New on the home front, tonight I came home to find two lightbulbs out in the upstairs lamp. I managed to find one new bulb, and proceeded to replace one of the dead ones.
That was my first mistake.
The lightbulb immediately blew, and when I tried to take it back out, the majority of the glass came off in my hand. My friends who were present advised me to cut the circuit before using pliers to remove the remaining half-bulb. Unfortunately, the circuit box is in another flat. So I had to call the landlord.
The landlord, drunk and disbelieving, insisted on coming upstairs and seeing for himself. He had me turn the light on and off. He then said, "There's no way there's any electricity running through that." Quality logic, that. And then, refusing any advice, including my proffered oven mitt, he stuck his bare hand up to the remaining half-bulb.
As we all sat there in shock, the landlord fidgeted with the glass until a small crunch was heard and the landlord said calmly, "Oh. Blood." Several small pieces of glass fell to the floor.
aAAAaah.
He then (continuing to fidget) proclaimed, "Oh, there's your problem; it's in too tight." No. No it's not.
After I disposed of what glass he had gotten out, I then asked him again to go break the circuit so I could use pliers like I was planning to in the first place. Ignoring me, he immediately stuck his hand back in the bulb case. I offered the mitt again, only to be told, "There's no electricity there." I said, "No, for the glass..." having given up on him knowing how electricity works. His reply, "Oh, I don't mind the blood." We do, landlord, we do.
After several moments of all of us just waiting for him to slash open something important or electrocute himself, he did actually manage to get the bulb out. Thanking him, I tried to get him out of the house at that point, but he insisted on finding two new bulbs for us. I told him to call me if he found bulbs, but please not to worry about it and I'd take care of it in the morning.
Ten minutes later, he called back, saying he found bulbs. He then had the gall to explain to me how to safely insert new bulbs.
Augh.
Just...augh.
Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Friday, June 4, 2010
Taking the Meter
Normally, I'm rather fond of my current gas/electricity company. They are much less of a hassle than any I've dealt with before, in general, not least because they make online payment exceedingly simple. But occasionally they pull out all the idiot-stops.
Several months ago, I received a letter saying that our gas meter was overdue to be inspected or changed or whatever it is they actually do. So I called to make an appointment, figuring that they don't really need me to be around because gas meters go on the outside of the house anyway, but I may as well schedule it for when I'm here in case something is wrong. I work out a time with them, and they say they'll be here within a four hour window. Fine.
About two days before they are supposed to come, they call to reschedule. Something has come up and the earliest they can reschedule the meter checking to is nearly a month later. That's silly, but fine; I can handle the day they want to come, although I may have to get my housemate to be in charge of idiot control.
About a week later, though, they call back AGAIN. They have to reschedule again, for some unspecified reason, and their date is yet another month later (a few days ago now). Fine, fine, as long as it's after I'm back from vacation, you silly whatsis.
Finally, the date they are supposed to show up arrives. I am faced with a mild conundrum; I have a four hour window in which to expect them, and I haven't yet showered. So I figure, okay, I'll just take a quick shower and by the time I get out, either they will have called and I can call them back, or they won't be here yet. Besides, they're supposed to call fifteen minutes before they get here, so unless they call the second I get in, I won't miss them.
Predictably, however, the second I step out of the shower, the doorbell rings. Hello, Mr. Gas Meterman. I step out to say hello and ask if there is anything he needs from me, which as far as I know there shouldn't be. Instead, I am cut off by a rant about how important it is that I answer the phone, and what if he had rung the wrong doorbell and gotten someone who hadn't taken their meds today and came out shooting, because that happened once you know.
After a few seconds of staring at him in annoyance and mild disbelief, I interrupt the flow of vaguely accented words to apologize briefly and ask if there is anything he needs from me.
Yes, he says, he needs to get into the basement. Wait, what? No one said anything about that. So I ask, isn't the meter outside? Well, apparently he needs to get to some 'appliances', mainly the furnace, to make sure that everything is relit after he messes with it. Well, I say, I didn't know that, and I can't get into the basement because that's my landlord's apartment. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll go get my phone so I can call him.
Only I don't get to say all of that, because as soon as I say I can't let him in, he goes on another tirade about how I should have made arrangements for this and where is my landlord can he talk to him and... At this point, I cut him off midsentence, because I couldn't figure out what else to do. If you will excuse me for just a moment, I said, I will go call my landlord and find out about this. Please wait here. He didn't shut up long enough for me to leave, so I left him standing there talking to the door while I called my landlord.
