Last night a little after 10:00pm my cell phone vibrated. I was “otherwise occupied” and didn’t answer it. But then about 10 minutes later, the land line rang. That meant it was a tenant. So I made myself answer it.
A tenant on the bottom floor was complaining about the noise level in the apartment above her and asked if I could do something about it. Begrudgingly, I put on a bra and presentable clothing and marched down to the first floor. As I approached I could hear the music and two people talking loudly. That’s what happens when the volume is up, you’re forced to turn up your talking. I knocked. No response. I knocked harder. Still, no response. I could hear them talking to each other. Maybe they couldn’t hear me over the music? I gave them the benefit of the doubt. So, I knocked even harder. So hard in fact that my knuckles hurt a bit. A male voice came close to the door and said, “Is the music too loud for you then?” And I answered, “Yes, it is.” And he answered something snarky back or maybe it was not snarky but he had a slight accent which made it difficult for me to surmise tone. He never opened the door. And as far as I know, only a single female resides in that unit. So who the fuck is this guy?
I walked about 5 steps away and paused. The music and their voices remained at the same level. I waited some more and then walked back, this time knocking with fervor and announcing, “This is the manager. Please open the door.” I felt like the police. It was ridiculous. The across the hall neighbor opened his door sleepily and inquired if everything was alright. I shooed him away, apologizing for disturbing him. Finally, the tenant answers holding an ice cube in a paper towel.
Why? I don’t know.
“Hey, can you turn your music down. It’s hard for the tenant under you to sleep. Maybe your speakers are on the ground?” She looked at me a bit dazed and as if she was trying not to be pissed in front of the management, “Yeah. I’m sorry to get you involved. You can tell them they can just come up here and ask. There’s no need to call you.”
I tried to smooth it over because well, try as I might to be Big Boss Manager here, I also want to create some harmony. That is wishful thinking. There are grown adults living together under one roof who seem incapable of being direct with one another. This pisses me off. Not because I have to put on a bra and deal with it but because we are all grown ups and yet it’s evident we have no skill set to manage such relationships.
The Fella left for home and as he exited the building he texted me that the music and talking was still pretty loud from the apartment. I didn’t go back down there but it did anger me. Why can’t people be considerate? What in the hell is so damn difficult with that?
Later, laying in bed trying to let the whole situation go, I heard loud voices and the front door slam. It was a windy night and there were a lot of sirens but through my open window I could make out the tenant, her accent-laden friend and the guy who lives below me talking outside and smoking. She was complaining about the neighbor not coming directly to her. I could make out that much. A siren blared in the distance and the accent guy jokingly said, “Uh oh! They are coming for us!”
I get people need to vent and bitch when they are pissed or feel caught or wronged or whatever. I get it. But it’s petty bullshit and I don’t have the energy for it. I just shut my window and tried to turn off my thoughts so I could sleep.
“Are you wanting inspiration/You spill your secrets on me/Then you tell me with a whisper/Of things that will never be./Do you hear me breathing? /Does it make you want to scream?/Did you ever like a bad dream?/Sometimes life is obscene./My angels, my devils, my thorn in my pride./Lover cover me with your sleep/Let your love light shine/Lover cover me with a good dream/Let your love light shine. . .” -Thorn in My Pride, Black Crows