BAD KITTY: Another Dead Mouse

Now I love my Georgie Girl, she is an Angora mix, who often regresses to her ‘jungle cat’ roots:

She is affectionate

She keeps my feet warm at night

She does hog the bed

However, the Labrador and kitty have developed an alliance.

The last two nights they have been tearing around the apartment, working in tandem.

Judging by the dark red spot on the living room carpet, this might is not the first mouse they have captured. But this last pitiful critter was laying outside my closet door.

Awwwhh, she was giving me a present: and it is not yet Christmas!

Bad Kitty!

Bad Doggie!

They are taking over.

Help.

Thieves and Damned Thieves

Not that I condone, but you do have to admire someone who pulls off a major heist, but wonder: If you have that much talent, skill and organization, wouldn’t it be easier to work legitimately and know you will earn a steady check? Plus the perks of benefits? Oh, and a great reputation for your ingenuity, with quality friends?

But Petty Thieves have Worked My Last Nerve!

Years ago, I stopped to wash and vacuum out my car. While vacuuming between the front seats, I placed my very cheap, but full, plastic coffee cup on the curb: just for a moment. I forgot about it, then drove over to the gas pumps. Only ONE car used the vacuum after me, and he took my mug with coffee still in it! Yes, I searched the trash. Drat, that was the mug that actually kept the coffee warm.

Toilet Paper & Paper Towels

They walk out of every empty unit: Not even full rolls. We know who it is, he is just that damn sneaky, and if I confront him, he becomes belligerent and a bit scary. If I anyone is working in the unit, he will slip in real friendly, check all the cabinets for supplies and help himself.

Cleaning Supplies

I filled up trigger bottles and should have two bottles of everything: but I don’t. A popular dish detergent brand was selling jumbo bottles shrink wrapped with a smaller bottle. Great for me to just have a little bottle in my bucket when washing out the fridge shelves: have only one left out of four.

Paint Brushes

We have a storage closet of paint supplies, shelves of drop clothes, paint trays and NO #$@#$ brushes! The Purdy brushes are kept in my apartment, but those very handy and cheap 1” and 2” brushes keep walking.

My New Garden Hoses!

This past Spring and Summer I wrote about my garden, it gave me such pleasure watching all those flowers come up, plus eating veggies and herbs from the garden. So many people complimented me and admired the results. I bought supplies, and one thing was that new and lightweight expanding garden hose. It was funny watching 15 feet of hose actually shrink small enough to stow in a small flowerpot. Beats the heck out of the old traditional rubber, hard-to-manage standard hose.

But some bastard, thought they had the right to rummage through the shelves in the furnace room and shop for themselves. Hoses, planters, trash bags, just whatever the Entitled People of this world justify stealing! Kiss my Irish a**!

My Cigarettes

Yeah, it’s a bad habit, but just because my back is turned while I am working, doesn’t entitle anyone to clip a few from my pack. Or worse yet, you come into my apartment to pay rent and leave with my pack.

99% of Tenants are Great

Don’t get me wrong, we are not occupied by low-lifes, we have so many quality tenants; but shake any family tree, any workplace, neighborhood and those sneaky bastards are lurking, scheming an opportunity. See my post on "Difficult People."

Get a Job!

Wouldn’t it be easier, and financially steady, to just take a job, any job. You will be guaranteed a steady $ each week: Then set a budget and live within it! I am sure the infamous sneak-thief Bernie Madoff is enjoying his ‘3 hots and a cot’ alienated from his family, friends and hated for the lives he ruined.

But such people are miserable bastards who couldn’t enjoy winning the lottery: it wouldn’t be enough, would cry the government took too much, or they would blew it on stupidity.

But as I bluntly told one problem person recently (who was trying to kiss up to me): "There are people who live miserable lives, they will die just as miserable, and no one will miss them."

There was no reply.

They are just exhausting. Thank you for letting me vent.

More Sneaky Prospective Tenants

Prospective Tenants Do Not Disrespect Me!

The Business Manager called, stated that she was concerned about a prospective tenant that she was sending over, and asked that I carefully question the applicant.

A woman arrived, accompanied by a man, but I spotted a second man climbing out of the back seat, clutching a MacDonald’s brown bag.

Why would you bring lunch to view an apartment?

When showing an apartment, I usually wait for ALL parties, give the tour, then ask questions, but this woman just breezed through each room, and demanded, “What upgrades are you planning?”

Me, thinking: “Wow, can we introduce each other first, and don’t you care what is included in the rent?”

AFTER introductions were made, I stated: “New paint and all new carpets only.” Judging by your frown as you rummaged through every cabinet and drawer, were you expecting a complete remodel just for your highness? Perhaps top-of-the-line appliances and cabinets.

I introduced myself and asked who would be renting here, looked at the woman and the first young man, but the woman simply answered that she was, and the first young man shook his head. (Clearly the implication was that ONLY this woman would be living here.)

By this time the second fellow has come in: no introductions.

I asked about her employment and income, then expressed my doubts that she could manage on her own.

At that point, Dude No. 2, boldly stepped forward and laughed: “That would be me, I bring the money.”

Little smart-ass, are you the dealer? Numbers runner?

Me, glaring at Dude No. 2: “Excuse me, I am used to someone introducing themselves to me when they enter the room. Let’s start again: My name is … and you are…?” Clearly he needed a lesson in manners and respect.

When he introduced himself as the husband, I turned to the woman, a bit snarky, and reminded her that she had stated that the apartment was for her, nothing was said about a husband. She actually defended herself that the apartment IS for her. Am I the only one who doesn’t buy that?

I CLEARLY asked just how many people would be living here, only then they admitted that they have a three-year old child: as she had been repeatedly tugging at her jacket, I suspect she was hiding a baby-bump?

OK, I was officially done. These people are rude, a bit sneaky and have wasted my time.

Me, very blunt: “This is a ONE bedroom apartment and the Code Department states that only TWO people may live here, when discovered, you will pay a $1,000 fine for violating the townships’ code.”

Idiots! I am the apartment manager, if you try sneaking something past me BEFORE you even get an application, why the heck should I trust you to LIVE HERE?! This conversation was over.

The Business Manager was immediately called: Those guys were never offered an application.

My parting thoughts: “Please let the screen door hit you in your a** on the way out.”

