Laments of a Frustrated Twenty-Something Who Still Rents: A Letter to the Realtor

I didn’t feel it was appropriate to text you this late, but there are a few things that need to be addressed. I just walked in my bathroom and my rug was soaking wet. I looked underneath the sink to assess the situation and I found everything soaked – including my entire storage of toilet paper. This has happened once before, but I figured it was just due to perpetual maintenance and I didn’t want to make a stir.

I have tried to be very patient with the process, considering it is extremely confusing, involves many people, crosses International waters being that the homeowner lives in Europe, and I get no communication from you other than text message as you do not answer the phone. I sent you an email a while back expressing my frustration with a few situations. You replied asking me to fix the screen door and gave no response or feedback regarding my questions that begged resolution.

I have asked, for more than a year, for the electric to be looked at and repaired. I said nothing when a storm came through. Although connected to a surge protector and powered off, my three-month old TV was destroyed. I said nothing because regardless of every protective measure, “acts of God” happen which absolve you from having to lift your pretty little finger. Had I not bought 3 brand new heaters that – without spiritual forces – also met their maker while plugged into the death traps that are my outlets, I would have likely deduced those “acts” and the destruction of my TV were solely caused by God. I don’t believe God would smite me by killing my heat and my access to Netflix. I’m sure He has better things to do. However, it begs question and further evaluation, as it is a well-known and proven theory that twice is a coincidence and three times is a conspiracy. Four times? Leave Him out of it. Fix the electric.

I took my own initiative to replace the TV without complaint or raising issue, as I have been guilty in the past of causing aggravation myself. There have been many “acts of God” that have forced me to reevaluate my scenarios and look internally for resolution…and I have learned to live very comfortably without Netflix and am humbled, daily, by how fortunate I am. Yet I would be remiss if during this reflection, I didn’t worry about you. It must have been extremely taxing to have someone besides yourself call me to ask that I take my trash to the dumpster and train my dog not to poo in someone else’s yard. And fix a screen door so people in your industry don’t cringe when they are attempting to making a profit by selling the unit beside me. How awful that eye sore must be, and how difficult that must have been to deal with. Again – my apologies.

Nevertheless, I have mentioned and asked repeatedly from the commencement of my lease (when I used the microwave while preheating my oven and the power went off in 3 rooms), and again repeatedly after I renewed for a second year, for the electric to not just be looked at, but be fixed. Instead, we have gone in circles and I have been told, repeatedly, that “someone will be sent to handle it and they will contact you for your schedule”. You must not cook. I’m sure that is another a task you find difficult, and compensate with passive aggressive work-arounds like boxing up a five-star meal and paying for it with the money you got from your divorce. I’m sure he didn’t marry you for your epicurean skills. Odds are towards the end, the oven wasn’t the only thing lacking heat. I’ll put my money on that winning hand for sure.

I have asked repeatedly for the shower door to be removed. Maybe you are starting to sense a pattern here. This is only after the situation escalated and it was installed without proper judgement – only because there was little to no communication on the subject of the flooring due to your assumed anthropophobia…look it up if it doesn’t automatically register. If that is the case, you are obviously in the wrong line of work. Predicated only by these assumptions and an utter lack of patience at this point, forgive me in advance for my candidness, but again – text messaging does not satisfy the ability to conduct a true assessment of the needs and priorities of the homeowner and myself – nor is it an excuse to regurgitate when I have asked to speak to you over the phone and you are showing a house.

I ask this with sincerity and genuine concern: Are you are scared of people?

Or do you think you are above them and are scared of the conflict they bring to your already fragile, insecure existence?

I understand – not every girl can be an Ice Princess. It takes a lot of skill to be that cold.

If you didn’t lack the utter decency or healthy capacity towards yourself and others, I’m sure you would agree with me when I say you can always find a way to speak to a current client. I’m positive the people you were trying to sell would gladly wait while you aided someone you have superficially brought gooey home-showing joy; pausing with glistening eyes and cooing at your every hospitable word. Had we spoken directly, I’m confident we could have found a much happier resolve for everyone involved. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been texting you at 10pm asking you why there was a cheap, second-hand, ill-fitting…wait for it…UNNECESSARY geriatric accessory blocking me from my bathtub.

Ironically, there is silicone plugging the holes from where the handyman opted for the one-size-fits-all model. Most girls that require services involving silicone at least get to pick a size and shape. As luck would have it, I did not inquire nor require a silicone-induced accessory that is the stuff of senior citizen legends. Yet without my consent and far before my golden years, I am bestowed a cosmetic and dysfunctional hack job from a man I can only assume is blind, that got his installation and interior design degree by calling a 1-800 number. Can you give me that number please so I can order the Bedazzler and matching cubic zirconia so I can put lipstick on the giant pig occupying my bathroom that so effortlessly afforded me? Or are things only ugly if they are on the outside of my home?  Please do not counter with the argument that beauty is on the inside, especially in this scenario. You need not apply for this debate if you have selective judgment, poor taste, and an inability to understand the shock and horror of coming home to an “As Seen On TV” dynamo addition to your bathroom. I begged you repeatedly to fix the situation. This silicone-plugged Golden Shower isn’t ruining your bathroom experience, and you shouldn’t get to make that decision for me, considering you are dead on the inside.  Thanks to you, I am left with a running joke that doubles as a disgusting, sexual innuendo. I’m supposed to feel clean when I get out of it. Appreciate your oversight there, too. I was fine with chapstick and no pig. I am baffled by why this is so difficult for you to understand.

