You Decide

So, this past month I have not made any good friends over at the ole' property management company. In fact, I am pretty sure when the phone over rings, and they see the Arizona area code, they all stare into space, kind of playing their own version receptionist "Chicken" to see who will answer it first.

To put things into perspective, Flunky (who has been tentatively promoted in my book lately from "Asshat" to "Hat") and I currently have most stable relationship over there. So, as you can see. I am not loved. But I don't care as long as they do what I pay them to do.

Which brings me to the other aspect of this month. I have a vacant home. It needs some maintenance. So, at the beginning of November, I asked for the power and water to be turned on at the home. I also asked for a key to be left in the lockbox and even verified the code (1966--because that is what it always is).

Two weeks later, when I had coordinated everything with my repair people, the locks had been changed again (this is after they had changed it in October). There was no key. There was no lockbox either. About that time I was going ballistic over the property management folks continuing to drop the ball and pretty much was black-listed from everyone's Christmas card list.

The week before Thanksgiving, I got a call from the maintenance company I hired. Would I please turn on the power and water? This was news to me. After all, I had requested this weeks ago. The maintenance company also asked if a lockbox could be put at the home so they could come and go. Another surprise, given I was specifically told this had been done.

Last week, I contacted Willy, asking if someone for the love of all things holy could please have the damn water and power turned on. After all, I had been asking for a month and had been told it was completed. I also asked if I could have a lockbox--like the one that had been there a week earlier--reinstalled so I could get my repair folks in the door.

Willy replied by telling me some intern was involved in this process. I wanted to ask if they taught "picking up the phone and calling the power company" in one of her college classes, but thought better of it. Willy also directed me to Flunky who swore a lockbox had been installed. I even confirmed the code with him the Wednesday before Thanksgiving: 1966? Yep. That's it.

Additionally, I got back to Willy on the Wednesday prior to Thanksgiving confirming the intern had earned her keep by making those two itsy bitsy phone calls. Why yes, of course the water and power are on! Don't be silly. After all, she is a college student.

Last Friday--the day after Thanksgiving--I found out there was indeed a lockbox. But the code wasn't 1966. After texting Flunky, he gave me 1995 and 1985. Nope.

I also texted Luigi saying, "I understand this is a holiday weekend, but I have people who have been held up a month by you folks waiting to get in the house and please have the one person who can figure out the lockbox code that has always been 1966 for the past three years contact me immediately." It turns out the code is now 1996.

Also, this 1955 house, apparently is impossible to break into unless one is shattering a window.

Once that drama was solved, the good folks at Make It Ready went in. Only to find out the water hadn't been turned on. According to Willy today, it was because it was a holiday week last week. I did not pursue this and ask if it had indeed been holiday weeks the last five weeks this request had been made. I figure I have done enough damage.

Marty Sunshine and Carolsue think this is retaliation for Hurricane Landlord a couple of weeks ago. I am leaning towards incompetence.