Apartment Management

It’s impossible to reach the people who manage my apartment complex. After about a month of texting calling emailing google review bitching screaming into the open air I got into contact with one of the leasing company managers. Please let me tour another place. I like the neighborhood but the loud terrible bitches across the hall and their dogs keep me up every night screaming at each other because they’re poor. I get no sun light in my apartment. Please let me see something else, I beg of you. 

I finally meet with one of these people. Dark rainy Wednesday morning. Classic Seattle. She’s maybe younger than me. Overweight. Nose ring. Pink hair. What the fuck. You’re in charge here? Hundreds of tenants. They’re all waiting on a reply from this creature. It all makes sense now. 

She takes me up to a 200 square foot closet with a view of several dumpsters. In three seconds: Oh I was hoping to look at the bigger ones. I saw there was one available now on the site. The one I mentioned online when I messaged you forty times. 

She’s like yeah… I was gonna show you that one but the maintenance guys have the keys… so… we’ll have to book another appointment…

Me: …Well that’s unfortunate.