Thursday, February 14, 2013

Give Me My Spare Key

   The apartment complex that I live in keeps one spare key in the office. This is for practical reasons, like if the renter gets locked out on accident, or if there is repair work that needs to be done or an emergency. Typically, this is a reasonable practice.
   However, when the office gives your spare key out to potential renters so that they can view the apartment, this policy becomes a huge problem. The giving of your particular apartment key was, granted, an accident, but what a mistake to make!
Not cool to be handing this out. 
   This happened to me today. I was coming back from picking my daughter up from school, and as I walked up to my apartment, a rather large Samoan family is coming right out of my apartment. I flip out, and I'm talking spitting fire flip-out, and the poor lady, I assume the mother, is holding up what I recognize as a key that has come from the office. They all have little paper tags on them and this one does have my apartment number on the tag. So I try to calm down, because this lady looks truly horrified.
  "Someone lives here?" she asks, and you can see the confusion on her face, and the older daughter is looking pissed, and to be fair, I did just go off on them for coming out of my apartment, and this mistake is not their mistake. What doesn't help is that the office lady is still in the office, and is not there to mediate at all; she has just set these people loose in the the apartment complex with a random key. Why not; what the hell? Who wants to do their job when they can just sit on their ass behind a computer?
   "I live here! This is my apartment!" I yell, although I am trying to calm down and redirect my rage. My daughter is just sitting back and watching the fireworks. The girl is giggling; my child is weird.
   "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" the mother is saying, and I do feel bad, because I would hate to be in her shoes. How uncomfortable, and she has to be wondering if I am a loony-tune and if I'm fixing to accuse her of stealing things that she didn't take. (I mean, I did check because I'm not stupid, but this was an honest family, nothing was missing.)
   Since I have the complex number in my cell, I call up there and give the lady an earful, but she's just stammering "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, it's been one of those days!" I don't give a shit what kind of day you've had, you just gave my key to a random stranger, and I was only lucky that these people were decent.
   These people were lucky as well, because this could have been so much worse. What if I was a freak? What if they walked into my apartment and I had like, 50 pet snakes. What if I had a bunch of bondage shit hanging from my ceiling??? What if I was a creepy voodoo practitioner and they walked in on one of my evil rituals and I stole there souls forever??? Look at what happened in that Kate Hudson movie, The Skeleton Key. She plan out got her body snatched. They just got yelled at by a pissed-off single mom who tried to calm her ass down when she realized that this was not their fault. This could have been so much worse. No thanks to the apartment office lady, this worked out peaceably, because neither one of us were freaks. 

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