That's right folks! It's apartment inspection time!
We try to do this once a year to discourage monthly/weekly/daily complaints about non-emergency or random maintenance problems like a closet sticking or a small drip from a faucet. We group issues together and knock down the list when we are slow. To be honest...we don't really care. Let's be honest, the fact your closet doesn't open smoothly enough for you liking has no impact on my life....having a meth lab in your closet does.
We are in the middle of a losing battle: tenants smoking pot in the building. Everyone gets the same speech. We don't want to see it, smell it, or suspect it. Go for a walk. A long walk. I don't want to stand on my balcony and see you standing on the sidewalk below rocking is like you are at a Grateful Dead concert. This shit is still illegal, it stinks, and it affects your neighbours. So, in the last few months, the smell of pot has increased. Solution? Inspection under the guise of looking for maintenance problems. Go us!
The downfall of not being totally honest with our tenants about the reason for this inspection are the laundry lists left for us or verbalized TO us as we enter everyone's apt. About 70% of our building are people that we have put in. They are, for the most part, in their late 20s and early 30s, professional, clean, responsible, respect us, and are all sitting in renovated apartment. None of them have any complaints or maintenance issues and none of them were suspected of doing any illegal activities in their suites. We go in, shoot the shit, reiterate the drug policy of the building and move on. These people are a pleasure to deal with and are desirable to all building/property managers. As for the remaining 30%? Not so much.
Everyone seems to think that the Gen-X or Gen-Y, or even the Gen-Z, generations are full of whiny, needy, selfish people who blame everyone else for their problem. I am not going to totally deny that, but in our experience, these people are great renters. If we are sticking with this gen-alphabet scenario, Gen-W (currently aged 40-50...maybe 55) renters are self-entitled whiny bitches. They tend to drink a little more, don't seem to have a problem with doing laundry in their underwear, don't understand this thing called a 'computer', and their biggest thrill in life is solving the final puzzle on Wheel Of Fortune every night. They all pay below market value (an entirely different problem), have shitty furniture, and none of them appear to own a mop and bucket.
These people leave is lists of complaints! Like....lists and lists. You name it, it is on it. Shit that they fucked up themselves is on there - yes, one tenant who decided to paint their walls got paint on their ceiling...I guess that is my problem now. There were complaints that the flooring is not even (the building has settled since it was built 50 years ago)! Yes....let me get on that for you...let me re-level the building's foundation so you can continue to pay $800/month for your apartment ($350 below market value)! Along with these absurd issues, some tenants seem to think that it is our responsibility to clean their apartment. We had 3 tenants (within that 30%) tell us that their curtains are dirty...either from cat hair (their cat) and/or dust/grime (from them not cleaning). Adding to this, one tenant told me that her oven needs to be replaced because it is dirty. Umm, every heard of oven cleaner, honey? It brings me great joy to crack out, "actually, it is the responsibility of the tenant to clean and maintain a level of cleanliness of their rental unit". Why would someone ever think that I would spend my time cleaning THEIR place? It is always someone else's fault as to why they live in filth.
So, once we wade through trivial items like those above, we look for anything that may be related to smoking pot. Lighters, small clumps of ashes, ashes around windows, incense, small snips or scissors, rolling papers, pot grinders, etc. Second apartment in, JACK-POT! Sitting there in the living room next to the couch in a little ashtray and nice little fat roach. Quick smell to confirm....YUP, that's a roach. It should be noted, this tenant hates us...she has been previously blogged about. I can't even express to you how excited we are to get to talk to her about it. She walks around the building thinking the sun shines out of her ass. The previous manager (who has also been blogged about) use to treat her like a fucking queen. No clue why. She pays her rent at 11:59pm on the 1st, her apt looks like a over-stuffed junk/thrift store, and the bitch is rude. The convo was epic...you could see it in her eyes when her stomach dropped and her ass clenched. She does not wear the shade of grey she turned all that well.
So far....7 days since the inspection and we are looking good. Our bedroom no longer fills up with pot smoke every night at midnight and no more complaint about the smell from our tenants. The bitch tenant has also seemed to have a change of heart towards us and now understands that no matter how much of a cunt she is, we will always win. Obedience breeds victory.
There are a few things I have realized doing this job (and specifically conducting inspections). 1.) So many people live in filth! I'm not talking about not doing your dinner dishes from the evening before, or missing that weeks vacuuming/bathroom cleaning routine or having a full laundry basket....I'm talking about plain old disgusting filth. Splatter marks on the walls, dust as thick as a carpet under your dinner table, cat fur stuck to EVERYTHING, not sleeping on bed sheets or having pillows without cases, food on the floor, moldy McDonald's cups, moldy shower curtains, piss on the floor around the toilet, etc. 2.) Some choose the most ridiculous things to bitch about. You don't like the tile on you kitchen floor, but are okay with having a molding fish tank full of dead fish. Or, we are standing in the middle of this shit-hole flop house and you are talking to me about your curtains. Does not compute. 3.) The less rent you pay...the more likely you are to bitch. I can't explain this one. I don't get it. 4.) Bed frames no longer appear to be a popular piece of furniture. SO MANY people sleep on a mattress on the floor. Metal bed frames are, like, $50. Go buy one. This will help you avoid pests like bedbugs. 5.) Some people have no shame. Highlight: a perfectly made bed with gigantic cums stains. Hot. We don't call him Charlie Sheen for nothing.
