Hot Air Blues

Yesterday my 'Property Manager' calls me on my cell phone and asks me if by any chance I’m home. I said no, unfortunately not. She lost (misplaced was the exact term) her copy of my apartment key and cannot open my apartment door. Does that even happen? Whatever happened to copying the key more than once? More importantly, whose cell phone do I get to call if I lose my own key?

The ‘emergency’ was that the maintenance guys needed to put my air conditioning unit back in the apartment. You see, we’re like little kids and cannot control our own temperature, so the air conditioning gets ‘confiscated’ away from us in winter.

I had just gotten to work around 8 a.m. and it was 9:30 when she called and I had to excuse myself to go and ‘let the maintenance guys in’. Who the fuck is supposed to believe that? My boss barely did. Of course it didn’t help that ‘SMART ASS’ threw in the “Oh, so you’re going to hide your fix-paraphernalia real quick.” Either way, I left and jetted home where I had to wait for 15 minutes until the dudes showed up. Wait until they installed the A.C. since they don’t have a key to lock the place again. Ok, so we’re good can I get back to my work now? Not quite.

You see, there’s some test that the A.C. guys perform and the A.C. has to respond. They basically toggle the switch between ‘fan’ and ‘cool’ and wait to hear a ‘GLUNG’. I swear, I’m probably spelling it wrong but Mr. Man kept saying that it’s not going ‘GLUNG’ and that they know my thermostat is kind of screwed up – so there is a very real possibility that I need a replacement unit.
Ok, so spend an hour at work, and two at home … I reeeeaaally could get used to that. Nice theory, but I just couldn’t do it. I absolutely had to be back at work for an 11 a.m. ass-whooping.

My theory on meetings: You see, so far I’ve noticed that there are some key times where people schedule ‘meetings’. 8:00 a.m. is a very popular one, but you know nothing serious is about to happen at 8 a.m. everyone is too into licking the donut-glaze off their fingers or blowing the steam of their coffee. Love it at 8:00 a.m. If you are ever thinking about dropping a couple of F-bombs in a professional environment … this is your hour of power.

Then there’s 4:00 p.m. This one is a little more unpredictable because one would think that naturally everyone is thinking about going home so no shit would hit the fan at a 4:00 p.m. meeting. HOWEVER, that time is also extremely opportune for you to be asked to just leave and not come back tomorrow. So be cautious about 4:00 p.m. and it would help to make really BIG, WONDERFUL, SHORT-DEADLINED and (undeliverable) promises at a 4:00 p.m. meeting.

But 11:00 a.m. is definitely the bad one. 11:00 is English for “I’m warmed up, looking forward to lunch and I wanna FUCK SOMEBODY UP before I go eat away what little guilt I have about it.” It’s also every other language for “I’m gonna RUIN (AND DOCUMENT) RUINING YOUR LIFE … now go and get fat.”

Back to the apartment dilemma. I marched on over to Stacy’s office (property manager) and worked it out with her so that she would lock my door and hide the key for me somewhere obscure. Russian Roulette if you ask me considering there …is…. ONLY… one left. I’ve even started nicknaming (remember, I talk to inanimate objects for the good of my soul) my key “The Precious”. Fuck that ring and hobbit business; this is where it’s at. Came back at 7:00 p.m. and surely enough, the key was hidden under the third plant pot on the left when you walk into the lobby through the back entrance.

Considering how paranoid I am (or at least I think so, you’d be damn nuts to refute) I think I made a big stride yesterday. Well, except for the part that I’m convinced the maintenance guys logged on to my online poker account and dwindled my big fat winnings pot – but that’s for another post. I guess it could have been worse; they could have ordered ‘FAT ALBERT’ on my OnDemand and HeyHeyHey-ed their afternoon at my expense.

The downside is, I don’t know if they ever replaced my A.C. unit. It LOOKS the same and I have no idea what the ‘GLUNG’ I’m listening for sounds like. The weather isn’t quite yet conducive to start paying more in electric than I do in rent … but it’s coming, lurking, creeping (and I thought I’d never be interested in a summer job ever again). You can surely count on my excessively fussy, whiny and babyish rant about that to be coming to a screen near you this summer.

Note: What if Stacy came and chilled here and watched like 3 chic flicks (Bridget Jones, The Notebook and My Little Black Book). Fuck that if I must pay for any of those movies to be watched by ANYONE.