I have a Ninja at my property

So we have this security guard that lives here that always refers to himself as Officer *insert name here. Everytime he calls he's like, "This is Officer ___ calling...." He's not a cop, he's the guy that stands by the door at the jewelry store and zip ties the criminals. Anyway. He's a tool. So this weekend we had ANOTHER attempted break in and guess who comes to the rescue and does a citizens arrest? I told him he was a ninja and that from now on we will call him Ninja ___.

You can't make this stuff up people.

When you live in an apartment, the office staff knows you only as an apartment number. Don't take it personally. *181 came in today, told me that her toilet has mold growing in it. First of all, porcelain is nonporous, it is impossible to grow mold in there. Upon further investigation, she told me it was up underneath the rim of the toilet bowl. Verbatim, "I cleaned it out and two weeks later it's black again." Ummm.....it's poo lady. You have to clean your toilet every week, or guess what? That's right. Poo. Now she's known in the office as UFO lady.-J

*some names and numbers have been changed to protect our butts

All in a days work......

It’s still early for me to be writing this, but I have to tell someone- and what better way to broadcast the weird things that take place here than to splatter them all over the internet?


So I walk in the door at 8:50am and there’s a post it on my desk. Apparently, I promised someone I’d have a large one bedroom to look at first thing Thursday morning.
I grabbed the keys and hiked my too tired ass up three flights of stairs to make sure the apt was ready. I get to the top and the door says 1213. WTF? Well, obviously the keys to 233 aren’t going to work here, so I run back to the office to get 1213’s key. Lisa stops me in the office to tell me that 1213’s apt was broken into last night and they had to switch out the doors, and 1213’s had been crow barred, so there’s no way to open it now without a crowbar. Fantastic. Of course it’s safe here- would you like to leave an application?-J

Up in Smoke...

Ahh, summer time. Where the underage set up shop by the pool to graze on nachos and Nattie Light and the Texas heat engulfs you like a bridezilla swallows an unruly + 1. Ironically though, in the Texas heat, when it rains it pours. Of course when it’s hot enough to spontaneously combust, that’s the day everybody and their mother in the tri-state area are looking for an apartment…in six months…when their lease expires. I showed for four hours straight. Not an exaggeration. The combination of walking and sweat concocted a chafe, the likes of which have never been seen. As I walked to show a two bedroom for prospect #42 of the day, my legs felt like twigs starting a fire…I was sending smoke signals. I walked like John Wayne for a week. No one said it’s easy being the Duke. -B

Laundry Day

I'm pretty good at not breaking character. I mean, seriously, there are so many ignorant, illiterate people that's butts graze my chairs on a regular basis that I've literally been trained to maintain my professionalism in the most dire circumstances. Test of my skills numero *1111 happened today. I was touring a nice couple that wanted a 3 bedroom, 1st floor apartment for an immediate move in. Well, I was told that the place would be ready for show by that friday night, so I never thought to follow up Saturday, which was my bad. Anyway, I drive them over there, and they are incredibly picky people. They were the type of people that asked all of the questions that I'm not allowed to answer about safety and demographics. They were the kind I would have to hard sell and then just wash my hands of. OF course they would be the couple that followed me in to 1111.
I get in there and tour as normal. I hear one of the maintenance guys banging around in the bathroom, so I tell them that he's just doing the final touches on the make ready and that the house keeper would be in first thing Monday morning to do the touch up. They don't seem to mind, and if they did, I didn't see the eye contact exchange so I just rolled with it. Then I take them over to the closet with the full sized washer and dryer. And it happened.
I opened the door and there on top of the dryer was a load of the maintenance guys clothes. Not towels or work related equipment, but boxers, tanks, socks, the works. And to garnish it all off, his Tide and fabric softener lay on top. AND the washer AND dryer were both running a full load. Embarassing. So I spit out the fastest lie I could muster. "They have to run an entire load through each machine to make sure they work" Annnd Boom. That's how you do it.-J

There is no going down from here.

I don't normally work on Saturdays, probably because I will just lock the office and watch the game. But today; I had no choice. So I dragged my hungover butt in the door about 10minutes til 10am. I knew it was going to be busy, and I knew that the jager from last night was probably still on my breath. And I was right on both accounts. I get in and get situated and before I can get up to grab a coffee, the first propect walks in the door; albeit looking worse than I do. My first thought is, "What kind of hungover person tours apartments in 100 degree heat?" Probably the same type of person that goes to work hungover to tour aparmtents in 100 degree heat. The n I notice he's got his breakfast in tow. This should be interesting. He plops down at my desk and starts chowing down- all while asking for information on my one bedroom apartments. Really? With a full mouth of egg and cheese? Classy. And here I am trying not to laugh when the guy gags and actually THROWS up on my desk. Throws up. Doesn't get up and run to the bathroom, doesn't even really grab for his mouth, he just straight vomited up his Egg McMuffin all over my cherry wood desk. Happy Saturday folks. Only here. So of course I grab some paper towels to let HIM clean it up and he just apologizes and stares at me for a second..and then LEAVES. Fantastic start to the day. I kind of wish that I didn't lead off with that awesome story, because it kind of dilutes the power of the rest of my days experiences.-J

They can't fire us for it, but they damned sure won't promote us because of it.

This will not be a nostalgic account of the many things I love about my job. Leasing is not for the weak. You are essentially a turd polisher. Glossing up and decorating something that you know very well is in fact; still a turd. Yet it is our duty--day after day, to convince the general public that I have the best poop on the block. The longer you are in this industry, the funnier your stories get. You are in the middle of people's lives, you know who they are screwing, how often they take out their trash, who pays their bills on time. It's a helluva position to be in, but it's gotta be one of the funniest jobs I've ever had. Here is a running account of the day in the life of a leasing agent.-J&B