Apologies in advance: this is more of an update, and probably not at all funny. Something funny did happen and I do want to tell you about it, but I also want to keep you current on things that… well, you know. So if you’re only here for the funny, go ahead and click off now, or re-read this post, which still makes Husband laugh. I won’t judge.
Still here? Okay.
There I was, recovering from—as you’ll recall—pneumonia, a particularly nasty sinus infection, and a barrage of germs from having sat in four flying sardine cans in three days.
Honestly, it’s a wonder I could breathe at all.
Hang on, I’m telling this in the wrong order. But it’s only because things were a bit hectic. Can we back up a few days?
That was Bob; he wanted to come over, and since I was only mostly dead I graciously put the kettle on and welcomed him into my germicile.
BOB: I just wanted to show you something… (hands me printout)
ME: (looks) Okay, that’s the—
BOB: Yep, that’s the docket for that day, and Scott’s scheduled as (points) representing Sham Property Management Inc LLC—and he’ll have to have a lawyer with him, of course, because it’s a corporation.
BOB: But honestly, I’m going to call and tell him—well, I’ll leave him a message; he’s not answering my calls anymore—but I’m gonna tell him not to even bother showing up because he’s not in compliance.
ME: (shakes head)
BOB: The judge would just tell him to get it fixed and come back when he’s ready to plead guilty and say, “but it’s fixed now.”
ME: The way people are supposed to do.
BOB: Exactly. And then… (shuffles papers nervously)
ME: (bites lip)
BOB: You know I’ve put this off as long as I could.
ME: I know.
BOB: I just… I could lose my job over this, I delayed so long.
ME: I know, and I don’t want that.
BOB: But maybe this will light a fire under them…
ME: (reins in panic)
ALEXANDER HAMILTON: (paws at my leg)
BOB: (glances at Ham) I know, I don’t want to upset you but… (hands me paper)
ME: (pats Ham, takes paper)
BOB: See, we’re just saying that you have two weeks—that’s more than my boss would want me to give you—to get them to get everything fixed or you have to move out.
ME: (stops breathing entirely)
BOB: I hate to do this—
BOB: But maybe if you tell them—
ME: Yeah, I’m gonna do that right now (reaches for phone, starts composing scathing text to Scott)
BOB: I’m really sorry.
ME: I know.
BOB: I just…
BOB: Keep me posted, okay?
ME: Will do. Thanks Bob.
HAMILTON: (demands up so he can calm me)
You’ll recall that Scott was given 30 days to fix this dump and get it re-inspected. If you are possessed of such a memory—or have already clicked that link and caught up—you will also recall this was several months ago.
Scott’s not only a dick, he’s a lazy dick. The worst kind.
So I sent basically the same info in an online Maintenance Request (remember how I’ve been harassing them?) stating they need to get all that shit fixed and the inspection done before the deadline or I would be demanding a full refund of all rent and my deposit and moving expenses covered.
Which brings us to the knock on the door.
JOE: Did they tell you I was comin’?
ME: (shrugs) You know how they are.
JOE: Well, and they’re pretty busy right now…
ME: (smiles) Come on in.
JOE: (entering) I am now in possession of the full inspection list for your house—I didn’t have that before.
JOE: Yeah, I know, right? So now I can get crackin’ on everything and try to get this shit sorted because I understand you’ve got a time crunch—
ME: That’s one way to put it (eyeballs scary paper on end table)
JOE: Well I wanted to stop by today to make sure the electrician has done his job—
ME: Electrical hasn’t been by.
JOE: He hasn’t been… ?
JOE: Okay. I’m gonna call about that. We’ll get ‘im out here. But one thing worried me, I did see on that list that you’ve got some windows that don’t quite open?
ME: In the bedroom, yeah. Now the first guy came by and muscled them open and said, “see, they work” so I wasn’t sure—
JOE: Did he work for our company?
ME: No, he’s Scott’s friend. He’s a part time contractor and he—and I’m quoting him here—“doesn’t have time for all this shit.”
ME: Scott Dickweasel,* at Sham Property Management?
JOE: (sighs, shakes head)
ME: (raises eyebrow)
JOE: Let me go get some lube. (turns to leave)
ME: Uh… you mean like WD-40, right?
JOE: Yeah, I’ll start with that. I’ve got a few kinds in my truck.
ME: (to Hamilton) Just… the way he said that…
Joe fixed the windows, took a look around at a few other things, and we scheduled some stuff. I filled Husband in on the rest when he got home:
ME: So here’s a thing: Joe says his whole team has been pulled off all their other work to, quote, “deal with this Sham business.”
ME: As in, all the Sham Property Management Inc. LLC properties in and around St Louis. They’re all facing the same kind of code issues.
HIM: (stunned) Wait—
ME: Remember how Bob said he was gonna call his colleagues in other areas to check on Sham houses?
HIM: (laughs) Scott is soooo fucked.
ME: Yup. Also, the maintenance company is now handling everything to do with the inspections.
HIM: So they’re doing all the sub-contracting, or…?
ME: Yeah, but also they’re scheduling the inspections. Basically, all that shit Scott was never gonna do.
HIM: If all their houses are the same, that’s better for us in court. I still think we need to talk to a lawyer before we move out.
ME: Yeah, but we may not have to move out, that’s my point.
HIM: (doubtful) Maybe…
ME: And also, this might explain why Scott hasn’t been answering my texts or taking my calls.
HIM: How so?
ME: If he’s already been fired…
HIM: (shrugs) It’s possible.
What do you think? Dare I hope he’s out of a job?
Or is that petty of me?
* Probably his actual name, but not the one he puts on business cards.