This *Thanksgivukkah’ things to be grateful for . . .

Planes, Trains, Automobiles and plentiful hotel choices: Company only comes for a few hours, NOT a fortnight (it used to be two whole weeks of in-laws, cousins and kids all camped out in your home).

GPS: Face it, many people simply cannot give directions, so with the few black hole-like exceptions, use it.

This is for the men: Give the women a chance to be grateful and love you even more, load the dishwasher and scrub the pans . . . then corral the kids and cousins who are sugared-up and over-tired.

And always remember the wise warning from Dear Abby: Holidays, weddings and funerals should bring comfort/joy, NOT the next generations’ feud, so lighten up on each other.

Reservations: They always work!

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*It’s ‘Thanksgivukkah’, when Chanukah and Thanksgiving share the same day . . . Looking back, this is approximately correct – the last time it would have happened is 1861. However, Thanksgiving was only formally established by President Lincoln in 1863. So, it has never happened before. (http://geyserville.towns.pressdemocrat.com)

Another Dammed, Thieving Vagrant!

These apartments are two buildings, L-shaped, and the inside rear apartment has always been a problem: a few former problem tenants had questionable company sneaking in through the alleyway and back windows; and whenever vacant, it has often been broken into by vagrants.

The former tenant had left a few things behind, and we tossed all but a sofa, microwave and some miscellaneous stuff (which I jammed into the microwave).

Aaarrgh! They struck again.

I had made sure the windows were locked.

I had made sure the door was locked.

I did take photos.

I had left all the lights on.

I had checked it often. Obviously not often enough.

3:30 pm

Now, I am not accusing certain neighbors, but it was odd that I saw this dude pacing back and forth across the back building, then talking to someone standing behind the stairwell wall.

8:30 pm

Same people, same pacing, same gut feeling.

This time I went around the back alley and checked the apartment. Yep, locked up tight: I went home.

Two days later, I went back with a helper to finish up AND found the microwave plugged in! Someone had obviously slept on the sofa. The toilet seat was left up. The steel stepladder was taken. The paper towel spindle AND towels were gone. The vacuum, cleaning supplies and my tools did remain. Whew.

Called the owner. Called the locksmith. As the workman finished up, again we checked all the windows. (These windows have little tabs, wings, on the inside, so that you may raise the window an inch or so, but no higher. I sold these windows one miserable summer years ago; those little tabs will prevent the window from being forced open from the outside.) As we checked the inside window, which ‘looked’ like it was in locked position, actually wasn’t, and could be easily slid open from the outside.

Then we noticed that someone had broken the tabs from the inside. Idiots, my tools were on the kitchen counter, the needle-nose pliers would have done a better job.

Someone had planned to come back often and camp out. Heck you boldly plugged in the microwave!

When we locked up, I placed the packaging for the new dead bolt just inside the window frame. Made sure that they could plainly see it when they tried to force that window back up.

I want security cameras and prosecute the little #$@$#%!

Rude Contractor: Parking Space Hog

A family member is in the hospital, a big sprawling complex, however the parking allotted for visitors is the size of a postage stamp. One would have better luck finding a space at the local shopping mall on Black Friday!

As I drove around, I spotted this contractor in a huge van, pulled clear across 2 spaces.

Obviously, he is NOT working, or he would have been parked out back by the loading docks. Heck, he could have been nice and parked his massive truck there and NO ONE would have questioned him.

If he had pulled forward, a Le Car, or any sub-compact car could have fit in there nicely, but he is a big dude, and what the heck, who’s gonna stop him?

But wait, this is a COMPANY truck . . . does his company KNOW he is here for 4-plus hours. Of course, concern for whomever he was visiting, but manners for the other visitors who needed a spot.

Again, thank you all for letting me vent, oh, but that’s what this blog is all about!

It Really is a Small World

As I passed the moving crew for one of our new tenants, I chatted politely, bid the new tenant welcome and went on my way. But I kept glancing back at one of the young women among her friends, kinda “do I know you?” As I was busy, I just went on my way.

However, a few days later, the new tenant came to my door and asked if I knew a Lisa X? Name didn’t ring a bell.

Then she apologized and said, “Oh, she is married now, her maiden name was XYZ.”

Wow! Yeah I did. A loooong time ago, when my son was small, I had many friends with young children, we socialized and babysat each other’s kids. We would lose track of each other, reconnect, then move away: Just like so many friends that drift through our lives. And I confessed, that I always mixed up the names of the young lady and her sister, and affectionately called them both ‘Fred.’ I passed on my regards to Fred, mom and dad and siblings. Nice memories.

And grateful that she and her mom had fond memories of me too.

The last time I saw that young woman, she was a teenager, now she is a young woman, married with children of her own. Sigh.

Texas Longhorn on a Mustang

As I was driving thru a gas station, after getting my morning Dunkin’, I spotted this fellow driving a classic Mustang. I can’t be sure of the year, 1965/66. Back in the day, I owned a 1966 Mustang, blue. A blast to drive, and once caught my speedometer at 140 on the New York Thruway (My dad called it the 'New York Quikway'). Too late to ticket me now!

But back to this pix. The driver was at first annoyed when I blocked his path, but laughed when he saw that I was trying to snap a quick cell phone pix of his car.

I have seen Texas Longhorns on pickup trucks and on Cadillacs, but NEVER on a classic Mustang!

Plus he has fuzzy dice dangling from his rearview mirror.

Just like I have.

We must be kindred spirits.

More Gutter Planters

Attention Homeowners:

You know it is time to clean the gutters when they start sagging from the weight of dirt, debris and the trees that have taken root in them.

See my previous post on "Reason to Clean Those Gutters."

Maybe homeowners and building managers need to just get off their butts and walk around their buildings at least once a decade and do some preventive maintenance. That picture is just so sad!

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This last one is a poor shot, but I had lived in this building about 25 years ago. It was a huge apartment with original subway tile around the kitchen and honeycomb tiles on the bathroom floor. A wonderful home, and neighborhood for my son. Then a new landlord bought the building and made a big show fixing up the place. He also announced that he didn’t want any children living there. Very illegal, and of course, he stated his intentions privately: and jacked up the rent. So when I drove by and saw the crap accumulating in the back alleyway and the deplorable state of the front gutters, I couldn’t resist taking a pix.

