I am a good tenant. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the best damn tenant any landlord could ever wish for. I pay my rent on time, I send holiday cards (always religiously appropriate), AND I caulk the bathtub. I always leave the place cleaner than it was when I moved in and with nice window treatments. Really nice window treatments.
Seriously, if you are a landlord, you really do want me to live in your apartment. I don't throw wild parties. I don't have a cat. And I always drop off your packages to your front door.
Having been a homeowner myself--a tiny 100 year-old rehab on Chicago's north side--I know that pipes...pipes can be sensitive. One bottle of Drano can truly and terribly take down an entire ceiling. And I want to be a good tenant. The best tenant.
So it was I found myself calling my property manager a few months after moving into my new flat in London.
"Matthew, it's Krista. From number 43."
"Krista, my darling. Top o'the morning to you." Matthew was Irish. He probably did call me "darling" but he probably didn't wish me a cheerful top o'the morning. I'm totally making this part up, but I'm allowed to because 75% of my people come from the Emerald Isle.
"Matthew, hey, so I just wanted to double check. My shower drain is clogged and I am happy to fix this myself with some Liquid Plumber, but before I do, I wanted to see if that was okay or if you preferred to send a plumber out?" (See, this is exactly the type of tenant I am. Never just doing random stuff that could break shit.)
"Your shower drain is clogged? Why is your drain clogged?"
I would have thought this was obvious, but apparently not. "Well, I it's probably just hair and stuff, built up over time. The drain has been slow since I moved in. So what do you think? Liquid Plumber? Or human plumber?"
"Well, Krista, I don't normally take care of this sort of thing. But you can't use Liquid Plumber because that could damage the pipes, so you'll have to pay someone yourself to get it fixed."
"OK, so do you have any recommendations for me? I only just moved to London, so I'd need a recommendation."
"Ah, it's a recommendation you're after?"
Matthew. A bit thick, this one. "Well, yes. If I can't fix it myself, I'll need a recommendation."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. A long one. I started to repeat my question. But then he spoke. Quietly and authoritatively. Or as authoritatively as a 27-year-old property manager can speak.
"I've got a recommendation for ya, lass..."
"OK?"
"How 'bout you be getting a haircut?"
And then a few months later, he sent me his resume and cover letter and asked me for a job.
Seriously, if you are a landlord, you really do want me to live in your apartment. I don't throw wild parties. I don't have a cat. And I always drop off your packages to your front door.
Having been a homeowner myself--a tiny 100 year-old rehab on Chicago's north side--I know that pipes...pipes can be sensitive. One bottle of Drano can truly and terribly take down an entire ceiling. And I want to be a good tenant. The best tenant.
So it was I found myself calling my property manager a few months after moving into my new flat in London.
"Matthew, it's Krista. From number 43."
"Krista, my darling. Top o'the morning to you." Matthew was Irish. He probably did call me "darling" but he probably didn't wish me a cheerful top o'the morning. I'm totally making this part up, but I'm allowed to because 75% of my people come from the Emerald Isle.
"Matthew, hey, so I just wanted to double check. My shower drain is clogged and I am happy to fix this myself with some Liquid Plumber, but before I do, I wanted to see if that was okay or if you preferred to send a plumber out?" (See, this is exactly the type of tenant I am. Never just doing random stuff that could break shit.)
"Your shower drain is clogged? Why is your drain clogged?"
I would have thought this was obvious, but apparently not. "Well, I it's probably just hair and stuff, built up over time. The drain has been slow since I moved in. So what do you think? Liquid Plumber? Or human plumber?"
"Well, Krista, I don't normally take care of this sort of thing. But you can't use Liquid Plumber because that could damage the pipes, so you'll have to pay someone yourself to get it fixed."
"OK, so do you have any recommendations for me? I only just moved to London, so I'd need a recommendation."
"Ah, it's a recommendation you're after?"
Matthew. A bit thick, this one. "Well, yes. If I can't fix it myself, I'll need a recommendation."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. A long one. I started to repeat my question. But then he spoke. Quietly and authoritatively. Or as authoritatively as a 27-year-old property manager can speak.
"I've got a recommendation for ya, lass..."
"OK?"
"How 'bout you be getting a haircut?"
And then a few months later, he sent me his resume and cover letter and asked me for a job.
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