventually dripped into our bathroom).
Rachel and I decided we would only call Mark on emergency situations, and have only had to deal with him a handful of times since the tub incident. When I learned of my layoff, our neighbors, Rich and Kim, moved out and Mark had put up a notice for a one bedroom apartment for rent. Rachel and I jumped on the opportunity, since it would save us roughly $150 a month in rent. We made arrangements with Mark, with us moving into the new apartment by July 15th and new tenants moving into our apartment by late July. Prior to the move he wanted to have lots of work done on both apartments, such as the electric (changing the fuse boxes into circuit breakers), painting both apartments (the new apartment has a fire engine red dining room and black bathroom), and replacing the sink and vanity in our current apartment.
In early July, Rachel and I were both at work, when he entered our apartment unannounced. (In NJ, there are laws protecting tenants, such as landlord needing to give 24 hours notice before entering an apartment alone). Rachel and I had been extremely busy that week, and our place had become “a little” messy. Mr. Hyde had the nerve to leave a note in our bathroom sink that our cats smelled!
I’m sorry…excuse me! You weren’t even supposed to be in our apartment!
In early July, Mark gave Stephanie and her daughter, the tenants to our apartment, a tour of our place, Since we had notice of the tour, Rachel and I scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom. We made sure that every nook and cranny had been cleaned. Mark made no mention of any “funny” smells from our apartment until weeks later when he talked to Rachel on the phone about replacing the sink and vanity (which is a whole other story). Of course, in typical Mark style, he tells Rachel that our apartment smelled like cat box when he gave Stephanie the tour, and that we would have to pay a new deposit for the new apartment.
Rachel was already having a stressful day, which included her coming home from work early from being sick, and the last think she needed was Mr. Hyde getting her more stressed about the cats. During the work being done yesterday, I had to deal with Mark twice, luckily he was in a Dr. Jekyll mood. Not only did he show me the new paint job in the apartment, he also told me that the cat deposit would be waived.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Mark hates Rachel. To him, being able to tell her “No” about something evokes the same feelings as a five year old boy on Christmas who just opened his dream gift. On the other hand, if I ask him the same question (or even question his judgment) he jumps for joy for me.
Which brings me to Golden Rule #5:
Golden Rule 5: Unless I’m physically unable to speak, Rachel is not allowed to have any communication with our landlord. This also includes allowing her phone to go straight to voicemail when he calls.
During the tour of the building and lease signing, we dealt with Dr. Jekyll. The man was eager to please, willing to negotiate the price of the nonrefundable cat deposit, going from his original asking price of $750 to $250. Of course it wasn’t until after we had already signed the lease, that Mr. Hyde came out.
First, there was the problem with the fridge. Prior to the move, Rachel and I came to the empty apartment and scrubbed the place from the floorboards to the ceiling. Rachel soon realized there was a huge problem with the fridge. Since the previous tenants had left the fridge/freezer doors closed with no electricity, it began to grow mold. The seal on the freezer had been broken and the mold spread into it. Originally, Mark agreed to have the fridge replaced, but then backed out on his agreement. He then said he would have a cleaning crew come out, but failed to even do that. At this point, we had been living in the apartment for about a month and been using two mini-fridges. Finally, after going back and forth about the fridge, he finally replaced it.
Roughly a month after replacing the fridge, the ceiling above the shower began to leak. Imagine the horror of taking a shower and brown water dropping on your forehead when you're about to get out. I called Mr. Hyde, who explained that it was normal for old buildings to leak from time to time and “not to worry about it.”
Let me get this straight, I’m not supposed to worry that there is water dripping from the ceiling that looks and smells like rancid diarrhea? Within days of the initial leak, the ceiling began to rain. About seven or eight different spots in the ceiling began to leak, then the walls started. Again, we made more phone calls, and even called the plumber. This only made Mr. Hyde even more angry, until the problem was finally fixed. (Turns out that the apartment above us had a leaking shower faucet and failed to say anything about it. The water leaked into the caulking of her tub, leaked into the walls, and eventually dripped into our bathroom).