A tenant came out and asked what I was doing. I inquired about the owner’s name: Same rude guy. The tenant asked if I wanted to pass a message. I clearly gave my name and stated my intentions to post this online to embarrass him.

Corner of Fourth and Main, Bradley Beach.

A small bit of revenge, but satisfying.

UPDATE

Guess that landlord got my message. He cleaned up and repaired the front gutters. Wow, the fear of public ridicule worked! However, the pigsty he created in the back alley still exists. When I had lived there, that landlord actually sent me a letter regarding my old rocking chair on the back porch, that is should be removed, and demanded that all furniture should be 'new.'

He's still a sad, miserable jerk.

I Need a Mommy Hug!

As I keep saying, this job is complicated, somewhat difficult to explain what odd moments fill up my day. It is expected that I should:

Collect rent;

Show apartments and prescreen applicants;

Clean-outs (they’re fun, beware people, I learn soooo much about you when you leave. Ha!);

Paint (even more fun);

Deal with some ornery and cranky contractors (and clean up after said cranky contractors);

Run a wet vac at 1:30 a.m. because a pipe in the foundation broke and spouted like a geyser (and it was damn cold);

Landscape (okay, that was fun, the flowers and veggies in the gardens just made me happy all spring and summer);

Solve personal problems (see my blog “Tenants: I am NOT your mommy.”);

And always exemplify customer service with a smile. (dratz!);

and the list can go on, Oh, which is why I write this blog!;

However, there are some wonderful moments . . .

We have a sweet young woman living here. She works so hard, patching together 2-3 jobs, and always cheery. But during the Fourth of July weekend, she came in to tell us that she would be late with her rent. While riding her bike to work, some #$@% jerk, shot out of an alleyway, plowed into her, wrecked her bike, and then demanded that since she was “just fine.” There was no need to call the police.

This DURING the 4th of July weekend. She is a waitress. The money weekend that would pay her bills for the summer!

She would be out of work for a week.

Plus Her bike was trashed.

And she flew thru the air.

Was the driver on his damn cell phone and couldn’t see her?

Cops and EMTs were called. A trip to the ER and she earned a week off from work. Poor thing was in tears.

Then she looked at me and said, “I need a mommy hug.”

Wow!

She got a big mommy hug.

Actually, a few mommy hugs over the next few days.

My little boy has become a grown man who plays with Apache helicopters, I miss giving ‘boo-boo’ type hugs.

Home Depot Missed Me! Awwwwhh!

It has been awhile since I have had to venture out to that great contractor’s playhouse on the highway. But I was given a list and sent out, all on my own. Grabbed a Dunkin and hit the road.

I parked my little hatchback out in the reserved contractors’ lot (PROs department only) and walked through the door, and WOW, I felt like Norm from that TV show “Cheers.” The entire PROs crew were behind the desk, they all turned around as I came in and all called my name, and demanded “Where have you been?” and just “Where is my brother-in-law?”

Awwwhh, they missed me. (Or is it my boss’ credit card? Maybe.)

Sadly, I do know my way around that cavernous store, so with list in hand, I over-filled a cart with: a new vacuum, a replacement window, medicine cabinets, cans of paint plus rollers and brushes. I parked my cart at the PROs checkout to get some spackle.

I spotted two workers and asked where it was.

They offered to get me a cart.

Said no problem, only need a ¼ bucket.

They showed me how heavy it was. (Really, I just lifted a replacement window from off the shelf into a shopping cart. I ate my Wheaties.)

Those buckets are small, but dense and weigh about the same as 2 gallons of milk. Heavy but do-able. They both laughed as I grabbed the can and walked away.

Now to checkout:

My good buddy, Marge was there as I asked for help loading the cart into my car. (Yeah, I can pull the stuff off the shelf, but loading my car up can be tricky as some items are awkward.)

She poked the new guy next to her and laughed, “WAIT until you see her truck! It’s a HATCHBACK. She gets everything in there: doors, lumber, trim, plumbing.”

She is bragging, because the first time she came to help me load up, she doubted that I can handle all the doors and windows, but she is a believer now!

And yes, my baby rides a little low on the way home, but that's part of the adventure.

So the new guy comes out, watched me flip down seats, yank out bungee cords, point where it all goes . . . and sure enough, it fits.

I have a new believer.

I love my Hyundai hatchback. It doubles as a F150, but after these last two loads, maybe it should be upgraded to a Dodge Ram.

P.S. Thank you Marge, and your crew, your help has been immeasurable in tracking down parts and speeding us thru checkout!

And the Ducks SPOKE to this one!

We now call him Daffy Duck. He is an aging Peter Pan type, plus long-winded and intrusive. He gives us Irishmen a bad name.

So his adventure began with the wild ducks at the lake. Although it is clearly posted “DO NOT FEED THE WILDLIFE,” he fed and befriended them. He claimed the duck family followed him all the way home (four blocks), and then brought one of the ducklings upstairs to show us, and encouraged all to pet it. Five times he tediously attempted to share his vast knowledge, complete with a long-winded explanation of the breed, their natural habitat, and how they were blown off-course from the Hudson Bay . . . and by the way, do you KNOW where Hudson Bay is?.

I gave him the “talk to the hand” sign.

I was not amused. I have known several, licensed wild animal rescue people, so I really do know the problems humans cause whenever they interfere. I strongly and repeatedly admonished him to leave the ducks alone, but since he researched it all, he knows better.

We had strong words, I actually had to call the business manager and alert her that she might get a call about my choice of strong words. (I did not actually apologize for the words, just informed my boss, she understood.)

Then the Ducks SPOKE to him!

The duck parents walked their baby up to him and asked him to please take their duckling, raise it and protect it from the squirrels.

Can’t make this up.

But Wait: When the heck did squirrels become carnivorous and eat ducks?

He took in this poor, now orphaned duckling, showed it to every neighbor, walked it around the asphalt parking lot–during the heat wave–and on the beach–same heat wave: Hot sand, webbed feet, do ya see the problem? While on the beach, he treated the duckling to firecrackers whizzing over his head.

Good daddy.

Every day he took his baby for walks to the boardwalk or sat outside and let everyone pet him.

