I can’t seem to catch a break.
I have already bitched before about how I’m going on month THREE of open units. What that means is every available moment I have when I am not at work is spent negotiating showings or dealing with move out stuff or cleaning. My weekends are not my own. I have been trying to go to Portland for three months and now I have to miss Kerrianne’s birthday weekend. (WAH!)
My social life is taking a severe beating. I suppose it is good that I am not dating? That doesn’t really comfort me.
Add to that the fact that so many potential tenants will agree to a time and then NOT SHOW UP OR CALL. This is rude. Very rude. And flaky. I do not like rude or flaky. It makes me want to kick things. Doesn’t anyone have manners anymore? Or is it a lost art much like thank you notes?
One unit has been open since the end of April. I am currently offering June free if someone FOR THE LOVE OF GOD will just move in already. The other unit smells of cat piss. It’s not the current tenant’s fault. Before my time there was apparently a woman who resided in that unit who let her cat use the entire apartment as a litter box. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little just typing that. That is disgusting. So, you can imagine that despite changing the carpets, the carpet pads and doing deep cleanings, the scent lingers. This is also the neighboring unit to the Music Man which we all know by now means someone deaf or incredibly patient or never home is the only kind of tenant that will be happy there.
I did rent one basement-style unit to the very first person I showed it to. I wasn’t even advertising it but she was walking by and then BAM she loved it. I totally thought it was going to be the hardest to rent. I mean it has tile walls in most of the rooms. TILE. The place is like a giant bathroom. But whatever. She liked it and it’s rented and that is one I can cross off my checklist.
Last night around 10pm I received notice from the third tenant (actually fourth since I have technically had that one unit open since May). That’s when I knew that Portland was just a pipe dream and that my weekend would include a lot of sitting around waiting for people to call, putting on my game face, and shmoozing emo hipsters. And maybe some praying. Hey, it can’t hurt.
I am really reconsidering my decision to steer clear of the booze.