Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

She Was Meeeeeeeeean!

We had finally picked out an apartment. We both agreed on it, it had everything that we wanted, it was the right price... we made the decision, yes, we are going to put a deposit on this apartment. Well, it all came crashing down last night as we attempted to fill out the application and give the people our money. For the sake of the story, I should just let you know that this is one of the biggest complexes around here, and they easily have 500 to 1000 units in there. So they aren't hurting, and we weren't trying to get a million dollar estate.
We went into the office and told the lady there that we wanted to put down a deposit. I don't know her name, because she never bothered to introduce herself. I will call her Meanie, because even if that isn't her name, it should be. Meanie led us over to a table and asked for our licenses to make copies. We obliged. Meanie came back and started going over the application, that we had already filled out, with us. At first things were fine, until she got to our copied license. A while ago, before we even met, A* was having some problems at home and went to stay with a friend for a little while. I think it was only for about 6 weeks or so. Anyway, his license still lists that address on it, because he wanted to be able to get his bills at his friend's house. A* was never on the lease, no one even knew he was staying there. So Meanie points to the address and says, "What is this address?" A* explained to her about his friend, and he wasn't on the lease, blah blah. Meanie says, "We still need to have that number." A* tells her again that he wasn't on the lease, and besides, his friend has since moved to Florida and A* doesn't even talk to him anymore. Meanie persists- she needs that number. She tells A* that he needs to go to the apartment where he used to live and get the number for her. Fine, even though they will have no idea who he is, fine. Just stop talking, Meanie. Then before she even gets to my license, I tell her that the address on my license is from college, and I also don't live there anymore. I tell her that the people that owned it were my friend's parents, so it wasn't a formal thing. "We need that number." Meanie also proceeds to tell us that "we really should get those licenses taken care of, and why haven't we taken care of it" like we are the only people in the world who have a different address on their license. At this point, I was a little sick of Meanie. I don't need another mother, I like the one that I have quite nicely, thank you.

Even through this, A* and I were still pleasant and interested in the apartment. So we plugged on. We hand her the money, which she looks at in disgust and says, "We don't take cash. We only take money orders or a credit card." Well, seeing as we had been there two days ago and asked for the application and no one had told us that cash wasn't accepted. We explained to Meanie that we only had cash.
"Well, there is a CVS down the street, but we close in 20 minutes. If you can make it back in time, that's fine, but if not, we can't hold the apartment for you."

Still trying to be polite, we ran down to CVS. I honestly don't think Meanie thought that we were coming back, and really we shouldn't have. But we did. We came back and handed her the money order. Then we found out that you have to have double that amount in order to have pets, another fact that was not mentioned previously. We handed over our money and application, and Meanie said, "Sorry to rush you, but it's almost time to close," and pretty much ushered us out the door. As we were leaving, another nicer lady called out to us to have a good night, but Meanie was too busy sharpening her claws or something, and didn't say anything.

All of this combined to make me feel like a big Loser. I felt like Meanie was looking for reasons not to rent us the apartment, though I don't know why. As we were leaving the parking lot, I began to cry... in frustration and embarrassment. I hate Meanie.

Today A* thought and thought about it, and came to the conclusion that he didn't like our treatment. After all, we were giving them money, and a lot of it. So he called the rental office and asked to speak to a leasing manager. He was told there was no such person. Now, I know that there aren't just a bunch of people down there just sitting around with no boss. I know it, and if they are telling the truth, then I want to work there. A* told the person on the phone that he didn't appreciate being told what to do, ie: licenses, and also didn't like all of these hidden rules that were coming out when no one told us before about them. The lady on the phone said that the agents were instructed to be "helpful". A* told her that this wasn't helpful, only made us feel like shit. He also explained (again) about him staying with his friend and how he wasn't on the lease and even if they called the landlord he wouldn't know about A* anyway, and how A*'s friend had skipped out on the lease so even if the landlord knew who he was, he still wouldn't get a good recommendation. The lady told him that "sorry, but we have to call everywhere that you have lived in the past five years" and about his friend "yes, you probably would get rejected" even though A* didn't do anything wrong. At this point, A* got more than a little frustrated and f-bombs began to fly. He hung up before he said anything else.

We are going to pick up our money today. We will not be living in this apartment, even if they offered it to us for free.
The hunt is back on.


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