Next the police came–with three (3) cop cars

I was outside when I overhead the officers laugh, “He is just sitting on the sofa with the duck in his lap!”

Wildlife Animal Rescue Officer showed up.

This day just got better and better.

Daffy Duck explained to the police that the duck parents spoke to him.

He explained that he was researched what they eat in the wild: Corn, tomatoes and hard-boiled eggs.

The officers replied: “So you think that the ducks have a barbecue grill under a tree?” (to cook the hard-boiled eggs, of course.)

Ducks eat fish or lake vegetation, since when does corn and tomatoes grow in a lake?

But I digress.

The police ran his name and outstanding warrants popped up; Daffy Duck was walked out with shiny new bracelets. Whoa!

Now the health hazard part:

When our regularly scheduled pest control dude came, we went into Daffy’s apartment to survey the damages. Remember, the duck has been living indoors, and duck feces are hazardous to human lungs.

Yes, photos were taken, bird crap on windowsills, furniture, rugs, floor AND in his bed!

What are the odds that he will safely and thoroughly clean all that crap?

The Other Tenants’ Opinions

Oddly, few were sympathetic and loudly defended Daffy: “It’s just a duck! Don’t the police have better things to do with their time?” (Really, what about the outstanding warrants and animals talking? Let’s discuss an OSHA-level cleaning.)

Tenants demanded: “Who made that phone call?” Despite the fact that Daffy walked that duck to the boardwalk, around town and shared his wild tales of ducks talking to him, I was repeatedly and angrily blamed. And I am truly sorry that I did not call the moment he brought that duckling home!

Woman tenant: “I don’t want that man near my child if he’s hallucinating.” (Guess which tenant went running to visit Daffy as soon as he got home.)

Some asked for a ride to see him in jail. Not on my to-do list, ever.

Daffy wrote letters to some, insisted that they go and clean his apartment. (Since I am a strong believer in him suffering his own consequences, said friends were refused entry.)

Daffy came home from jail, ducked all eye contact with me (pun intended). I saw his posse sneaking in and out his door. The alliances have not changed. Well, “birds of a feather do flock together.” (bad pun)

The Duckling’s bleak future:

According to the wildlife ranger, if the duck could not be rehabilitated, it would be destroyed. The duck lost his natural family, will never learn to fend for itself, find a mate, migrate and may die. Nice Going Daffy!

Regarding customer service, whoever said, “That the customer is always right,” HAS NOT really dealt with people in the trenches!

Another Rude Prospective Tenant or How to Guarantee me writing about you!

There was a nasty eviction this summer: left behind furniture, cabinets and closets full of grungy clothes and greasy kitchen gear. Miserable with a capital S.O.B.

It was tough trying to clean, sort and dispose of it all, and then try to show that apartment. Most prospective tenants were sympathetic, one opportunistic.

A certain Blonde came by with her Social Worker, rather aggressive, telling me that the paperwork was 'all signed and ready to go.' Never told me ‘what’ paperwork: Section 8? FEMA? Special Needs? How was it subsidized?

Social Worker, pushy: “The paperwork is ready, my client (the Blonde) could move in tomorrow.”

Me: “Sorry, there is a process and there have been quite a few people interested in this apartment.”

Social Worker: “But this place is perfect, we’ll take it.”

Me, again: “There are a number of applicants and I do not make the final decision.”

Social Worker, now calculating: “What are you doing with all this furniture?”

Me: “I still have to sort it and see what is worth donating.”

Social Worker: “Well, what if the tenant wants it?!”

Me, thinking: “Whoa! Not only do I get to clean this apartment, I get to clean the furniture for you, free. Yaaay! What a deal for you!”

Me, clearly stating: “No, it will be donated.” And a few schools received some great art gear for their students.

A Month Later at 8:00 PM

The Blonde knocks on my door.

It is 8 PM. I am finishing a late dinner.

She has a little dog, a breed known to be yappy (my cousin had one), she is rambling on and on and on how, “Just how much she loves this place.”

It is 8 PM! Aaargh!

Me: “I’m sorry, the owner chose another applicant, and we do not have any available units.”

Blonde: she continued yapping about how she loves this place and has all this paperwork ready.

Me: “Please feel free to call the main office and check to see if any units are available. Good night.” And I went back inside.

Another Month Later at 8:35 PM

The Blonde knocks on my door.

I am in my jammies. Yeah, it has been a very long few weeks with no days off and I was tired! (Yes, I know that last sentence was grammatically incorrect, I am still tired! Sigh.)

The Blonde blabs about the moth on my door, that the dog is not hers, that she just loves, loves, loves this place.

I think she may be inebriated or under the influence of several meds. I made sure I got her name.

Then the Blonde asks: “So what happened to the furniture?”

First, I don’t answer to her, I answer to the owners.

Second, I clearly tell her, that although we are live-in managers, it is 8:35 at night. We don’t show apartments without an appointment this late at night.

Third, I clearly tell her that tenants respect our privacy, and unless there is an emergency, no one knocks on our door.

Blonde, continues to blather: love, love, love this place.

I turned, closed the door while she was still yapping.

I called the business manager the next morning; put a red flag on that name.

Blondes aren't really supposed to be that dumb.

What an Eviction Looks Like

After the Business Manager loses a day driving to the courthouse in another county to fill out court papers, then wastes another day driving back to court to meet with the judge, the Sheriff’s Department will post this on the door. The second note regarding the sale is optional: but this tenant left behind ALL his furniture and a whole lot of crap.

This is the pile of stuff I had to drag out of EVERY closet and sort for trash and what could be sold or donated. A Delonghi Espresso machine was part of the mess. Not kidding.

He was a heavy smoker who NEVER cracked a window to ventilate, and obviously never cleaned. The apartment was shut for over two months and it stank like cheap cigars. Below are window blinds coated with dirt and nicotine.

This is the not-so-amusing sign some workmen left behind in the bathroom.

May I get PLEASE get some sympathy?

And this one Skipped Out in the Middle of the Night!

Months ago, I was sent upstairs for a ‘cold body’ check, as we had not seen this tenant in some time. In other words, I had to go into the apartment, call his name and check to see if he was in there: dead or alive. Not funny as I pulled a massive down comforter that was bundled on his sofa and I hoped that he was NOT under it. I was suspicious, lots of furniture, kitchen stuff, boxes half packed and the medicine cabinet was cleaned out. A few weeks went by, and we heard rumors of California and that there had been some ‘secret’ sales going on; again I went back into check.

