Fuck that radiator
So I had mentioned in my previous entry, colorfully titled, "Fuck that ceiling," that before I left to go home to Buffalo last week, I noticed that my ceiling was leaking. Because it was 8AM on a Saturday morning, and because I had an 11AM flight to catch, there was nothing I could do about it.
Since the management company that owns my apartment building is closed on Saturday, but open on Sunday (if you can call having one retarded woman in the office "open"), so I called from home and told her the situation.
Me: So, what are you going to do about it?
Her: Well, I'm gonna write out a support ticket and someone will get around to it next week.
Me: Are you out of your mind? This is an emergency. This is what we have Supers for!
Her: Well, is it a big leak?
Me: I told you that I'm not there to check on it. I don't know if it's gotten worse, if it's stopped, if the ceiling has fallen in—I have no idea. That's why you need to send someone TODAY to check on it. I have a $3,000 living room set. Are you guys going to pay for it if it gets ruined?
Her: Ummmmm, let me try to get ahold of someone.
Me: Are you going to call me back?
I give her an hour and a half. No phone call. The problem with people is that they give up and accept things for what they are. Donna said that they won't fix the leak today. Oh well. I say NO to that. I pay this company an ungodly amount of money in rent. You are going to fix this shit. NOW.
So I call her back. She proceeds to tell me that the Super said that there are no apartments above me. Call me crazy, but I don't think that I need to tell the people who OWN THE BUILDING I live in that there is an ENTIRE FLOOR of apartments above me. I told her that there is indeed an apartment above me, this is where the leak is coming from, and we need to figure out whether or not the apartment above me is vacant or occupied.
If it's occupied, we can assume that the people living there will put down a towel, put down a pot, whatever, and the leak will be more contained than if the apartment is vacant, where the leak will go untreated. On the third phone call, Donna figures out that the apartment above me is, in fact, vacant. Awesome.
"YOU NEED TO SEND SOMEONE OUT THERE TO FIX IT TODAY," I said/shouted.
So they send someone out and apparently they fix it, but they can't get into my apartment to see how much (if any) damage has been done before the leaky radiator was fixed because when they changed the locks when I moved in, they didn't make a new set for themselves.
Not wanting to be greeted with a tidal wave when I opened the door to my apartment a week later, I overnighted my keys to my friend Scott and asked him to check in on the apartment before he went home to Boston for Thanksgiving.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he called me and told me everything was fine.
So I get home on Sunday night and I get a letter from the management company, stating that I am delinquent in my rent for the month of November, even though they cashed the goddamned check on November 2. Then, I come home from work on Monday and the ceiling in the kitchen is leaking.
Honestly, renting in New York makes me want to kill myself. Last year, I spent over $15,000 in rent. This year, I will pay $20,000. And believe me, this is not money I have to spend. This is $35,000 in two years down the toilet, to some douchebag landlord who I have to beg to fix a leaky roof.
Realty company, you are so fucking dead.