Rachel and I decided we would only call Mark on emergency situations, and have only had to deal with him a handful of times since the tub incident. When I learned of my layoff, our neighbors, Rich and Kim, moved out and Mark had put up a notice for a one bedroom apartment for rent. Rachel and I jumped on the opportunity, since it would save us roughly $150 a month in rent. We made arrangements with Mark, with us moving into the new apartment by July 15th and new tenants moving into our apartment by late July. Prior to the move he wanted to have lots of work done on both apartments, such as the electric (changing the fuse boxes into circuit breakers), painting both apartments (the new apartment has a fire engine red dining room and black bathroom), and replacing the sink and vanity in our current apartment.
In early July, Rachel and I were both at work, when he entered our apartment unannounced. (In NJ, there are laws protecting tenants, such as landlord needing to give 24 hours notice before entering an apartment alone). Rachel and I had been extremely busy that week, and our place had become “a little” messy. Mr. Hyde had the nerve to leave a note in our bathroom sink that our cats smelled!
I’m sorry…excuse me! You weren’t even supposed to be in our apartment!
In early July, Mark gave Stephanie and her daughter, the tenants to our apartment, a tour of our place, Since we had notice of the tour, Rachel and I scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom. We made sure that every nook and cranny had been cleaned. Mark made no mention of any “funny” smells from our apartment until weeks later when he talked to Rachel on the phone about replacing the sink and vanity (which is a whole other story). Of course, in typical Mark style, he tells Rachel that our apartment smelled like cat box when he gave Stephanie the tour, and that we would have to pay a new deposit for the new apartment.
Rachel was already having a stressful day, which included her coming home from work early from being sick, and the last think she needed was Mr. Hyde getting her more stressed about the cats. During the work being done yesterday, I had to deal with Mark twice, luckily he was in a Dr. Jekyll mood. Not only did he show me the new paint job in the apartment, he also told me that the cat deposit would be waived.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Mark hates Rachel. To him, being able to tell her “No” about something evokes the same feelings as a five year old boy on Christmas who just opened his dream gift. On the other hand, if I ask him the same question (or even question his judgment) he jumps for joy for me.
Which brings me to Golden Rule #5:
Golden Rule 5: Unless I’m physically unable to speak, Rachel is not allowed to have any communication with our landlord. This also includes allowing her phone to go straight to voicemail when he calls.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Golden Rules 1
Fast Food Drive-Thru Lane
Last week, I started craving a Volcano Burrito from Taco Bell (yum). I’ve been trying to take Rachel’s approach to food cravings and see how long I can wait them out to try to save on calories. I finally caved in to my craving and went to Taco Bell after work. All I wanted was a Volcano Burrito. That’s it.
I pulled into the drive-thru lane, which was a huge mistake. In front of me was a van with I believe only two people in it, the driver and passenger. The driver was a heavy set man who could not make up his mind of what he wanted. I sat in my car for a good ten minutes listening to the radio, when I realized that I had been sitting there for that long. Out of curiosity, I turned the radio off, rolled down the window, and listened to the driver place his order.
It was a wonder why I had been sitting there for that long, he was the most indecisive, unsure individual I had ever seen. I listened for another 10 minutes as he changed his mind, asked what ingredients were on each individual item on the menu, converse with the passenger, place his order, change his mind, ask for the Taco Bell employee to repeat his order back, change items on the list, ask again what was on the Nachos Bell Grande, ask how many tomatoes come on the Nachos Bell Grande, converse some more with the passenger, adjust his seat belt, change items on the list…
When I arrived at Taco Bell, there were only two cars in the drive-thru: Indecisive Driver and myself. At this point, the line wrapped around the building and almost spilled into the parking lot. There were actually people honking at this point, which I thought was hilarious.