Whoa! The Stench!

The bastard had shut off the electric, returned the cable box and had his mail held. The food in the fridge had fermented. Neighbors came out of their apartments horrified at the smell. I had to clean out rotten food and yet another stinkee fridge. Yeah, I know, the glamorous part of my job.

Jekyll and Hyde: This tenant was a professional artist, had mood swings, but was often normal. What possesses a person to skip out in the dead of night and leave all that furniture, flat screen TV, quite a bit of art equipment AND over a hundred matted prints?!

Greedy Tenants

Next I was inundated with several tenants laying claim to stuff left behind. Really, the young guy who does not work, does not even offer to help out, expected to be given the flat screen TV? Others asked for the new furniture, still others demanded to shop through the clothing. I suggested they shop at the local Salvation Army, because I have considered donating all this stuff to them.

Overwhelming Stuff

It took me hours of sweat just to empty out his closets and pile the stuff around the living room. In EVERY closet I found a coffee maker: Including an espresso machine! Open boxes of food, greasy pots and pans in the cabinets, and dead flies everywhere.

Eviction

Evicting a tenant, even one who clearly had abandoned his property, can take many weeks, during which time, legally, I could not even go into the apartment to clean the stove. The coup de grâce to this debacle, the sheriff’s department lost the eviction paperwork, so we were delayed another month.

$$ Problems

The owner has lost several thousand dollars in rent, plus legal fees. Several good prospective tenants were lost: and one was a detective–and whenever an officer moves in, all neighborhood crime diminishes. Drat.

I had an overwhelming amount of stuff to sort, pack, sell or donate.

The Computer, the Final Insult

So he left his PC. It was not enough that he disconnected every wire, but he tied them in knots around the furniture legs. Over 30 minutes unraveling and reconnecting that mess. When I finally booted the computer up, I found it completely wiped clean, except for two shortcuts on the desktop: one was whiny letter to the business manager, from several months ago; the other was a shortcut for “Facebook Hacking.” What a child.

However, he did recently download some vile porn, I suspect just for spite. I didn’t open them, the titles alone were revolting.

That deed says more about his character than it does about mine.

So I Screamed Like a Girl!Why Dead Mice Suck.

I overslept.

I heard the diesel engine of the contractor’s truck pull into the lot.

I jumped out of bed and ran BAREFOOT to open the front door.

I ran BAREFOOT back through the apartment and grabbed the keys off the kitchen table.

I put my glasses on.

I glanced back at the front door.

I saw THIS on the rug.

Yeah, it was lying on the same path I took TO the door and FROM the door: barefoot. (Now to be truthful, this isn’t the actual mouse, I used this pix from ludicdespair.blogspot.com. A dead mouse is the same regardless where it died and who took the pix!)

I screamed like a girl!

The contractor came in.

I screamed at him.

Confusion ensued.

The contractor thought I was yelling at him.

I simply did not have sufficient, coherent words to explain why I was screaming.

Finally, the contractor understood me. He said, “I thought it was a TOY mouse!”

I begged him to get rid of it.

He obliged. He laughed.

I thanked him.

The cat is in the doghouse. Like she cares.

Prospective Tenants: Sneaky Summer Rental Scams

We are a year-round only rental community–One Year Leases ONLY. However, we do receive our share of inquiries, some genuinely innocent, and a few downright sneaky.

Summer Rental Sneak #1

A woman came to the door, without an appointment, inquiring about a rental. Since I was in the middle of cooking (yes, I love my meals, burned or cold), I stepped outside to speak with her.

She is looking for rental, first she wants to do month-to-month, And THEN she will sign a yearly lease. She gave many excuses about her health (but would not share the details), relocating from Manhattan, and then wanting to check out the neighborhood before committing to a lease.

Bull! It was early Spring; she is looking for a cheap summer rental. We are 100 yards from the boardwalk and surf. We are not spending the money sprucing up an apartment, and paying the township fees only for you to decide in September that you want to move on. Did she think that she is the first person to pitch that con?

Happily, we are 100% occupied; the next vacancy will be late summer.

Moved her on.

Summer Rental Sneak #2

I was outside working on the front garden when a man stopped and inquired about summer rentals in the area. I obliged and suggested a few.

At some point, his wife walked up, and instead of joining the conversation, she stood behind him and avoided eye contact with me. That’s curiously rude.

Rude Couple: “Asked details about these units, price and availability.”

Me: “Sorry, no units currently available. We are not summer rentals, but the price would be $$$ for a year lease.”

Rude Couple: “Oh, for that price, it would be worth it for me to rent.”

Me thinking: Whoa! I am trying to build a good community with nice neighbors, the last thing I want is a vacant unit 9 months out of the year and I DO NOT want you, your family and friends descending upon us for 3 months of vacation partying, and grabbing every parking spot. Plus protecting a vacant unit. If you are RUDE to me now, how rude will you and your extended family be to other tenants when you come to visit?!

Me stated: “I’m sorry, we are fully occupied, and the units lack amenities such as dishwashers and stainless steel appliances.” The units are very nice, but I am not encouraging a 'summer rental option' to this rude couple!

Rude Couple walked away.

Whew!

Fresh Feathers Among the Chicken Cutlets!

While perusing the assorted chicken cutlets at the local BJ's (I first wrote Wegmans, sorry), I spotted this small bird! It perched atop its not-so-lucky relatives, then flitted around the meat case before taking off for the rafters.

If you look carefully, the bird is reflected in the mirrors over the meat case.

Aren't cell phone cameras wonderful, that we can capture such great moments?

Yes, Come See Our Fireworks, but Don’t Even Think of Parking in My Lot!

We are a ½ block from the beach, and a few opportunistic people have snuck into our lot—sometimes for the entire weekend! Our parking lot is tight; only one car per apartment is allowed: Rare exceptions. We have a few that think the rules don’t apply to them, and have boldly told me such. Idiots, they have made enemies among their own neighbors, and trust me, ‘blunt’ words have been exchanged.

