Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Hell Hath No Furry Like A Ticked Off Chicken

Cluck-a-doodle-do! Rise and shine, for thy beak is ready to peck the flesh off of a jerk of a property owner. Actually, it's the maintenance manager but no one is doing anything about it. Because this Chickie went a bit postal today.

Lots of flapping and squawking finally got the a/c working AND the bathroom is mostly finished. I was told someone would come out and trim the bathroom and seal the floor. As sure as I'm sitting here, I know they were lying through their tooth.

You read that right.

The rest of the downstairs has no trim and they've done nothing to the concrete floor. So why they thought I was going to believe them that would actually finish off the bathroom when they never finished off the rest of the place is beyond me. Let's put it this way - their crappy work was a lot to be desired and having a husband that was in construction in different areas for lots and lots of years? He's still muttering, and I think he actually sprained his eyebrow. It was that bad.

I was slightly amused that I have a reputation as I heard some of the guys talking about the office manager doesn't like me. Ask me if I care. Go ahead - ask! Hell to the no! She's the chick that I got into a slight cat-fight with over the phone. So I guess she's been telling the guys what a pill I am. For a month, I've had to be up and dressed early every day because I never knew when someone would show up. My favorite was when they arrived at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday just to walk through the place to make a list of what needed to get done. Trouble with that was they were the third round of guys who already did this and yet none of them where the group to actually do the work.

She promised they would call before they showed up. I still think I deserved an award for how fast I leaped out of bed, threw on my clothes and bolted for the door before the jerks took off. Because goodness knows when these idiots would come back out.

Brandon, the maintenance guy, and I clearly hate each other and we don't bother to hide this on the phone. Trouble is he's always on speaker phone and I since I have some of my mother's paranoia genes running through my veins, I'm often wondering - who's there listening? Since I've had people use my edited emails against me, I just don't trust people to be on the up and up. Thank you churches of Michigan - that is what you have taught me. Can't trust anyone.

Gosh, it's such a shock why I will NEVER MOVE BACK THERE! Goodbye Egypt! Good luck with the plague and all that.


Brandon called this morning as we are still waiting for a new dishwasher. Although, I'm under no delusion that these cheap jerks will actually put in a new one. They've sent 4 round of guys to check the stupid thing out. Here's a clue geniuses - it doesn't work! We were told to just run a cleaner through it and when we told them we did, four times with no results. That's usually when Cletus, Otis, JimBob, Earl, and/or Hank all came to the brilliant opinion that gosh, we need a new one.

This has been going on for well over a month with just the dishwasher so yes, the bitterness, the angst, and all around general fury is at an all time high.

I talked to a guy who was supposed to replace the dishwasher last week but he wanted to color coordinate with the other appliances and didn't have any white ones. Not to mention he was planning on going on vacation so shucky-darn, it would have to be done Monday. Monday came and went - nothing. Tuesday came and went - still nothing. Phone calls were made and that's went Brandon called back.

His southern drawl was so dead to me and after listening to him hem and haw for a few minutes, I spat out I don't care about the stupid color, I just want a dishwasher that works! He said there were no white ones available to which I repeated myself I didn't care about color. I tried to nail him on a time frame to which he said it would be a few days to a week. I shot back that I was told that a week ago and I was calling because I was already told another one would have been installed by now.

Score 1 for me!

His long pause reeked of busted and tried to push the blame off his sorry shoulders and wanted to know who I talked to so he could say that was out of his hands. Me, chicken feathers flying by this point, shot back not my job to get this squared away or to remember who was in charge especially since I've had a whole crew of people trample through the place with little to show for it. He said he would make a few phone calls, which I parted with a 'ya, you do that.' and hung up.

2 minutes later he called back and real snotty like said I should have a dishwasher by the weekend and then hung up on me! I think I stared at my phone for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. But I'm pretty sure I may have least we'll see if I've won if I have a working dishwasher by the weekend.

I then spent the next 15 minutes hopping around the kitchen, squawking like a chicken, flipping off my phone, and calling the guy all kinds, interesting....uh, names. Colorful names and what he could do with himself with different instruments of pain. Jerk.

But I've spent the rest of the day trying to calm my feathers down. So far, it's not working.