Finally, Indecisive Driver placed his order and drove to the next window. I pulled up next and ordered my Volcano Burrito, but obviously couldn’t move forward because Indecisive Driver was still trying to pay for his meal. I finally see relief in front of me when the Taco Bell employee reached out with Indecisive Driver’s one bag of food and small drink, but it was only a mirage. Indecisive Driver now wants a fork to go with his meal. The Taco Bell employee hands him his fork, but of course, Indecisive Driver drops the fork. I think even the Taco Bell employee was ready to strangle him because he reached out with a handful of forks this time.
Golden Rule 1: When ordering from a fast food restaurant, if you are not aware of what you want to order or the contents of the meal you are ordering, DO NOT go through the drive thru window.
Wawa Man
Summer school always kicks me in the ass because it’s in the beginning of the summer. By the end of June, my brain is like “Yay! It’s summer!” and I’m ready to stay up late. However, summer school usually begins within days of the regular school year, which results in me staying up way too late and waking up groggy and needing a desperate shot of caffeine. Obviously the solution to this problem is to stay up late and rely on Wawa’s delicious selection of coffee.
I head into Wawa this morning and almost drove the plastic straws into my eye sockets to remove the scene I had just witnessed. I was standing at the coffee station towards the back of the store facing the door. I had just put my lid on, when Obese Grossness walks in the door.
Obese Grossness is wearing cargo khaki shorts that can only be classified as short-shorts. They may have even came from the women’s section. They barely reach his mid thigh, though luckily, they weren’t skin tight. Along with the cargo khaki short-shorts, he was wearing a red construction shirt of some sort, that barely reached the top of the shorts. He enters the store and decides to stretch, throwing his arms in the air, causing two things to happen: 1) his already short shirt raising well above the belly button and 2) the world to see his wet/sweaty armpits.
Who does that…really?
Golden Rule 2: Unless you are in a gym, at no point in your life should you find it necessary to stretch in public.
Golden Rule 3: Any form of shorts that allow me to see any part of the leg before the knee cap on a man should be banned. In fact, if a man decides to wear such shorts, the punishment should be that man should be forced to wear a skirt for two weeks.
Having a Conversation - While Peeing in the Bathroom Stalls
Public restrooms are already a strange concept, especially when you have ten toilets lines up, enclosed by stall walls that has the sole purpose of showing a person with their pants down. Honestly, I find the entire experience a little bit awkward. Do they really need that 6 inch gap between the bottom of the stall wall to the floor?
There’s only one thing worse, entering a bathroom to find two people in stalls next to each other, having an entire conversation between the stall walls. You can’t pause the conversation for 60 seconds to do your business and then pick up the conversation afterwards?
There’s only one thing that makes this already uncomfortable situation even worse: when it happens to me. I was having a conversation with someone this afternoon at work and we both headed into the bathroom at the same time. Pee Talker went into the stall next to me and continued the conversation.
Please…don’t talk to me when I’m in the stall next to me. Actually, a good rule to follow is that if you are in a stall, it’s pretty much a good idea not to talk to anyone, whether they are in a stall next to you or waiting for you by the sinks.
Golden Rule 4: While in the bathroom, DO NOT under any circumstance, talk to another person while in a bathroom stall.
Last week, I started craving a Volcano Burrito from Taco Bell (yum). I’ve been trying to take Rachel’s approach to food cravings and see how long I can wait them out to try to save on calories. I finally caved in to my craving and went to Taco Bell after work. All I wanted was a Volcano Burrito. That’s it.
I pulled into the drive-thru lane, which was a huge mistake. In front of me was a van with I believe only two people in it, the driver and passenger. The driver was a heavy set man who could not make up his mind of what he wanted. I sat in my car for a good ten minutes listening to the radio, when I realized that I had been sitting there for that long. Out of curiosity, I turned the radio off, rolled down the window, and listened to the driver place his order.
