I work for a company with mentally challenged clients. They can do very basic things and hold simple jobs but will be forever dependent on government support financially. While not all clients achieve it, our goal is that they get their own apartments.

One of my clients shows great progress in responsibility and self-care and will move on from his housing group to his own place. Don’t worry; we don’t throw them out. We rent the place — fully furnished — and we check up on them regularly. Usually, I pick up the keys on my own, but this time, my client goes with me to the renting office.

Me: “Hello, I’m here to pick up the keys for [address].”

The receptionist is one I’ve never seen before.

Receptionist: “Oh, hello. I have them ready for you!”

She gets the keys and then asks, hesitating:

Receptionist: “Is your name [Company]?”

Me: “Haha, no, that’s the company I work for. Here is my work ID. We just rent the place, but my client here is going to live in it.”

Receptionist: “Oh, will he? Well then, I must discuss this with Mister personally.” *Turns to my client* “Sir, congratulations on your new home! You must be very excited. Let me check the keys for you before I hand them over.”

She checks the keys with the keys listed and then starts explaining things and giving instructions. She doesn’t dumb things down, but she’s explaining them in a way my client can easily understand. 

Receptionist: “Let’s make it official, then. Please sign here to accept the keys.” *Points to an empty piece of the paper* “And now I also need a signature from [Company].” *Points to the “sign here” piece* “Well, sir, congratulations again! And if there is anything wrong, don’t hesitate to contact us or [Company]. And here is a little gift from [Renting Office]. Do you have any more questions?”

My client shakes his head and we say goodbye. When we are outside: 

Me: “Well? What did you get?”

Client: *Visibly happy* “A tea towel! I have my own tea towel! I never had my own tea towel before! And she called me ‘sir’!”

Me: “Yes, she was nice, wasn’t she? Well, now you can invite me for a drink!”

Client: “And I’ll use my new tea towel!”

The next time I see the receptionist, I’ve got to thank her for making my client feel so special.

Related:
A Most Receptive Receptionist
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 20
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 19
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 18
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 17

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I was screwed out of my inheritance on my dad’s side. His sister’s husband got my grandfather to rewrite his will, writing me out of it on the assumption that I would inherit a lot of land from my mom’s side. A few years later, my mom’s side tried the same thing under the assumption I had gotten land from my dad’s side. When my dad died, my stepmother took everything, only giving me the part of his life insurance that was legally designated as mine.

In order to combat anyone trying this with me again, my mother put my name on every last bit of property she wanted me to inherit as soon as she could rather than waiting until the last minute, just in case of sudden death. As such, anything my mother owns, I also own.

Most of this land has rental properties on it and Mom is… not the best landlord. She’s not a slumlord, but that’s about the kindest thing I can say about her on it.

Mom: “The renter over on [property] is moving in a couple of months when their lease is up.”

Me: “Cool. How’s the house look?”

Mom: “We did a walk-through a few months back and it looks good. It’s very clean.”

Me: “Awesome. Will you have enough to give them back their cleaning deposit? I can chip in a little if you don’t.”

Mom: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a reason to keep it.”

Me: “…what?”

Mom: “I’m not giving it back. Why would I do that? I’ll just make up an excuse to keep it.”

Me: “Weren’t you wondering why you only get bad renters just last week? If they leave the place spotless, but you say, ‘Oh, look, a tiny smudge on this window. I’m keeping everything, you slobs,’ no decent person will want to rent from you!”

Mom: “Well, they need to clean it to my standards!”

I let it go, but I kept a mental note of when the renter would move out. They did, and the house sat empty for a while.

One night, I went onto the property and proceeded to randomly spray paint the front door, the back door, and one of the windows. There was no design, just a few lines — just enough to make Mom blow through that entire cleaning deposit she had decided she needed to keep.

She didn’t once think it was a former renter, just some a**hole teens somewhere on the street.

Related:
(Stray) Painting All Landlords In A Bad Light

My mother owns a couple of apartments that she rents as a complement of income and in preparation for retirement.

