6:45 p.m. - 2008-06-18
In which I do not claim any bastards
I just want to make one thing clear. I do not have children. I have two cats that I feed. I have an ever growing number of young men that I look after all day long at work. I have an enormously large number of tenants whom I must keep happy. I have a boss and a corporate office who look over my shoulder. I have a strange group of teenagers that follow me around the internet and thrive on my honest advice, but I repeat, I DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN.
It seems that people have forgotten this fact. Or people seem to think that I am a woman, therefore, I am a nurturing soul. Or people believe that I am somehow lacking because I have not squeezed a human being from myself to look after it for the rest of my life.
You have all heard me rant about my tenants and their neediness. That is just a byproduct of the way they were raised and my burden because of where I choose to work. It is the nature of my job to be customer service and sooth the savage beasties, I get that and most of the time, deal with the consequences.
As for the sausage factory, aka my office, I find it amusing that I work with a roomful of young men. I like working with a room full of young men. However, I do resent the idea that I am here to clean up their messes. They are all perfectly capable of doing their own paperwork. They are all perfectly capable of getting all the money they collect to the right people. They are all capable of making sure their desks do not look like the governor should declare it in need disaster relief.
Yesterday, the accounting department finally came down on the leasing agents because there was a lot of fees and rent that had not been paid from the first of the month, I have been asking for it for weeks, and have been told every time that it had been sent by the agents. I knew it was not getting done, but I can only ask so many times. Oh, yeah, and I was not about to do it for them. I have enough work of my own to catch up on. I knew the only way they were going to learn was to have the wrath of corporate come down on their pretty little heads. So, when the calls and e-mails started flying yesterday I sat back and watched. Today, when I was asked why I did not do anything to help yesterday I sweetly answered that I had told them this was going to happen and they had to learn the consequences of their actions. Nobody could argue that.
Then today the Ken Doll stopped by the office. I am still not sure why. He comes in and starts asking me questions about one of my receptionists, who I said was doing a very good job. I think the Ken Doll is upset because this kid is supposed to be his assistant but has been working for me and liking it. Then he looks around and notices that a few of the agents have very cluttered work spaces. He tells me to clean up the office. I asked him why I should do it. He said, �You are the office manager, you should keep it clean.�
Of course, I had to respond, �No, I am not the office manager. I am the Assistant Property Manager, and it is not my job to be den mother to these agents. They are perfectly capable of cleaning up their own desks.�
He said that he would just have to tell our favorite owner that he needs to bring it up during the leasing meeting, and that he, the Ken Doll, tells him what to say during the meetings. I just grinned and nodded and walked out of the room.
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