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muckefuckTook me a moment to place my déjà entendu just now. I finally got the number of the business manager at my new place and gave her a quick call to check on move-in restrictions. She answered the phone with just the four-digit street address. I had an immediate sinking feeling, which I pushed aside to engage with her. Despite the initial brusqueness, she seems a perfectly reasonable and accommodating woman. And the restrictions could hardly be less restrictive: between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m. Weekends fine; no scheduling necessary. (The building has a freight elevator for every thirty units.)
After I hung up, I recalled the only other time I'd heard a middle-aged woman answer the phone in such a fashion. It was the office of famous Hyde Park slumlords [guttural] & [guttural]. In their case, the digits weren't the address, they were the last four digits of the phone number. As one of my roommate said at the time, "It's like calling a drug dealer."
It will be so nice not to have an adverserial relationship with the public face of my residential complex. I think I may bring a little gift for her along to the inspection tomorrow, just to get started off on the right foot. Any suggestions?
After I hung up, I recalled the only other time I'd heard a middle-aged woman answer the phone in such a fashion. It was the office of famous Hyde Park slumlords [guttural] & [guttural]. In their case, the digits weren't the address, they were the last four digits of the phone number. As one of my roommate said at the time, "It's like calling a drug dealer."
It will be so nice not to have an adverserial relationship with the public face of my residential complex. I think I may bring a little gift for her along to the inspection tomorrow, just to get started off on the right foot. Any suggestions?