Most days, we keep a casual eye out the window, and generally a few words will encourage people to leave, however, come big events such as the town’s fireworks, and Whoa! Everyone is entitled to use our lot.

Fourth of July

Visitors comes from miles away to see the fireworks on the beach. Great! Bring the family, but if you think that you can come to town, 20 minutes before they are scheduled to begin, and find a parking space, lots of luck! If you think you can sneak into any parking lot, forgedaboudit! We are on to your sneaky tactics and lies!

Days before the event, a few tenants were smart and began negotiating for spaces, offering to park their cars on the street so that their friends could park in the lot. A few were even smarter and told their friends to park at the train station and shuttled them to the beach. Negotiations are welcomed and honored.

About two hours before show time, I grabbed a bottle of cold water, pack of smokes and my trusty cell phone, with camera, and headed down to the parking lot. A few tenants laughed until they saw what I was up against, and they even helped me wave off those who tried to sneak into the lot.

---

By 9 a.m. the parking in town was so bad, 5 blocks up from the boardwalk were fully loaded with cars. I was keeping an eye out on the street, so that I could get my car out of the lot and onto the curb. Finally, I spotted a car, right next to my driveway leaving. I grabbed my keys, flew down a flight of stairs, around the yard, into my car, gunned it into reverse, and managed to cut off a truck who was aiming for the same spot. I only know I cut off a truck because I was commended by the neighbor who saw me fly. He was proud of me! One more spot in the lot for us!

The Excuses

Rude Dude #1, pulled straight into the lot, when I yelled he stated: “I’m here to pick up my friend.”

Me: “Really, because he left and hour ago with my brother-in-law for the boardwalk. They made those plans DAYS ago.” My cell phone is now in hand: “I’ll call him for you, but you still must park elsewhere.”

Rude Dude #1, very nasty: “You gotta wait for my ‘crippled’ wife to get out of the car.”

Me, thinking, now you are playing the handicapped card, my brother-in-law is handicapped, and those two women standing with me; one is handicapped, the other has a handicapped husband. Don’t play that card with us! He did not have a handicapped placard in his windshield or a special license plate: We do!

Wife jumps out, Rude Dude leaves rubber backing out.

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The tenants who were just chatting with me, are now part of the ‘defend the parking lot’ team.

Rude Dude #2, yanks his truck into the lot heading for an empty space, we yelled, and he shouted back: “Hey, I’m just turning around.”

Bull! You didn’t just pull onto the driveway, stop, and crank your head around to back up. You were clearly gunning for the empty spaces in the back.

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Tenants are now pointing out all the cars slowly driving by, heads hanging out the car window, eyeballing the empty spots, then abruptly driving away when they spot me shaking my head. My buddies can’t believe the boldness of all the idiots who claim to be just ‘turning around’ as they whip their cars into the lot. And trust me, there were a good dozen who tried that maneuver!

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Rude Dude #3: “My buddy lives here, he said I could park here.”

Me: “Really, that buddy moved out months ago.”

Stare down, he had no answer, he left.

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One tenant asked if his daughter could park here, and we gave permission. However, the daughter AND the boyfriend pulled up in separate cars! We gave permission for ONE car, and this woman has been here often enough to know the shortage of spaces, she is not blonde, but plays the part well. They even tried telling me that they would only be 15 minutes!? I don’t know how they tell time on their planet, but 6 kids take way more than 15 minutes to drop off and pick up, PLUS watch fireworks. Aaargh! They left.

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Finally, a man managed to squeeze his motorcycle between a car and the driveway apron, and his teenage daughter was on the back, not really safe for the bike. So I looked at my friends, and then offered him a narrow spot between the dumpster and sidewalk. He thanked me and moved his bike. Hey, I owned a motorcycle back in the day, then it turned out that his son lives here, and we had a really nice chat. I let him know that from now on, that he could use this spot whenever he comes to visit. Maybe his son will start being nicer to me. Yeah, dream on.

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The only fireworks I saw this year were over the rooftop, viewed from the parking lot. It was hot, I felt grungy and my feet hurt from standing for two hours, but I was repeatedly thanked by a few tenants who were so grateful for my efforts.

It’s an odd job being an on-site manager, this customer service is a little hard to explain on a resume.

Difficult People

Face it, they will always exist.

Several years ago, I worked in a commercial print shop, and one week went from bad to worse: overlapping deadlines, problems with presses, lack of darkroom supplies and an absentee boss. And worse, a job bounced, which means, the customer rejected it: Profit gone. There were some angry words as the blame was passed around, But this time, it was the boss who screwed up, he knew it, and he was loudly sharing his misery with all his staff. Yeah.

But on the way home, I found a speaker on the radio who was so funny, so dead on true, I nearly drove off the road! She was talking about problem people, and the fact that “There will always be problem people in your life: be it your father, a brother, neighbor, co-worker, anyone.”

“But remember, YOU may be the problem person in someone else’s life!”

I laughed so hard, I had to pull over. Because that day, my boss was not happy with me, I would not back down, and for sure, he absolutely considered me his problem person of the week!

Face it people, it is so true! We complain about the idiots in our lives, whose names will always change, but they are there lurking, ready to strike. But confess, we have our moments when we give others a hard time, deserved or not. Hopefully, they are rare and apologies are gracefully given.

And if you think none of this applies to you, ever, then perhaps you are not paying enough attention to the people behind you. Ya know, kinda like that reckless driver racing up the highway, cutting in and out of lanes, not caring about the swerving, brake slamming and near crashes in their rear view mirror.

Sometimes we all need a reality/attitude check, of course, the author is the exception. Sigh, I wish, I have a few tenants that keep me humble.

Homemade Applesauce

Yes, I love to cook, and foods made from fresh fruit and veggies from the local farm markets, or even a good supermarket, beats anything store-bought hands-down.

Why waste your money on food laden with chemicals and preservatives when you can do so much better at home? Plus, if you have little ones in your home, they can help peel, sort, grate and stir, and then when they are older they will enjoy cooking their own meals.

Trust me, it works. My son was an ace at fried chicken, rice and veggies: and he learned to cook all the foods to be table-ready at the same time. I confess, I did push many meals on him until he caught wise and protested. However, he is self-sufficient in the kitchen and has surpassed me cooking on the BBQ!

