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No one must know my terrible secret...

House of Noh!


Tuesday, June 08, 2004

It turns out that my apartment is in a really, really old building. At least, that’s what the maintenance man here tells me. He also explained that, because the building is so old, I shouldn’t have any expectations of getting anything that’s wrong with my apartment fixed, on account of what an old building it is, he has explained to me, and no, he‘s not going to fix anything that is wrong with my apartment. And so now it’s with weary resignation that I keep a Rubbermaid tub filled with room temperature water in the bathroom next to the shower, so that in the morning when I stand there in the tub covered with soap and the pipes gurgle to a dry stop - once I listen to the pipes gurgle weakly and die without returning to life for a period of time that satisfies me that the water will not return until long after I have gone to work, I un-lid the rubbermaid bucket holding my emergency water and dump it over my head. Then, again with weary resignation, I just have to go about my day and get dressed and go to work with soap-stinging eyes that get all red and make it look like I’ve been crying. Actually, the red-eyes don’t really make much of a practical difference anyway because on most weekday mornings, after I’ve drunk my first cup of coffee but before somebody calls me to their office to yell at me and call me an idiot, usually at around the time that somebody calls me on the phone to explain that I’m an inefficient dumb-ass, I customarily cry for a little while, just a few minutes, at my desk anyway. The “old building” routine is not the only method my maintenance man uses to get out of work. His standby favorite is to act cloyingly appeasing in an attempt to gain favor with his tenants. I believe that in his mind, if his tenants like him, they won’t ask him to fix any of the things that are terribly wrong with their apartments. The maintenance man supplants his solicitous friendliness by also, at any conceivable point in an interaction with a tenant, remarking on how busy he is. Presumably, his rationale is that his tenants won’t ask him to fix any of the things that are terribly wrong with their apartment if they believe that he is very busy. For example: Maintenance man: “Hello! How are you! I hope you are doing great!” Me: “I am, thank you!” Maintenance man: “But please, would you like to know how I am also?” Me: “Yes of course, how could I forget.” Maintenance man: “I’m EXTREMELY fucking busy right now, and will be EXTREMELY fucking busy until, well…. about until your lease runs out.” Sometimes too, if you do remind him of a needed repair, like, if you push through his preemptory techniques and confront him on a needed repair, he’ll put it all together and wail and wail about how busy he is and what an old building we live in and how we shouldn’t expect to have any repairs done, etc. etc. He makes quite a scene, and sometimes I’m afraid that he’ll drop to his knees and reach up and grab my hand and plead with me or something or pull out his hair or rend his clothing. I don’t think I’ve ever had one repair done to my apartment - and to be honest I haven’t ever gone through and asked for much, but this whole routine has been going on between the maintenance man and me for about a year now. But just this last weekend I noticed that after all this time, the routine was getting a little more… I don’t know, honest maybe? On Saturday I was walking back from the Laundromat and discovered that one of the maintenance man’s henchman must have spilled a box of rusty old nails in the parking lot. I picked up a few but then noticed that the whole parking lot was full of nails and screws and various tire-puncturing debris. About an hour later I walked through the parking lot again and I found the maintenance guy standing there beside his truck: Maintenance man: “Hello! How are you! I hope you are doing great!” Me: “I’m doing great, but say, I think one of your guys dropped a bunch of nails in the parking lot.” Maintenance man: (immediately commencing to wail and looking at me with pleading eyes) “Please! Please don’t be made at me!” I was a little taken aback, I mean, it wasn’t a big deal and I wasn’t angry at him in the least - why would I be? Honest mistakes happen and some nails in the parking lots can be cleaned up easily. Me: “No, I’m not mad at all, I don’t even have a car here, I just wanted to bring those nails to your attention because I think somebody who does have a car is going to get a flat or something.” Maintenance man: (wailing more loudly and even more desperately) Please! Please don’t be mad at me! Please don’t be mad at me because I am not going to clean those nails up! Please don’t be mad at me for never having any intention of even considering remedying the problem of which you speak. Please, PLEASE! don’t be mad at me for ignoring what you just said and instead thinking about professional wrestling while you were talking!”

Brian 12:20 AM

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