Because of the level of difficulty you produce based on your phobias and unfortunate deficits, I attempted in the past to handle things directly with the homeowner and found that situation to be extremely inappropriate. Attempting to believe in magic, I have informed you multiple times hoping that at some point you would recover from your psychosis and do your job accordingly. Had you been more involved from the start and showed any sort of care in handling these situations, I do believe I wouldn’t continue to face issues with maintenance. I wouldn’t have become extremely weary of the home owner’s father and his very uncomfortable approach towards solving problems.  Considering his unsubtle and egregious attempts to enter my home – posing as an upstanding man, I can easily conclude after informing many people of his behavior (including my mother, father, and pastor), his motives were not pure. My worry and suspicions were agreed upon that he was probably trying to gain enough access by breaking things on purpose – with the goal of stealing my panties while breathing heavily, and disappearing into the shadows.

Besides the feelings of sheer terror and fear developed based on these absurdly uncomfortable notions, I think I am most upset that if you were not so peculiar and damaged, I most certainly wouldn’t have to rearrange my schedule every five seconds to accommodate strangers in my home that apparently cannot get the job done right the first time. Let’s reiterate – I’m giving you a pass for literally FAILING as a woman. I would just be satisfied if you did your job.

I am sick of asking for things to be done repeatedly, and I am extremely disappointed with the apathy and lack of attention you’ve continually displayed. Every renter should feel security and trust by having a property manager. Coming from a derelict environment where I did not possess this luxury, I am that much more frustrated with these circumstances.  I feel it is obvious that I, as a renter, am not going to rank as a higher priority, nor do the wages I pay garner the firm, or you as the individual property manager, a huge income boost. Obviously money is the only incentive because you are void of anything that would make you a decent human being.

But as bigger sales are closed in the residential sector of real estate, and more money with less fuss is made by creating home owners instead of perpetual thorns in your side, I would please ask that you appreciate the residual pennies you acquire here or there from a renter that is trying to be a hassle-free tenant. And above all else, have respect for the fact she is just trying to live in an apartment she barely sees – and enjoy it without having to wring out her toilet paper, sit in the dark, and climb through the silicone-clad golden shower door that was never necessary;  continuing to ask for the same issues to be corrected all while rearranging the day and missing out on the money that she can make – much like a huge close on a home. This is my home. And you are making it miserable, simply because you disregard how important my home is to me and disrespect every attempt I make to be comfortable in it, even when I am trying to make it so easy for you.

So enough.

I fixed my screen door. My trash gets taken out. My dog craps down the street. I put headphones in when I’m outside and pretty much every neighbor enjoys my company – or at least has no problem with me enough to involve you…not that they feel solace that you will resolve it anyway. Two volunteered to let me pee in their homes when I was unknowingly left without a bathroom for 24 hours. You remember that, right?  When you texted me about my floor being installed and neglected to mention I would not be able to use my bathroom? That was a day I was so busy that when asked by my mother how my day was, I said, “So busy I didn’t even have time to pee”. Then I came home and couldn’t pee. In my own home.

I said then, things happen. But we are past things happening now.

I fixed things. Please fix things, too.

The shower door needs to be gone – period.  This is for all of us – if you sell it, you will want it gone, the homeowner in Europe will want it gone, so get rid of it. Not one door…the entire thing. Get rid of it. The guy who put the floor in needs to pick up his arthritic braces, the flooding under my bathroom sink needs to be corked, and the electric, for the last time, needs to be rewired and safe. Also – if you need a spare key to my place, I have no problem providing that. I’m still not clear you have one because the only time you have been here, the handyman and you had to wait outside until I arrived. I was late for Jury Duty and I take my civic responsibilities very seriously. Not cool.

Please let me know and I will put one in an envelope and drop it where I drop my rent. I have made it clear my schedule requires long hours. So leaving the office or appointments with my clients is very taxing and costs me financially, not to mention I consider earning and keeping their respect my number one priority. The commission from earning and keeping their business is a bonus. If you would like lessons on how to do so, I would be glad to show you that as well. I’m all about paying it forward, especially if the end game will mean that nobody else has to deal with your insignificant treatment and disrespect.

There is a reason why my rent is always on the last day – it’s because I do not go anywhere besides what is important for my career, for the people that make my career possible – unless I physically have to. Like shoving my rent in a dropbox and hoping you will pay me the same respect. Understand this: I do not want to have to rearrange another day. The job needs to be completed and without interruption. Hopefully if this can be executed, I won’t have to bother you again and we can all go back to the land of Passive Aggressive and send each other politically correct Holiday Greeting cards that don’t say anything about God and just get on with life.

Let me know if you have any questions I can answer that would enable you to manage accordingly, and provide expedited solutions with exceptional care. I will be more than happy to do my part in making this easy for you. I would like to have this resolved no later than Friday, December 6th. That should be a reasonable timeframe for you and whomever you employ to observe the holidays and get back to work. I don’t want to write another email based on the fact that I am miffed by soaking wet toilet paper. Let that be the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.

If you think for some reason this email is a joke, I assure you, brevity comes when I am either extremely satisfied or employing extreme measures to get a happy resolve. I think of others first and always, but many wonder who I am thinking of first….when I’m quiet that is.  Just know I really like to be happy. And quiet.

Get rid of the Golden Shower, cork the leak, and fix the electric.

December 6th.

Thanks In Advance and Happy Holidays,

Your Favorite Gen-Y Renter