( 9:29 AM ) teahouse
Flexing My Muscles
I stopped by my apartment manager's office yesterday. Miss Manager is Mr. Landlord's hired bulldog. She's the one I have to deal with whenever problems arise. Mr. Landlord issues pronouncements from above, always keeping his hands clean and never getting involved.
Miss Manager is very nice superficially, but we're not sure if she's just playing good cop to Mr. Landlord's bad cop.
She says things like, "Ohh, we'll try my best to get you your money back. I don't know what the insurance company will say..they'll want to investigate it. We'll file the claim and try our best..." when we both know that he's responsible, regardless of whether his insurance company decides to pay him back.
During our conversation I brought up casually, "So if you need to reach me about these reimbursements, call me at work. I'm an attorney, and..hey, did you know that my firm does work for [insert name of famous billionaire real estate mogul here]?"
She kept smiling, but her face turned a little white. "Oh. I didn't know you were a lawyer.." she said.
Three hours later, I got a call from her at work. "Mr. Landlord wanted you to know that you shouldn't worry about your losses. He is happy to reimburse you for whatever it cost you to replace your bedding and personal possessions."
That's the first time that I've actually felt FEAR from someone upon finding out what I do for a living (even though my friends know I'm the most conflict-averse person I know).
It felt kind of good.
#
0 comments
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
|
|
