This is my turn to shout AAARRRGGH into the wind!
The other day The Slickster FINALLY left.
Yep. The Electric thief. Not only did she con several months of free electric, she played the same game with rent. It is hard and expensive to evict people, however, she played sweet and helpless to the very last day, the very last LEGAL day as the Sheriff’s Department was coming to put her stuff on the curb.
Slickster: She came to my door early, stated that she was packing up, bemoaning how expensive a motel room will be.
Me, dancing on the inside, calm on the outside: “Oh that is sad.”
Slickster: “Not everything will fit in the truck, can I store my things in your Electric Room?”
Me stunned: Dang, this one has brass oeuvres. She stole thousands in rent and electric and now she wants access to the machine room where the electric meters are located and where tools and supplies are stored!
Me: “No, we’ve had problems with tenants stealing.” (Did ya get the blatant hint?!)
So I followed her downstairs and noticed two of our fans, one in the truck and one outside her door, and I asked her boyfriend to return the one in the truck: Both the fans are incredibly filthy. (Now ONE fan, not both, had been given to them to help dry out rugs from a minor water leak months earlier.)
Wow, the Slickster turned into a Wolverine!
Slickster, Screaming: “You GAVE them to me!”
Me: “Yeah, and you stole $5,000 in rent plus stole hundreds in electricity!”
Slickster: “It’s not like its YOUR MONEY!”
Whoa, really?! So that makes everything all right, that I should let you just take anything you want? That I am like you?!
Me, NOT backing down: “I am the owner’s agent. I am trusted with their property and money. I am taking back the fans.”
At this point we were both standing outside the machine room, which is filled with lots of tools, possible weapons and I was a little scared: That 5’4” woman had turned into a wolverine.
She left. Whew!
I found Mr. I-Am-In-Charge. Informed him that he needs to earn his bragging rights and make damn sure that absolutely no one goes back into that apartment and does any damage. He is a big guy, gave him a shot to do some good.
Run back upstairs, need another door lock to swap out really fast so that no one sneaks back in later that night.
Now that they are gone, I am hearing the stories of their truly suspicious behavior after midnight. When I only hear one or two things, I can’t act on it, when I am belatedly informed of soooo many stories, it is way too late to alert the police.
Last year, our biggest whiner, told me that he saw a notoriously nasty dude sneaking out of an empty apartment very early one morning. Someone actually broke into a vacant unit and camped out for the night. We are not a flop house: Respectable professionals and hard working people live here . . . including me!
Me, incredulous: “Why did you not call me or call the police?! You know that guy!”
Whiner: “Oh you know me, I don’t like to complain.” (Can I get a collective eye roll?)
We all live here. Those who complain about problems at home, on the job, wherever, and do nothing, are part of the problem.
Wake Up! Silence feeds the problem.
Quality of life = just do the right thing, every time! The world would be a better, safer place.
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