(The apartment complex I live in requires us to have renter’s insurance, and to provide a copy of our insurance documents for the main office to keep on file. I get home from work one day, and there’s a message on my answering machine from the office, saying they need a copy of my renter’s insurance policy. My policy runs from December to December, so I’m thinking they must have lost it, since I took it to them the previous December. I make a copy and take it to the office the next morning.)

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], and I got a call you needed this.”

(I hand the employee the copy of my policy.)

Employee: *looks at it* “No, we need next year’s.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Employee: “This one is expired.”

Me: “No, it’s not. See?” *points to dates at the top* “It expires in December. We’re in September. It’s still valid for three more months.”

Employee: “Well, we need next year’s.”

Me: “I don’t have next year’s, yet. It’s only September. I won’t renew it until December. I’ll bring it to you then.”

Employee: “Other residents have brought us next year’s.”

Me: “Well, sure. If their policies are a year like mine and they renewed in, say, July, then yes, it would cover until July of next year. But mine is good through December. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Employee: “You need to contact your insurance agent and get next year’s. We need it.”

Me: “My insurance agent will send me the renewal in November, like he has every year for the last eight years, and I will bring you the copy in December once I’ve paid it, like I have for the last eight years. I don’t know what else to tell you. You’ll get it in December. I can’t bring you something I don’t have.”

Employee: “I’ll have to contact the corporate office. You’re in violation of your lease agreement.”

Me: *as I turn to leave* “Oh, trust me; I’m not.”

(Never did hear anything from the corporate office. In December, when I renewed my policy I took a copy to the office, like I always do, every year. I did not see that employee.)

(I apply to rent an apartment, only to realize a few hours later that I foolishly based my ability to pay rent on my total income rather than how much I have left after paying my bills, meaning the apartments are actually around two hundred dollars out of my price range. The complex’s website lacks any contact information aside from the application, and I have no intention of making a half-hour drive just to say “my bad,” but it’s such a minor issue that I figure I can just tell them what happened when they call, if they call me back at all. They do, and the following conversation takes place.)

Employee: “Hi, we’re calling to let you know that you’ve been approved as a potential resident. Can you come in for an interview on this date?”

Me: “Actually, I calculated my funds wrong, so I can’t afford your apartments after all. Sorry.”

Employee: “Okay. Are you still interested?”

Me: “No, I can’t afford it.”

Employee: “And why do you say that?”

Me: “Because I have other bills to pay.”

Employee: “I see. Would you care to come in for an interview, anyway?”

Me: *pause* “I would not. Thanks for calling.”

(I have to say I admired her persistence. Her performance, not so much.)

I manage a large apartment complex. One Friday a resident calls and informs me that he has seen a couple of cockroaches in his home, in his kitchen. I inform him that our professional exterminator will be there this coming Wednesday, and he will go in and treat the apartment to get rid of any bugs, including roaches.

I arrive to work on the following Monday, before his apartment is to be exterminated. The same resident has left me a voicemail on my answering machine. He says that he made a pecan pie for the staff and myself, but he had to go to work before our office opened, and would I please go to his home to get it. He said he left it sitting out on the kitchen counter.

I think I’m going to tell him that I never got his message.

(My husband and I are students. We just moved into a new apartment yesterday with our baby. The front door and balcony door are at the same corner of the living room, and a small gate separates the balcony from the stairwell. Every apartment has matching keys for its front and balcony doors. We spend our first morning in the apartment unpacking, then go to the store for groceries and some storage shelves, leaving through the balcony door. Returning with cold groceries, and a baby screaming in hunger — and anger at being in the hot car again right after riding across the country in the backseat with no rear AC vents — we find that the balcony door does not open with our key, and the front door is still chained shut from the inside. I call the office.)

Me: “Hi, I’m locked out of my apartment, because the front door is chained shut from the inside, and whoever re-keyed the apartment didn’t re-key the balcony door. Now I’m locked outside with groceries and a screaming baby.”

Desk Guy: “Oh no! Why don’t you come down to the office and get the spare key so you can get inside to your child?”

(He continues to misunderstand the situation, thinking that my baby is inside instead of outside with me. He also doesn’t understand my concerns of whether the spare will work when my copy doesn’t, and insists that I come down for a spare key. I go get the key, and he tells me he’ll call the locksmith.)

Me: *taking the spare that’s just as shiny and new as mine* “Great. I guess I’ll return this after I break in through my open window.”

Desk Guy: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Because the front door that the key works on is chained shut from the inside, like I told you three times on the phone!”

(Sure enough, the key didn’t work. When the locksmith showed up, he found that the problem was that the door was shutting wrong due to maintenance never replacing the worn-out weather seal. We plan on being ruthless with the office about all the problems they’ve decided to let linger with the fact that the building will be demolished next year!)

(I submit a short list of things for maintenance to take care of in my apartment. The maintenance worker comes and starts going down the list, fixing things. All is well until the last item on the list.)

Maintenance: “It says there’s a problem with your washer?”

Me: “Yeah. When I use it, something smells like it’s burning.”

Maintenance: *sniffs* “I don’t smell anything.”

Me: “Well, yeah. I’m not doing laundry right now.”

Maintenance: “I can’t fix it if I can’t replicate the problem. You need to call me over when it smells.”

Me: “You guys have a two-day window; how am I supposed to time my laundry so that I’m actually washing when you get here?”

Maintenance: “Just call the office; tell them to send someone.”

Me: *if it’s in use, he can’t open it up to look in, anyway* “Can you take a look now? I’m a little concerned since, again, it smells like something is burning.”

Maintenance: “Nope, I don’t smell anything. I can’t help you. Was there anything else?”