Homemade Applesauce

A crockpot works best, as this sauce needs to simmer for several hours as the apples cook down and soften up. When they are fully cooked and mushy, a hand-held potato masher or an immersion blender works equally well: Ignore the lumps, a little texture is good. (Don’t worry about substituting Macintoshes or any other apple, or even throwing in some pears, these are my preferences and are readily available in my local supermarkets.)

Ingredients:

• 6-8 Gallo Apples
• 6-8 Green Apples
• 1 cup Water (experiment with Cranberry Juice, Apple Cider or even a little Orange Concentrate)
• 2-3 tablespoon Brown Sugar
• 1 tablespoon Cinnamon (or more to taste)
• ½ teaspoon salt

Slice and dice all apples into chunks (about half the size of your thumb)

If you leave the skin on the apples, be sure to slice any chunks with skin into slivers. The skin of the apple does not always break down completely and it could be choking hazard.

Place all ingredients into crockpot and stir well.

Let cook on medium 3-4 hours, stirring often.

When apples are mushy, turn off the crockpot and let cool before mixing, to avoid any splatters that could burn.

When cooled, use a potato masher, or immersion blender and mix well, then refrigerate in an air-tight container.

This will keep for 2 weeks in your refrigerator and makes a wonderful side dish for all meals, particularly roast pork or pork chops.

Enjoy!

Including the Kitchen Sink!

This day was so physically exhausting I was a @$@#$ zombie by dinnertime.

My day started very early: I drove a tenant to the hospital for some tests, stopped at the store, did five loads of wash, then drove back to hospital to picked up the tenant at the hospital. Who by the way, wasn't even ready when I was called to come get him, I had to physically hunt for him around multiple lobbies (but that is another blog).

Later we had a repair scheduled up on the third floor: Since this was a new contractor, I needed to stay close by to evaluate his work, plus help bring him supplies.

This was not a good day to wear clogs!

I learned that wearing clogs was not the smartest choice of footwear while trekking up and down three flights of stairs between the storeroom in the back and the apartment up top:

• Down to the first floor workrooms to hunt for trim, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down to hunt for caulk, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for vacuum, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for paint, and then hike back up;
• Trek back down again for QuikCret, and then hike back up;

That night my calves ‘felt the burn’ and I decided I don’t ever need to join a gym.

Somewhere in between, I convinced Mr.-I'm-In-Charge to finally remove all the @#$#@$ storm doors that he had jammed under the stairwells and every #$#$ corner of the laundry room. (Tenants do not need to be looking at junk stored under exposed stairwells.) For some reason when I stated that I would walk across the street and ask the neighbor to come pick up the scrap metal, he went into action. THAT was a huge accomplishment.

Of course, while trekking up and down, other tenants stopped me to chat, and asked for a cigarette. Do I look like a vending machine?!

And yes, these forays into madness literally did include ditching the kitchen sink that had been rotting in the furnace room.

When this day was done, my brother-in-law took one look at my exhaustion and suggested Taco Bell for dinner. As much as the offer was appreciated, my first thought was, “Crap, I gotta drive?”

However, you gotta admit, driving in an air-conditioned car to pick up Taco Bell is far better than foraging in the fridge for a quick meal—then cooking it!

‘Twas a looong day, new contractor did an outstanding job, outside is looking spiffy with the junk removed, and of course, the pretty flowerpots are blooming all around the parking lot: so much was accomplished.

I just need to get in touch with my feminine self and go get a manicure, and perhaps a glass of wine!

Reasons to Clean Those Gutters

These pictures really don’t need a whole lot of introduction: If you don’t clean your gutters, they become clogged with crap and create mind-boggling planters dangling from your roof. This will truly add great value to your home. Ha!

Serendipity, I just happened to pull into a parking lot, looked up at the jungle, and clicked away with the camera/cell phone.

Homeowners and building managers are now cringing looking at those trees growing in the gutters. Sigh.

Hey, does anyone remember cameras with film? Instamatics? Polaroids? Ya’ know, BEFORE digital stuff and cell phone apps?

For that matter does anyone remember film and having to send away rolls of film for developing, then waiting 10 days to see if ANYTHING worthwhile was in that packet of pictures? If so, you were born BEFORE 1990.

A Temp Job Horror Story

Several years ago, a girlfriend had met this wonderful man on line and began dating him: He was a lawyer with a home office. Since I freelance, she called me and asked if I was interested in picking up some typing and transcription work, which of course, I was.

The Warning Signs:

First Flag: She told me that he had trouble keeping a legal secretary. Odd, Jersey has had a high unemployment rate for several years now.

Second Flag: When I spoke with the lawyer, he did not want to see my resume, nor care to discuss my skills. Really, any warm body will do?

Third Flag: The lawyer would not discuss money over the phone.

Whoa! Legal transcription is NOT minimum wage, but I planned on clearly discussing such basics when we met at his office.

Fourth Flag: He was emphatic, demanding and anal that I should be there promptly at 9 a.m., ready to work.

Fifth Flag: I Googled him, this lawyer was fined several years ago, but reinstated.

The Horror:

I found his house/office. A one-story bungalow, faded green siding, dirt front yard/parking lot, rimmed by overgrown trees, shrubs, weeds, and many of them brown—dead.

There were two unmarked and filthy doors, flanked by windows with crap stacked behind the glass.

Door #1: I knocked. No answer. I went in.

I was not prepared for what I saw. I walked into what had been a custom kitchen; I could see the skylights and some oak cabinets. However, the room was swarming with flies and plastic and paper grocery bags were on every flat surface and strewn across the floor. I could not even discern where the sink or stove were located.

I backed out.

Door #2: Was a louvered glass door, the glass was caked in black filth, but an “Office” sign was dimly visible. Again I knocked. Again no answer, so I went in.

Outside of a cop show, I have NEVER seen nor expected this! It was a, long, dark narrow room, rimmed with ugly metal desks, each desk, each bookcase, each gap between them was stacked with brown, legal binders. Folders were jammed chest high, and some had toppled over to the desks. The rug was worn through to the wood below.

It stank of mildew, a vile dank and musty smell.

I kept calling the man’s name as I walked around.

