So, my wake up call this morning consisted of the smell of raw sewage, followed by the discovery of a flooded basement. Par for the course, of course.
This is one of those scenarios that isn't just bad, it's going to get worse before it is resolved. Because, this requires a call to my landlord. Take me home now, Baby Jesus. Take me home, right now.
I can't complain about my landlord. The guy is johnny-on-the-spot when I have a problem. And when my girlfriend switched jobs and her direct deposit took longer than expected to get sorted out, he shrugged about the rent and told us he knew we were good for it, just mail it out whenever. All-in-all, he's good people.
That being said; talking to my landlord (whose name is infamous for rhyming with molester) is an experience. Imagine giving a squirrel about 7 long lines of coke with a few espresso chasers, and you'll get the picture. This guy is all over the board. He's wound tighter than grandma's bun. Whenever I have to call this guy, I envision a scenario where I am forced to grab onto an electric fence to avoid falling off a cliff. It's painful, and forever after I'm wondering if the fall would have really killed me.
But, I have no choice. There is no way to describe the smell that permeated my apartment this morning. I felt like Ewan McGregor in that scene from Trainspotting, where he dives into the shit filled toliet bowl to retrieve his opium.
It turns out, my upstairs neighbors must have run out of toilet paper, and since they are just ghetto fabulous morons living off the government tit, they thought wiping with paper towels would be okay. They also seem to think diapers are flushable.
While my landlord is in the basement, I wander down. I'm that kind of guy. Thanks for coming out, want some coffee, anything I can do to help? Aside from the fact that dude is manic depressive sans the depression...I genuinely like him. And, I feel bad for any human being that has to clean up another human being's feces. (been there, done that, had it thrown at my face) It's a shitty job, pun intended.
I'm listening to the guy tirade. It's a thing of beauty. It's like watching the Micro Machines spokesman lose his mind. Yet, midstream, he utters a little something-something that send me back on my heels.
"Next time you see them, you let them know..."
Stop the presses. Hold the phone. Back the fuck up and shut the front door. Did you just pass the buck?
Listen, I'm a confrontational guy. I don't mind jumping somneone's shit (I'm going to have to clarify about the pun everytime I post the word 'shit' in this post, huh?). But...that's not my job. You're the landlord. I'm a tenant. I pay you to take care of business.
Not only should this guy be telling them, he should have marched his ass upstairs and informed them that my apartment smelled like the public restroom at the mall. He should have insisted that they be down there helping, not me. And, he should have served them with an eviction notice. Directly.
I've posted about the upstairs neighbors before. They're loud. They're obnoxious. They live on welfare and let their children run rampant like Lord of the Flies rejects. It's high time these fuckers were voted off the island of Life.
If you've ever rented, you know the type of people I'm talking about. And worse, you know that landlords just seem to tolerate them, or make them your responsibility. It's a bullshit scenario. When you live next to, above or below someone, getting in their face and creating harsh feelings is a last resort. You can't pick your neighbors, you just have to deal with them on a regular basis. Problems and complaints should be the sole domain of the landlord. You know, the person raking in the cash.
Stuff like this is problematic. I try and rationally explain that you are too loud. You get passive-aggressive and get even louder. I call the cops or pound on your door. You, in turn, vandalize my car. I have no choice but to seek retribution by raping your dog... It's a vicious cycle that never ends. It's a headache that is only equal to the headache I currently have because my apartment still has that lingering smell I know will take days to dissipate.
Neighbors... I view them as cannon fodder in the event of the Zombie Apocalypse.
Landlords? Two Irishmen were walking their landlord out to execute him. It was raining. The landlord says: "Tis a terrible day to die." One of the Irishmen scowls and retorts: "You selfish bastard. At least you don't have to walk back in it."
I hate people that pass the buck. Truly. I have enough shit on my plate to deal with, I don't need to handle your business too. Especially, if your business is number 2.