Tenants Are Tricky

Hey, remember that time when that awkward guy called about the condo? And he called, like, 20 times and kept trying to talk me down on the rent? And then was an hour and a half late to the showing after I had driven eight hours on winding mountain roads in the rain and hadn't had dinner? So we just left? 'Member when I yelled at him on the phone because of that? That was funny.

Omigod and remember when I showed it to that other girl who was really nice and great and would be a way better tenant than the awkward high-maintenance guy? And the showing went really well and she liked it? And then I took her down in the elevator because I'm nice and was showing her out and then just like in some bad high school Drama Club play where two strangers get stuck in an elevator...that girl and I got stuck in the elevator? And I started to worry that she was claustrophobic and I said, "I swear this never happens," about a hundred times which made it sound like I was lying, even though I wasn't?

Remember how we learned that the Alarm button in a stuck elevator just rings a bell that sounds like a phone and that bell doesn't go anywhere like the elevator company or the management company, it just rings pointlessly into the building? The building where no one even makes eye contact, so why the hell would they help you get out of an elevator? And then after we called the management company and the elevator got really hot, we got out and everything was fine.

Except she didn't take the apartment.

And then remember two days and fourteen more rent-debate phone calls later the Awkward Guy said he'd take it? So we cleaned the place like crazy because he wanted it immediately? Only, remember how he brought all of his stuff in a mini-van cab and piled it in the lobby of the building – tons of stuff all crammed into about 20 big orange garbage bags – and then he tried to talk me down on rent again using strange economic theories that the mini-van cab driver gave him? And I wasn't sure what he was doing because he was the one who was homeless and whose stuff was in an orange plastic pile in my lobby?

And then 'member how he didn't end up taking the place?! After all that? And then he had to call another mini-van cab to take him and his great big orange pile of plastic existence to Motel Village? And we just went home kind of baffled and had pizza. Remember all that? God.