Finally, I was back in the kitchen, and to the right I saw a bedroom with a man’s naked legs among the twisted blankets. That room had clothes flung everywhere: dressers, chairs, floors and that bedding looked grey and dingy.

I stepped back and called his name, again.

This time he answered and slurring his words, demanded to know who I was.

Told him that I was Rose’s friend.

He asked if Michelle was here.

I replied, “No one is here.”

Here’s where it gets weirder: .

He began barking work instructions to me.

Oh hell no!.

I stated: “I cannot work for you.”

The Lawyer: “Why not?”

Me: “The flies, the filth, the stench.”

I bolted out the door, jumped into my car and sped around the corner.

I called Rose to warn her. She didn’t believe me.

I called another friend, I was actually crying and she calmed me down.

A Poor Conclusion:

My girlfriend continued to date him and make excuses for him: That I came too early and that he took care of the flies. This is why Battered Women’s shelters will never close.

I spoke casually with a church friend who is in the legal field, and the odds of getting such a lawyer shut down were slim.

I would sleep in my car before taking such a job.

Friendship with this woman faded away, we’ve not even reconnected on social websites.

The Great Dog Poop Drama

Alice’s Restaurant

This drama can only be compared to the ballad, “Alice’s Restaurant” by the great balladeer Arlo Guthrie. Those of us who remember the 60’s will still laugh at mere memory of the great lyrics, and a short movie was made from this song. Either way, follow the link to YouTube; there are many versions besides this one to pick from. Enjoy.

But onto The Great Dog Poop Drama!

The players are: the Drunk; the Meddlesome Woman (hereinafter called MW); and Dog Owner #1 and Dog Owner #2.

The Drunk came through my door, very angry: “I just got a call from MW that there is dog poop outside my door and in the laundry room!” Then demanded repeatedly that I need to come down and look at it!

Really? Do you think I have some forensic ability to examine the dog poop and decide which dog did the deed?

Then a long-winded unnecessary side tale about his girlfriend, wearing flip-flops stepped in it, but she left those shoes outside his door.

Well, at least she demonstrated common sense.

Me, at the stove cooking dinner: “Why is MW calling you with this problem? We are both home. I am sorry, but we have not had this problem for several years. Take this bag (I handed him a poop bag) and just pick it up.”

Readers, the anger, shock, and disdain on his face was worth the price of admission!

He stormed out.

Minutes later Dog Owner #1 came in: She also received a called from MW.

The Drunk stormed back into my apartment.

Me: “Don’t you barge into my home without so much as knocking.”

The Drunk actually stepped back and sarcastically knocked on my door.

Words were exchanged between Dog Owner #1 and the Drunk.

Me, to the Drunk: “Do not tell me that you called this woman!”

Angry words to me: The Drunk began arguing about the parking (he doesn’t OWN a car) and then he dropped the N* word! (Yeah readers, THAT reprehensible one!)

My brother-in-law ordered him out.

Dog Owner #2 called and offered to pick up the poop. I told her not to, and asked who called her about this drama?

You guessed it, MW.

Conclusion

So one tenant, with way too much time on her hands, called some tenants and wound them up. The Drunk is still ignoring me (darn), the MW actually smiled and tried to chat with me (hell no), Dog Owner #1 and #2 went on their way (as it should have been).

The alliances among the discontented ones will always change, and two of them are the Garden Grinches.

Be grateful. Be kind. Never know what changes tomorrow will bring. What a sad life the Grinches of this world have, they cannot buy themselves a decent heart or enjoy the gifts that life brings us everyday day!

And my dinner was delicious without further drama.

C’est le vie.

Opportunist Vagrants

They are the bane of every owner and manager. No one wants to discover a busted window lock or collusion by a not-so-trusted worker that allowed a vagrant to camp out in an empty unit, a house or condo–or even your unlocked car.

Yes, even car dealerships share this pain: there are strange stories of discovering vagrants camping out in their new vehicles. Face it . . . 100 cars on the lot and security cameras cannot watch every vehicle. Your brand new SUV may have been someone’s motel room. Real joy!

Sadly, I have found nasty bathtub rings and toothpaste spit smeared on mirrors of a unit that had been cleaned and renovated. I have a firm rule that for every empty unit, the kitchen and hall lights will be left on and all the shades will be open. No #$@% exceptions!

Years ago, we had a terrible tenant, lots of drama, lots of late night traffic. We all knew what was going on. Finally, the police came and took her away. Big yippee!

However, that started another problem; her friends were boldly breaking in late at night and camping out.

So I Called the Police

Three officers, one that stood as tall as Goliath, and a Belgium Sheppard. Wow. I gave them the keys and they went in. Sadly, it was false alarm. They weren’t angry, they understood, they knew what I was up against.

However, the brand new tenants, who had just moved in that day, were very rudely awakened by the sight of several officers and a dog skulking past their back windows, complete with flashing lights, plus other tenants who came out to see the commotion.

They laugh now, but I couldn’t apologize enough then.

As I keep saying, this is a complicated job.

Oops! Shipwreck Island Mini Golf is in Bradley Beach Not Asbury Park!

So today I get to have a little fun and share the pain that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who has EVER worked in publishing, design or submitted a big report, who swore that they had checked, proofed, read and re-read, and finally so really sure that it was perfect, hit ‘submit’ and then, and only then, does someone point out “The Glitch!”

Shipwreck Island Mini Golf

The mapping software got it wrong! Not just for the Golf site, but when I used Blogger's Location feature, it made the very same error! Hmmm.

It IS in Bradley Beach, however their map pointed a little north, in Asbury Park.

But I will say that the owner was so very gracious when I emailed him of his glitch, and did thank me, however I did warn him that he would make this blog.

Shipwreck Island Mini Golf course is NOT your old-fashioned, static and boring course.

Fountains gush out of shipwrecks, into a river which winds through several pools with more fountains, complete with nets on long poles to pluck your golf balls from these great water hazards.

Two fishing boats, aptly name Sandy and Irene: two killer hurricanes that crashed our shoreline.

A lighthouse, which looks so cool, lit up when the fog rolls in.

The next block over is a great playground: slides, swings and even a pirate’s wheel facing the ocean. Grab an ice cream, stroll the boards, play some golf, breathe the salt air. Spend the day at the beach, after all, how can you not love the ocean, it is so mesmerizing!