It was a wonder why I had been sitting there for that long, he was the most indecisive, unsure individual I had ever seen. I listened for another 10 minutes as he changed his mind, asked what ingredients were on each individual item on the menu, converse with the passenger, place his order, change his mind, ask for the Taco Bell employee to repeat his order back, change items on the list, ask again what was on the Nachos Bell Grande, ask how many tomatoes come on the Nachos Bell Grande, converse some more with the passenger, adjust his seat belt, change items on the list…
When I arrived at Taco Bell, there were only two cars in the drive-thru: Indecisive Driver and myself. At this point, the line wrapped around the building and almost spilled into the parking lot. There were actually people honking at this point, which I thought was hilarious.
Finally, Indecisive Driver placed his order and drove to the next window. I pulled up next and ordered my Volcano Burrito, but obviously couldn’t move forward because Indecisive Driver was still trying to pay for his meal. I finally see relief in front of me when the Taco Bell employee reached out with Indecisive Driver’s one bag of food and small drink, but it was only a mirage. Indecisive Driver now wants a fork to go with his meal. The Taco Bell employee hands him his fork, but of course, Indecisive Driver drops the fork. I think even the Taco Bell employee was ready to strangle him because he reached out with a handful of forks this time.
Golden Rule 1: When ordering from a fast food restaurant, if you are not aware of what you want to order or the contents of the meal you are ordering, DO NOT go through the drive thru window.
Wawa Man
Summer school always kicks me in the ass because it’s in the beginning of the summer. By the end of June, my brain is like “Yay! It’s summer!” and I’m ready to stay up late. However, summer school usually begins within days of the regular school year, which results in me staying up way too late and waking up groggy and needing a desperate shot of caffeine. Obviously the solution to this problem is to stay up late and rely on Wawa’s delicious selection of coffee.
I head into Wawa this morning and almost drove the plastic straws into my eye sockets to remove the scene I had just witnessed. I was standing at the coffee station towards the back of the store facing the door. I had just put my lid on, when Obese Grossness walks in the door.
Obese Grossness is wearing cargo khaki shorts that can only be classified as short-shorts. They may have even came from the women’s section. They barely reach his mid thigh, though luckily, they weren’t skin tight. Along with the cargo khaki short-shorts, he was wearing a red construction shirt of some sort, that barely reached the top of the shorts. He enters the store and decides to stretch, throwing his arms in the air, causing two things to happen: 1) his already short shirt raising well above the belly button and 2) the world to see his wet/sweaty armpits.
Who does that…really?
Golden Rule 2: Unless you are in a gym, at no point in your life should you find it necessary to stretch in public.
Golden Rule 3: Any form of shorts that allow me to see any part of the leg before the knee cap on a man should be banned. In fact, if a man decides to wear such shorts, the punishment should be that man should be forced to wear a skirt for two weeks.
Having a Conversation - While Peeing in the Bathroom Stalls
Public restrooms are already a strange concept, especially when you have ten toilets lines up, enclosed by stall walls that has the sole purpose of showing a person with their pants down. Honestly, I find the entire experience a little bit awkward. Do they really need that 6 inch gap between the bottom of the stall wall to the floor?
There’s only one thing worse, entering a bathroom to find two people in stalls next to each other, having an entire conversation between the stall walls. You can’t pause the conversation for 60 seconds to do your business and then pick up the conversation afterwards?
There’s only one thing that makes this already uncomfortable situation even worse: when it happens to me. I was having a conversation with someone this afternoon at work and we both headed into the bathroom at the same time. Pee Talker went into the stall next to me and continued the conversation.
Please…don’t talk to me when I’m in the stall next to me. Actually, a good rule to follow is that if you are in a stall, it’s pretty much a good idea not to talk to anyone, whether they are in a stall next to you or waiting for you by the sinks.
Golden Rule 4: While in the bathroom, DO NOT under any circumstance, talk to another person while in a bathroom stall.
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