I'm the Law Round These Parts

My job as apartment manager has been easy for the past few months. I didn't get any maintenance calls in October or November and only a few minor issues arose this month. But of course, this evening, as my bags are packed for my trip to family tomorrow, a water heater exploded, flooding a unit, the electricity is mysteriously malfunctioning in another apartment, and I received a complaint about the cleanliness of the laundry room. But I'm leaving regardless and hope the management company I work for can sort through the mess while I'm away.

I mentioned to one of my tenants tonight that I'd be out of town for over a week. He is a middle aged gentlemen and father to two young children. When he heard I'd be away he frowned. "Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Do you think the apartments will be safe while you're gone?"

Apparently he has the idea that I sit out in the courtyard with a shotgun every night, guarding all my beloved tenants. I assured him that the complex would be just as safe as it is when I'm here. He didn't look convinced.
"I'm sure somebody from the management company will be coming by to see how things are doing," I lied, hoping this would help him sleep better.

I do feel like a parent figure sometimes to these people. I got a call last week from a 40 year old man asking me to re-light his pilot light AGAIN. Apparently he couldn't remember where it was. When I entered his apartment I found it full of gas and was surprised he hadn't already died of asphyxiation. "Please look inside your stove and see where the pilot light is so I don't have to light it again," I told him yet again. I'm sure he won't. Not with handy, dandy Hollywood around.

Another time a male resident complained that there was a "suspicious looking stranger" in the parking garage talking on a cell phone. It was 11:30 at night so I very cautiously went down to the garage to check things out. It turns out the "stranger" was one of our long-time tenants returning from work. The complainer wouldn't know this since he'd only lived in our building for a week. I returned upstairs and assured the concerned resident that we have many tenants and he would soon get used to seeing them around the complex.

Then there are the unfailing ditzes of the complex. One sweet gal locks herself out almost every time she goes to get her mail. She used to come knocking at my door and calling my cell at all hours, day and night, and despite my pleadings with her to make a copy of her key, she kept forgetting. Technically, I'm supposed to have her call a locksmith if it's after hours but I'm a softie. Finally at an 11 p.m. knocking last month, I sent my husband, Spike to the door. He snapped at her in his curt, lawyer way about how we were going to start charging her to open her door. We haven't heard from her since.

I'll miss all my novelty-sized children while I'm away. Ha. No I won't. Sayonara, suckers!