( And no Serenity jokes PLEASE!)
Ohhh what a day so far.
I am constantly ordering expensive equipment over the net for my various hobbies (i.e. computers, camera, atronomical supplies). I work for a living so the packages end up having to get left at the apartment office.
So I am constantly having to go into the office in the mornings, late evenings or weekend to pick them up. Overall it works convieniently.
Fri when I get home I see the UPS sticker on my door. Cool new astronomical camera I ordered and have been waiting for. Perfect timing as I can take it out to my land this weekend and give it a try.
So I sleep late enough Sat morning so that the Apt office has time to open up. I get up, grab a quick shower and shave, start the coffee brewing, and run down to the office to quickly pick up my package.
Now you got to understand some stuff about my apartments. Back in early 2000 when I first moved there, they were pretty nice. Near major arteries and the DFW airport, they were probably 50% Airline employees (including stewardess'). After 9/11 Things started going downhill fast. All the Airline people moved out, they started lowering rent, maintainence went undone, etc.... Now there are kinda creepy people living here. Kinda thuggy, and the management team seems to rotate out every 6 months. There is this one loser chick in particular. She literally has gang looking tattos running up both arms from the knuckles to her elbows. She is sullen, and borderline rude every time I have to deal with her. So I wince we I see its her I have to deal with this morning. But whatever.
So I come into the office with UPS slip in hand and she's in the back office on the phone. No problem. I wait. I decide to walk across the hall and poke my head in so she knows I'm there. I smile and wave my UPS slip. She glares back "I WILL BE WITH YOU IN A MOMENT!". I count to 5.. "I'm just letting you know I'm here in case you didn't hear me come in." I step back into the outer office and wait. And wait. I can tell from the content and tone of the call it certainly isn't a customer. Its a girlfriend, boyfriend, or a coworker. Certainly no one she couldn't put on hold for a second. I'm starting to get annoyed.
So I wait. Finally she gets off the phone. And ... no sooner, the phone rings again and she picks it back up. I blink a couple of times. I think surely she is about to tell them to hold for second, but I stand incredulous as she goes on at least another 5 minutes. I popback in the doorway and give her a WTF look. And she is on a CELL PHONE! I mean she could just walk over with the cell phone and still get my package for me. She glares at me again "SIR I TOLD YOU YOU JUST GONNA HAVE TO WAIT!" She literally goes back to her conversation while staring at me.
The corner of my left eye twitches almost imperceptively.
I haven't had my coffee yet this morning. Maybe my judgement is off, but I'm getting pissed off enough now that I'm starting to think this is going to be trouble. I'm trying to keep my cool but I'm getting that wierd ice water feeling down the middle of my back and my hands feel like they are giving off steam as they begin to tremble. I stand there like a dope for another 5 minute and I'm just about to say phookit and walk of to the closet and pick up my own package and leave the slip.
She finally gets off the phone walk back to the outer office...just slow enough so she can show me she can't be rushed. She sighs..."YES?"
I take a slow steady breath and hand her my UPS slip "I have a package I need to pick up".
She looks at it like I handed her a dead rodent. Then squares off on me and says "Well, I'll need to see your drivers license."
I blink again. "What?" I'm standing there in gym shorts a t-shirt and flip-flops. She knows I don't have my drivers license. She knows very well.
You have to understand I've been living at these apartments far 10 years come October. If you've never enoyed Apt living, apartment years are like dog years. Ten years is a freakin eternity to have lived a single place. I have picked up packages from this particular delicate flower at least half a dozen times. She knows exactly who I am. I have never been forced to go get my drivers license. The apartment manager herself got me a package herself not two days before and didn't force me to provide a drivers license. She doesn't need to see my drivers license, she needs to show I can't rush her off her phone calls with her girlfriends.
I explain all this to her in no uncertain terms and possibly quite colorful language, all the while taking the time to admire her fine home-made tattoos.
So now its game time! She starts shrieking at me that she doesn't have to give me my package unless I can show her my drivers license, and I'm being rude
(yes, I'm being rude...get that part?)
And I need to get off this property becasue she doesn't have to put up with someone being rude to her blah blah blah blah blah.
I just turned around and started for the door. Meanwhile muttering over my shoulder that I couldn't believe she made me stand there and wait 25 minutes just to pull this chickensh!ite crap blah blah blah blah.
Yeah, I probably slammed the door on my way out.
I go back to my apartment. I go up stairs. I find my wallet. I get my drivers license. I go back to the office. I lay the drivers license and the UPS slip on the desk in front of her as she sat there glaring at me, arms crossed.
"Here is my drivers license. Here is my UPS slip. I want...my package.....please."
"NO."
"
What?" The sound of that word was strange coming out of my mouth. It didn't even sound like me. At this point it was like I was detached, watching all this from a far away place, and the sound of that word came echoing down to me from somewhere down a long dark coridor. It was pronounced slow and careful, and dripped with portent that should have scared the crap out of her if she had half a brain.
She leans forward, glaring, arms still crossed: "I'm not going to give you your package. You were rude to me. You were mean to me. You slammed that door on your way out. I'm not going to put up with that. I'm not going to give you your package. I want you to leave this office now or I'm calling the cops!"
I pickup my drivers license and UPS slip. "Here is my drivers license. Here is my UPS slip. I want you to get up off your fat prettythang, go over to that Frekin
closet, and give me my freakin property BEOTCH!"
"Alright I told you to get out of this office so I'm calling 911!!!!!!"
At this point, without morning coffee, with all my cool and aplum blown, I quickly try and review my available options:
Option A: I could grab her by the throat with one hand, pull the receiver away with the other and start bashing her in the head. I could quickly work my way through the epidermal layer, cranium, frontal lobe, brain stem...once I had cleared a path to the esophogus, I could reach down, find her still beating heart, rip it out, lay it on the day planner on the desk and decorate it with the yellow daisy sitting in the glass vase by the phone. While I wistfully considered that for a split second, while being justified, and probably satisfying, it would not ultimately be wise.
Option B: I could simply walk past her and get my package out of the closet. I know right where it would be. The same place all my packages have been for the last 10 years. How could I possibly be in the wrong simply to get my own property. But I know...I know as sure as grass is green, she would do something stupid like lay a hand on me to stop me. And within seconds we would be back at option A.
Option C: I could simply sit down and tell her to go ahead and call the cops. I could wait until they arrive and have her explain again why she will not hand over my lawful property as I sit there with photo id and UPS slip. (I should have done this but I was so pissed at this point I didn't think of it. I also think if I had stayed there any longer things would just have gotten further out of control.)
Option D: I could simply leave. I could wait until I could contact the manager and hopefully get the rightful resolution.
So I gritted my teeth and chose option D. I was ordered to leave the premisis so I did. It was the only way I could be sure that I was staying in the letter of the law so that all the onous was on her. I did explain to her on the way out that this was not over, only begining and I would do everything I humanly could to make sure the manager of that office terminates her with cause. Its certainly not as ego satisfying as option A but I guess I'm getting overly cautious in my old age.
I had been back at my apartment no more than 5 minutes when the cops arrived.....