Some of them she manages fully directly, but one has her go through a society. There were several conflicts, including the people in charge of finding renters (mostly among students) trying to pressure my mother into reducing the rent amount (already a bit below market) to make finding customers easier, but in truth keeping the same price and pocketing the difference. So, my mother retook the responsibility of finding, choosing, and negotiating with potential and current renters without issue.

This story is part of why she wishes she could also get rid of [Society] in its role as the sole and irremovable building manager. Normally, they are chosen by a vote among the owners, but not in this case, as [Society] managed to also be the one voting in the name of the owners using the full breadth of their service, guaranteeing an easy and systematic majority.

One morning in late January, my mother received a rather aggressive letter telling her that she was late in paying the monthly charge for the service, due on the first. The letter said to contact a specific number to negotiate the late fees and payment.

She checked that the letter was genuine — it had indeed been sent from a [Society]-owned mailing address — that the number was not a trap, and also that she had paid on time. Then, she gathered the proof of having paid and then called.

After a bit of a wait, the person on the other end told her that despite his function, it was not him that dealt with this part and to contact the accountant, whose number she already had.

So, she did. The accountant was on vacation, and the assistant that answered told my mother that it was another service that handled the charges and gave her the number.

After a greater bit of wait for an answer, she got through to a woman who said that handling all the cheques — [Society] insist on payment by cheque — at the same time was hard, that there was a renewal in the service this trimester, and that she sent the letter to everybody just in case. But there had been a big internal courier arrival this morning, and if my mother’s payment was among those, they would waive the late fees.

There was no excuse for wasting time, no acknowledgment of this being their own mistake, no resolution, and no promise to correct the source of the mistake.

I’ll be honest I’m not sure if I dealt with this right. We rent out houses to lower-income groups, and the waiting list is immense. I get a call from a man who is a client of an organization that rents one of our homes. Technically, he’s not our client; the organization he’s a client of is our client. 

Client: “I want to know if my house number could be changed.”

Me: “Your house number? Let’s see what we can do about that. Did the plate with the number get damaged?”

Client: “No, it’s fine. But I want it to be changed.”

Me: “I’m not sure I understand just yet, but let’s get your details first. What is the address you’re renting from us?”

Client: “It’s [Street], number 666.”

Me: “I see… and I think I understand what you mean now. But the contract is not on your name, am I seeing this right?”

Client: “No, it’s in [Organization]’s. But I can’t live here, not with that number.”

Me: “Well… weren’t you told of the house number before you got the key?”

Client: “Yes, but I wasn’t allowed to refuse. I was homeless and all… but I just can’t stay here.”

Me: “Well, house numbers are assigned by City Hall, not by us.”

Client: “I went there and they told me to go to you. They told me you could change it.”

Me: “That’s odd… but I can let you know that our company won’t change a house number that’s existed since the seventies. We can’t just make up a number and put that instead for you.”

Client: “But you don’t understand! I can’t live under that number!”

Me: “I do understand, but this is something that will not be changed. If you knew this beforehand but couldn’t refuse, then it’s not something we are responsible for.”

Client: “So, you’re saying my only option is to move out?”

Me: “If you don’t want that house number, then I’m afraid that is the only option, because we won’t change that number.”

Client: “Well… thanks for nothing!” *Hangs up*

I tried to show empathy, but I was just too amazed to put myself into this man’s shoes.

I am a receptionist at an affordable housing property management company. We get calls all the time from people who are interested in applying for one of our properties, so it’s my job to answer these calls and direct the people to where they can fill out an application. Today, I receive a call from an older lady.

Me: “Good morning, [Company], how can I help you?”

Caller: “I’m interested in your properties. Tell me about them.”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am. You can look up all of our properties at [Website] and apply directly online.”

Caller: “I don’t use a computer.”

Me: “That’s okay, you can also swing by our office at [address] and pick up a physical application. All of our properties and their amenities are listed there, as well.”

Caller: “I don’t drive. Why can’t you tell me about the properties over the phone?”

Me: “Ma’am, with all due respect, we have over forty properties in our city alone. If you have a specific place you’re interested in—”

Caller: *Click*