So, Chris and I moved to a new apartment back in February. We had gone to look at our new place with a delightful half-wit I will not name here. Actually, what the hell--her name is Heidi.
Heidi showed us around the apartment, which was several steps above our dingy basement apartment in Uptown. This evaluation is based on the fact that the new apartment was not in the basement, did not have non-ornamental exposed piping, and was larger than a refrigerator box. We really liked the apartment, except for one tiny thing: It did not have a dishwasher. We brought this up to Heidi, who immediately said that she could get us a dishwasher, and that management would never let something like a dishwasher get in the way of having us sign a new lease. So, we were optimistic. Who wouldn't have been?
How foolish we were.
We went in to sign the lease a few days later after again being reassured that they'd be able to put in a dishwasher, "no problem". Before we put pen to paper, I asked about the dishwasher. Heidi rolled her eyes and said, "Oh! I forgot to ask! But seriously, it won't be a problem."
I hesitated. "This is a pretty big deal. We are thinking this is the apartment we'll be in for a few years and we really, really need a dishwasher. It's really important to us."
Heidi reassured us again, this time even going as far as to say, "Here, let me call my manager so you'll be hearing it from someone else, too." She got on the phone, put it on speaker, and called her manager, who said it shouldn't be a problem. At this point, what would you have assumed about this? We assumed we were getting a dishwasher. We signed the lease.
On the way back to our old place, I commented that I thought maybe we should have had them put something about the dishwasher in writing. Chris, being British and less jaded than I, said he thought it would all work out. I felt comforted. We were getting our dishwasher!
A few days later, after we'd planned for the movers to come, changed out address, and told everyone about the move, Heidi called me at work. She asked if we were excited to get moved in. I said, "Yes, very!" There was a pause on the other end. "...even if you don't have a dishwasher?" she asked, verbally cowering in the corner.
It turns out that, actually, management decided that, actually, they 'couldn't sacrifice cabinet space for a dishwasher'. So, no dishwasher. No dishwasher at all. No chance.
Fast forward through a not-so-polite conversation between Heidi and I, and then one between Chris and Heidi, and then a few months. Mary, my best friend of 23 years, and her boyfriend, Nate, ended up moving into the apartment across the hall. As they were moving in, Chris and I came over to marvel in the fact that their apartment is an exact replica of ours...except for one thing. THEY HAD A DISHWASHER! Their kitchen was exactly the same, except that they had half the cabinet space and 100% MORE DISHWASHER!
Chris and I made an attempt to talk to Christopherson management about this, but were again denied. We lived with it and considered a lack of dishwasher a kind of bourgeoisie problem. But now, we're having a kid. A sticky, messy, lovely kid who will enter this world as a baby, and will sometimes need bottles. And yes, I'm aware that people washed bottles by hand before dishwashers were invented. People also got small pox and washed their petticoats on rocks in the river before we figured out we didn't have to do that stuff.
In any case, I decided to wait until I was really pregnant to go in and talk to them about getting a dishwasher. And now is that time. I went in to drop of my rent and asked to speak with a manager about getting a dishwasher. Then I was told that I had to set up an appointment to do that. So...I will be meeting toe to toe with Bonnie from Christopherson properties tomorrow. Wish me luck. Actually, wish her luck. I'm a hormonal pregnant person. She's going to need it!
xo
No comments:
Post a Comment