Moving in and getting a Massage
on Thursday was the big move-in day. I had to find an apartment in a new city and get myself all moved in within two weeks time before I start my new job (not of course that I'm complaining, I'm very thankful to have found such a great job! the whole thing about moving is that it is quite stressful, take for example what I imagined would be a simple task like getting power to my apartment.
I thought I had it all set up after a nice phone call with a lady at the power company on Monday. on Wednesday I get a call from the power company asking me when I wanted the power switched on.
"um, I thought you guys did that yesterday?"
"nosirwedidnotweneedtwoformsofidtodoso" was the monotone response that sounded like a robot.
"well the lady I spoke to on Monday didn't mention anything about needing two forms of id to switch on the power."
then I got to the apartment complex and was met by a very nice lady, the apartment manager. T was a lady in her mid-forties with a rather large bosom that was bespeckled with freckles that seemed to indicate that she spent a lot of time outside. she was wearing a very nice outfit which seemed to be made out of cashmere. what I'm trying to get at is that T seemed to have her shit together.
"now," T began, resting her ample bosom on her desk, leaning slightly forward and pointing to the rules and regulations in front of us on her desk, "these are the rules and regulations." she stopped, glanced up at me, I had to catch myself to meet her gaze in a timely manner. her questioning look seemed hoping to find in my eyes that I knew what rules and regulations were.
"as you can see...there are quite a lot but we feel that this helps us maintain a please and," with a pause she looked up to the lord, "orderly residential experience."
"now two things I want to highlight for you," and with this she took out a highlighter conveying that she meant this quite literally, "first and MOST IMPORTANTLY," with this she again caught my wandering gaze, "DO NOT, and I repeat DO NOT, disable your smoke alarm. it is ILLEGAL," with this she stared into the very depths of my soul to impress me with the sheer illegality of it all, "I don't care if it is 3 am on Christmas morning," (to me this seemed a rather oddly specific time of the year), "if it goes off you call THIS number," with this she amply highlighted the emergency maintenance number, "and someone will be out to help you within an hour."
"NEXT, please, please, DO NOT, be LATE with your payment." again, she caught my gaze and made sure that I stood the importance of this statement. "we will email you if have not paid by the 1st. if you DO NOT pay by the 6th there is a substantial late fee. PLEASE pay on or before the 1st. we have the residential portal that makes this all very easy."
at this point I was starting to get a little bit offended at her condescension, I've never been late with a payment in my life and I know the importance of functioning smoke detectors in a large apartment complex. then of course I was treated to a view of my fellow residents. mind you these are the residents who were in the apartment at 11 am on a Thursday so they weren't exactly employed I would assume.
the one was revving his engine while what I assumed was her husband or boyfriend was screaming, "floor that sumbitch, floor it!" T watched this with what I would describe as calm malevolence. she stalked towards the offending couple. "excuse me, EXCUSE ME, but the is not allowed here!" to this the couple leered at her somewhat idiotically and responded, "well how else we gone git our cah to stah?"
"well," and with this T was smoothing her cashmere top which appeared to have manifested her irritation in the form of wrinkles, "if you need a mechanic I can get you the number to a very good one."
with this unfortunate detour (T's words not mine) we proceeded to the apartment. she showed me the trash chute which led to a slight hiccup with T pulling it with all the might she had with the trash chute, much to her chagrin not complying with her determined attempts to open it. as she muttered under her breath hands on hips she assured me that it was usually "very easy" to open.
after all the move-in business I was nicely gifted a massage from my brother and sister-in-law. as I was being checked in I was informed that the place had a new feature which consisted of an "attention" button strategically placed under the mattress bed. should I feel threatened, harassed, abused, "unsafe" or otherwise I merely needed to hit the "attention" button and someone from the front desk would save me from my predicament.
"is it a silent alarm" I asked
"wha-" the confused (and quite pretty) receptionist responded
"like, I mean," I began, already regretting even asking a question about this new feature, "would the masseuse know I hit the button?"
the pretty receptionist stared at me with her big beautiful doe-like eyes, "I honestly don't know, no-one has ever used it before."
trying desperately to save myself I decided to ease the tension with a joke, "well haha, uh, I mean I don't want to cause a mass panic if I hit the button and uh, you know..." and at this I trailed off with the pretty receptionist backing away from me a bit.
"do you need to use the restroom before your massage?" she responded, trying to move the conversation along and possibly wash the stupid off myself, "yes, yes please that would be great."
after a relaxing massage I came back to find the pretty receptionist engaged with a woman that did not seem to be adhering whatsoever to the tranquil nature of the place. quickly I ascertained that this beast of a woman was actually in her post-massage state!
"THAT was DEFINITELY not a 50 minute massage!" the woman harangued the pretty receptionist with.
"and SHE can't stand there and tell me that it was!" at this the woman pointed to a diminutive woman behind the receptionist who looked like she just wanted the earth to swallow her up.
"you can't look me in the eyes and tell me that you laid hands on me for 50 minutes!"
the diminutive woman looked the woman in the eyes and said, "I massaged you for 50 minutes." with a calm that was breathtaking.
"liar!" the woman rejoined, "liar, liar pants on fire!"
"ma'am," the pretty receptionist began, "if you are unhappy with the massage we can give you the first-time rate of $69.95 instead of the full-price."
at this the woman smiled smugly, "oh you'd better honey, you'd better believe that I'm letting EVERYBODY" and with this she gesticulated wildly about herself, "around here know what type of a racket you're running here!" but she wasn't done with that threat, "and YOU," and she emphasised the "YOU" like she had just found out that this poor lady had killed her dog, "YOU are not getting any tip whatsoever." and with this she STUCK OUT HER TONGUE at the masseuse.
like holy fucking shit. how miserable of a human being do you have to be to get to that point in life? not only that, but she turned around and strutted out of the place like she was Mae West.
"I almost had to use the 'attention' button, just to bring to your attention what a great masseuse N was," with this I winked at N, and the pretty receptionist, happy to not have a sociopath on her hands giggled at my lame joke.
god some people are awful.
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