Despite the fact that I’m still living in my apartment, the management company had decided it would be a great idea to go ahead and show it. I get that in order to maximize the amount of rent they’ll be getting, they want to rent it out as soon as possible.
Since I’m in the process of moving, it’s kind of a given that we’re also in the process of, you know, PACKING.
I got a voicemail today from the girl that shows the apartments. She pronounces her name Curry-Un. Curry-Un had showed the apartment on Monday at 5:30 pm. She called around 3:30 to let me know. I was at work, so it wasn’t like I could leave to go home and clean up. The General packed the dogs in the car and left before they got here, which is especially nice considering I only have one dog on my lease. The apartment, in my opinion, looked great! The kitchen and bathroom were pretty much spotless, the carpets had been vacuumed, and the bed was even made.
Curry-Un, however, was a bit snotty in her voicemail telling me she had another showing coming up on Monday at 1:00 and complaining about the BOXES EVERYWHERE. The boxes are stacked as neatly as possible against walls. Because, let me reiterate – WE’RE MOVING. I wanted to call her back to tell her she was an absolute fucking moron and she could shove her stupid Minnesota accent up her gaping asshole. Then I remembered she’s probably going to be the person in charge of dictating how much of my deposit I get back.
I called her back. I left a disgustingly sweet voicemail confirming the future apartment showing and also telling her to give me a call back to let me know whatever it is that I need to clean before the next showing.I get they want to make money, but I also need to know where the hell she wants me to put all of my possessions in the meantime.