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
So we have this woman, that's a hiiint of an alcoholic. By hint, I mean 'way'. But functional. Well, except our first week on the job when she was escorted home by police. Functionality is a sliding scale. She was never quite bad enough to be on the hitlist.
So, a year goes by and she complains about little things and is kind of annoying, but whatever. Then, we start seeing this strange dude huffing and puffing his way through the halls.
No sooner do we get an anonymous letter under the door.
Oh yeah. This guy used to live here. Oh! This guy was busted smoking crack in the laundry room. Hot.
So down we go for a little conversation. We are informed that he doesn't live here, and understand that there is a process he'd have to go through in order to do so.
Over the next months, we monitor his activity, and it does indeed look like he lives here. But please keep in mind, I'm too stupid to notice. :rolleyes:
So finally a few months ago, my partner in crime sees him having small talk with another building loser. He's fumbling for his keys and the other guy says, "oh, you live here, its cool" as dino walks by and says,
"well thats a bit of a question now, isn't it?"
So today, we are in the lobby, and out of the corner of my eye I see him at the front door...but then I don't. It hits me to go to the back door. And I see him...then I don't.
I think to myself, "Oh dude, you are shitting me!"
So I busy myself in the car for a sec, and then go inside, then go back out and I see him hobbling around the corner and then turn around again.
Once again, to myself I ask, "what the fuck is this?"
Now, I must stop for a second. I did well in school. I went to post-secondary. I had a promising career before quitting it to work for myself. I'm not going to be a member of mensa, but I can hold my own at a dinner party. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm not an idiot and can realize that someone doing this:
THREE fucking times is fucking bullshit.
And I HATE bullshit. I think I hate it more than anything else. I'd actually have more respect for someone saying they gambled their rent money on a nigerian business scheme that promises amazing results more than a bullshit lie. I would like to see the lie that's better than that, but I respect honesty.
So, we continue to the grocery store, and I'm fuming mad.
And when I'm fuming mad...I like resolution.
So we get home and I knock on the door.
me"hey, your boyfriend home?"
them"yeah, just a second"
It was way more of a second as they were questioning inside just what the fuck I was there for. So he comes out.
me"hey! what was that display downstairs earlier?"
me"oh, you know, where you were trying to avoid me? Why were you trying to avoid me?"
them"Well, I don't like you"
Good fucking answer! You are like the best at digging your self out of a bad situation.
me"And why is that?"
And stop. I stand there. In silence, waiting for his mind to produce the next glimmer of excellence.
In order for me to have dinner at some point tonight, I finally let him off that hook.
me"Let me help you out. Is it because you've been living here for the last year, and you know that we are on to you? Is it because you didn't want me to see you using a set of keys to my building that I did not provide? Could that be it? Because I'm a little curious of how you could not like me seeing as I know you don't even know me. The reason I know you don't know me is I certainly don't know you. And that is a problem, because as we have established, you've been living in my building."
You want to see a stunned, deer in headlights look in a human? Rattle that off in their face. I have a skill...I can motherfucking talk...fast. And I continue with the death kill:
me"So how do you like me now?"
So they tell me I'm wrong. He doesn't actually live here.
me"Where do you live?"
me"Cool. That narrows it down. Can i have an address?"
And here is the kicker that does it in...
them"Well, who are you going to report it to?"
This becomes very important in the after action analysis.
The conversation continues, and boils down to the following. You have options:
1. He fills out an application, goes through the same credit check/reference check as everyone else. Approval is not guaranteed. We also amend your rent as its no longer single-occupancy.
2. You move-one way or another :troll:
OR YOU TELL ME AN ADDRESS WHERE HE FUCKING LIVES!
I leave them with..."I'm home all evening and would like an answer"
So, at this point...I've basically handed you the answer. Why do I do this? Because I would feel as guilty as punching a blind man otherwise. Lie to me! Make up a fucking address. I'll still prove that you lied, and if you still don't like me after that, then I don't know what I can do. At least I get to work on it. A project if you will. The internet is an all knowing place filled with wondrous information. And I was a little bit looking forward to slapping you in the head with it.
But about 20 minutes later she's now at my door. Cool. I don't usually like conducting business at my door, but the guy across the hall could use a reminder of what I'm capable of, so I let it slide.
them"You know, this is ridiculous. He doesn't live here"
Oh shit. The record is skipping again.
me"You know, he admitted that he does. And if he lives somewhere else, all I need is an address."
them"Well, he doesn't have anything here, just his clothes"
Oh. This helps.
me"His clothes, so he does live here"
them"no, he just stays here"
I could still be circling through the conversation now if I wanted to be, but I had to cut it short. I say,
"First don't make that face at me, my eyes are right here. Next, your options are (what was listed above) so why don't you go back downstairs and put some effort into your story and get on the same page. Come back up when you have something credible. I still want an answer tonight, because as mentioned, you've been pulling this shit off for a year, and it ends one way or another tonight."
She called back in 10 minutes and gave her notice.
Sidebar: The "who ya gonna report it to" comment
It took us a few minutes to realize what was happening. I'm not sure on the specifics, but can assume that seeing as I barely see anyone work that someone is getting government checks...checks that might stop, or be decreased because of the new living arrangement.
So we can't have me pissed off, or asking questions and we certainly can't do a credit check.
So instead, to continue the scam, we lose our house.
Hope its worth it.