So I've been having a little bit of a problem with the maintenance in my relatively new, well, new to me, apartment. Before I go into the back story, let me tell you that I heard the golf cart pull up about 10 minutes ago, so I put my dogs in their kennels so they wouldn't be underfoot. He hasn't come in yet, so he must be working on a neighbor's place or something. I don't even know if it's the same guy who is working on my disaster. So right now my dogs are in their crates throwing fits because they know I'm still here, but I don't want to let them out because the maintenance guy could show up any time, and after somebody knocks on the door, it's about a hundred times more difficult to get them in their crates. So I'll just sit here and wait for a few.
Anyway, since I moved in a month and a half ago, I've had many problems ranging from irritating to obnoxious to just plain bad. It takes days for anything to be fixed unless it's a true emergency. The funniest/most interesting/most irritating story up until now was my demonic oven.
So when I first moved in, the clock on the stove was wrong. I was too busy to fix it at first, but after a couple of weeks, I wanted to know the right time. So I set the time, and a couple hours later, I was getting ice cubes out of my freezer when the oven started beeping for no apparent reason. I pushed every button, and the only thing that made my beeping stop was to have the oven on. Even in winter I would not want to leave my oven on all the time, but the beginning of June...forget it. So I called the office and left a message while standing next to the beeping stove so they could hear it. An hour or so later, I called back and talked to a real person; I don't think they had heard my message.
After four hours of nonstop beeping and no sign of the maintenance guy, I posted something on Facebook about how I was going crazy. My mom saw it, and since she lives in the same complex as me, she came over to try to help me figure it out. After much fussing, we decided to pull the stove out, unplug it, and plug it back in. That, luckily, made the beeping stop. That is, until I tried to set the time again. That caused the beeping to resume, so we unplugged and re-plugged it again and did not set the time. This time the beeping stayed silent.
That is until a couple of days later, when it turned itself on and started beeping again. And when I say it turned itself on, I mean heat was actually being produced. That is a fair amount scarier than just beeping. That time, I somehow got it to stop for a couple hours, but when it turned itself back on again, my mom came over and helped me pull it out so we could unplug it again. This time I left it unplugged and started pestering the office more frequently. I was stove-less for about a week before the maintenance guy finally showed up. He plugged it in, thought he had it fixed, and then it turned itself on again, or so it indicated, but this time there was no heat. Actually, when he turned on burners, he couldn't even get heat from those, either. So I suppose the demonic stove was using the beeping to prophessize its own demise. In any case, the maintenance man decided I needed a new stove, but it took a couple days for me to get one. Since I was a little frightened to use my stove even before we unplugged it, I wound up being stove-less for about two weeks. And all this drama doesn't even begin to compare to what I've been dealing with for the past week.
And now it has been nearly half an hour with no sign of the maintenance man. Guess I'll take my dogs out and resume writing in a few minutes.
***
Anyway, two or three weeks ago, I noticed a leak in the ceiling of my coat closet. I reported it, and it took several days for somebody to come look at it. When the guy finally came, he determined that no pipes were leaking, it was just condensation from the A/C, and once the leak dried up, they could patch it up, no problem. Last Tuesday, I was sitting here eating breakfast when I heard a strange dripping sound. I got up to investigate. It wasn't coming from the bathroom, and it couldn't come from the bedroom, so I realized with horror that it must be that leak in the closet. I was unprepared for what I saw when I opened the closet door. The leak had gotten so bad that it had destroyed everything on the top right side of the closet shelf (mostly paper towels and kleenex, luckily), rolled to the middle of the now-warped shelf, was dripping off the shelf and into the crevice on the underside of a folded metal folding chair, and was then splashing because the crevice was already full of water, so the floor of the closet was wet too. I frantically called the office, first getting the answering machine, then calling back and telling the guy I practically had a waterfall in my closet and they should send somebody to look at it asap.
It took an hour and a half for somebody to come look at my near-waterfall asap. Guess leaks that big aren't a high priority.
Anyway, the same usual guy came and said yes, it was definitely condensation, but the problem was that the pan that is supposed to catch the condensation was rusted through, so it was leaking through the pan and through the ceiling. For some reason I still don't fully understand, he was not capable of replacing this pan himself. He would have to call his boss after lunch.
Tuesday afternoon, I heard nothing.
Wednesday, nothing.
Thursday, some poor office schmuck was doing calls to see if everybody's maintenance requests had been properly fixed. I was as polite to him as I could manage, but I was thoroughly irritated by that point. He said he would look into it.
A few hours later, he called again, seemingly not realizing he had already talked to me. This time he said he would put my paperwork into a high-priority pile to make sure somebody looked at it.
Friday I came home from work and was startled to find a different maintenance guy messing around with my leak. He was pretty sure it was simply a matter of the pipes needing better insulation. So he messed around with that for a while, then said, "Oh, yeah, your pan is rusted. See?" I looked up and saw a very rusty pan, indeed. "I thought it was just the pipes, but it's definitely the pan. Let me go see if we have one."
So he left and came back with a pan after a while. Then it was five o'clock and he says, "I have to take off the top of your closet door to finish. Do you want me to do that tonight or tomorrow? Are you going anywhere?" Tomorrow is fine. I was too broke and too sweaty to go kill time somewhere and I didn't particularly want to hang around here for two hours of noise and a grouchy maintenance guy who would probably rather be out partying.
Saturday I came home to a mess and still the new pan was not installed. He had indeed removed the top of the closet and done...I don't know what else aside from creating a mess. I'm very glad my dogs are crated when I am gone, because there was a smorgasbord of evilness on the floor for my dogs to eat. There were three long screws, a bunch of drywall, lots of bits of plastic, and I don't remember what else that had to be picked up before my dogs hit the buffet.
The most infuriating thing was discovering that he had used the toilet, thrown in debris (even though there is a trash can right next to the toilet), left the seat up, and NOT FLUSHED! I'm a female and I live alone; coming home to a used, seat-up toilet is rather horrifying.
So after all this, I was rather upset, but I figured he'd come back Monday to finish the job.
Sunday night I realized I hadn't emptied the drip pan, and it was overflowing by the time I remembered. More of a mess, yay. The closet is starting to smell like mildew.
Yesterday (Monday), I came home to an even bigger mess than Saturday. Now the entire closet door is off the hinges, the entire closet ceiling is ripped out - and still no insulation on the pipes and the nice new pan is still hanging out in my dining room. Also, again, with the debris all over the floor and the used, seat-up toilet. Not even so much as a note to explain what the hold up is and when he might come back to fix it.
I stalked down to the office and complained to the office manager, trying to keep my temper in check because this isn't his fault. He promised to find out who is responsible, whether it is an employee or a vendor, and call me back.
That was yesterday at five. I never heard back and just assumed he couldn't get hold of the right guy. The office opens at nine, so I waited until after ten to call. They were in the middle of some crisis and he still didn't know exactly who to yell at except that it was one of the vendors and not one of his employees.
It's now one, and I haven't heard back from the office manager and I haven't seen a maintenance man. Last night I realized I needed to lean the closet door against the frame to keep my dogs out of some of the mess. Of course, there is still a lot of foam insulation laying around that looks like a toy or snack, so I need to be ever vigilant.
And tomorrow is the fourth of July, which I have to assume means nobody will be working, so if this doesn't get fixed today, it won't get fixed until at least Thursday. This is absolutely ridiculous.
And that is why I loathe the maintenance man.
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