Remember all the things I was promised would happen in my apartment before I moved in? The list involved things like replacing the blinds in the front room, replacing the lights in the bathroom, cleaning the stove, and replacing the burner cover thingys, and cleaning the carpets (again). Well, if you don't remember, the only task off this list that was accomplished prior to my move-in date was the matter of the carpets. They were sure clean. Otherwise, I was on my own. Somebody left a package of blinds, but other than that, I had to go out into the world myself and find all replacement materials--lights, burner cover thingys. I wasn't surprised, really. And, it's not like I can't put up blinds or fix the lights in the bathroom.
Well, this past week, amidst the craziness of the early semester mayhem, the maintenence man who lives on-site knocked on my door. His name is Bob. He is paid to work part time on the property, handling maintenece for over thirty apartments, as well as the grounds. So, I have a good amount of sympathy for Bob, and not a whole lot of sympathy for the management company that seems to think having a part time maintenence guy is sufficent for my apartment complex. Anyway, Bob knocked on my door, asking about the laundry list of things that were supposed to be done in the apartment before I moved in.
I moved in four weeks ago. And, though I understand the wheels of beaurocracy move slowly, am I really expected to wait four weeks to fix the lights in my bathroom, to replace the burner cover thingys on my stove, and to put up new blinds. I told Bob that I had indeed taken care of all of these things. He gave me this once-over, a surprised look on his face, and I had to bite back a remark (you know, something to the effect of, "Just because you keep your brains inbetween your legs, and since I don't have that oh-so-handy storage unit for my brains, does not mean I don't have brains. Moron." No, I was polite. I figured I could shock him by telling him things like how I can use a circular saw, a drill, and I even know how to arc weld. But I didn't want Bob feeling any more inferior than he already did.
Then Bob informed me that they're replacing all the locks on all the front doors in the apartment complex. So, we set up a time for him to come by and replace the deadbolt on my front door. Now, keep in mind, my apartment has a back door as well. Are we replacing that deadbolt? Oh, no. Why ever would that make any sense. Again, I'm being good and keeping my mouth shut. So, Bob was supposed to come by on Friday morning. He showed up Sunday afternoon.
All the time he's installing this new deadbolt--and there was a considerable amount of time put into installing this fancy new deadbolt--he's telling me about how great this new deadbolt is, how expensive it is, how you can't get the keys duplicated, and how NOBODY's coming through my front door once this thing is installed. Hmmmm. No, why would anybody try breaking in through my front door? They can use the back door that doesn't have this fancy new deadbolt. Or, better yet, they can climb in through the crappy windows that are only about 2 1/2 feet off the ground. Yes, I feel so much safer knowing my front door has this fancy new deadbolt that has a key that can't be duplicated so when I lose it I'll forever have to enter and exit my apartment through the backdoor (or the aforementioned windows). Yes, this is such a great idea.
Well, Bob leaves, having completed his task, and the first thing I do is to check that the deadbolt indeed works. It doesn't. It seems my key has to be in the lock for the deadbolt to turn. However, the deadbolt doesn't remain locked (in other words, I can't pull out the key once I've locked the door). Hmmm. This seems to defeat the purpose, no? So now I have a new deadbolt that doesn't work as opposed to the old one that did.
Anyway, I chased down Bob. Convinced him that, though I'm a woman missing the proper equipment that regularly stores your brains, the new lock was not working properly. I dragged him back to the apartment, and I had to physically show him that the deadbolt was indeed not working. He left to consult the almighty directions included with the new deadbolt (which he had not looked at before, heaven fobid!). Needless to say, I finally have a deadbolt that works. It only took several days, and three visits from Bob.