Here comes the interesting part, because as soon as I told my landlord what was going on, he says: What's the guy's name? Unsure how it matters, I find out and tell him. He goes, let me talk to him.
Turns out, my landlord knows the guy, and well enough to be able to shut him up and get something useful out of him. When I get the phone back, the meter guy goes and works on the outside of the house, like I thought he would, and I am assured that everything else is normal and needs no interference.
What a lot of bother over nothing!
Several months ago, I received a letter saying that our gas meter was overdue to be inspected or changed or whatever it is they actually do. So I called to make an appointment, figuring that they don't really need me to be around because gas meters go on the outside of the house anyway, but I may as well schedule it for when I'm here in case something is wrong. I work out a time with them, and they say they'll be here within a four hour window. Fine.
About two days before they are supposed to come, they call to reschedule. Something has come up and the earliest they can reschedule the meter checking to is nearly a month later. That's silly, but fine; I can handle the day they want to come, although I may have to get my housemate to be in charge of idiot control.
About a week later, though, they call back AGAIN. They have to reschedule again, for some unspecified reason, and their date is yet another month later (a few days ago now). Fine, fine, as long as it's after I'm back from vacation, you silly whatsis.
Finally, the date they are supposed to show up arrives. I am faced with a mild conundrum; I have a four hour window in which to expect them, and I haven't yet showered. So I figure, okay, I'll just take a quick shower and by the time I get out, either they will have called and I can call them back, or they won't be here yet. Besides, they're supposed to call fifteen minutes before they get here, so unless they call the second I get in, I won't miss them.
Predictably, however, the second I step out of the shower, the doorbell rings. Hello, Mr. Gas Meterman. I step out to say hello and ask if there is anything he needs from me, which as far as I know there shouldn't be. Instead, I am cut off by a rant about how important it is that I answer the phone, and what if he had rung the wrong doorbell and gotten someone who hadn't taken their meds today and came out shooting, because that happened once you know.
After a few seconds of staring at him in annoyance and mild disbelief, I interrupt the flow of vaguely accented words to apologize briefly and ask if there is anything he needs from me.
Yes, he says, he needs to get into the basement. Wait, what? No one said anything about that. So I ask, isn't the meter outside? Well, apparently he needs to get to some 'appliances', mainly the furnace, to make sure that everything is relit after he messes with it. Well, I say, I didn't know that, and I can't get into the basement because that's my landlord's apartment. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll go get my phone so I can call him.
Only I don't get to say all of that, because as soon as I say I can't let him in, he goes on another tirade about how I should have made arrangements for this and where is my landlord can he talk to him and... At this point, I cut him off midsentence, because I couldn't figure out what else to do. If you will excuse me for just a moment, I said, I will go call my landlord and find out about this. Please wait here. He didn't shut up long enough for me to leave, so I left him standing there talking to the door while I called my landlord.
Here comes the interesting part, because as soon as I told my landlord what was going on, he says: What's the guy's name? Unsure how it matters, I find out and tell him. He goes, let me talk to him.
Turns out, my landlord knows the guy, and well enough to be able to shut him up and get something useful out of him. When I get the phone back, the meter guy goes and works on the outside of the house, like I thought he would, and I am assured that everything else is normal and needs no interference.
What a lot of bother over nothing!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Place
Long ago in a land far, far away, I lived in an apartment complex. This apartment complex was fairly nice, and I enjoyed most of my time there insofar as one enjoys an apartment per se. You know, except when the gate was broken or the roof falling in. But it was pretty good overall; I even had power when the rest of the city was out.
Telling people how to get there, however, was always interesting. The name of this apartment complex, you see, was The Place. While at first glance this seems clever and slightly metaphysical, in practice it caused much confusion and hassle.
Me: It's The Place, right ahead of you when you come down the road.
Potential visitor: Okay. What's it called?
Me: The Place.
PV: The Palace?
Me: No. The Place.
PV: What place?!
Me: That's what it's called!
Telling people how to get there, however, was always interesting. The name of this apartment complex, you see, was The Place. While at first glance this seems clever and slightly metaphysical, in practice it caused much confusion and hassle.
Me: It's The Place, right ahead of you when you come down the road.
Potential visitor: Okay. What's it called?
Me: The Place.
PV: The Palace?
Me: No. The Place.
PV: What place?!
Me: That's what it's called!
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