Nice People

Four viewings of the apartment were scheduled last evening.

I asked D to accompany me, as spending time alone in that place has really been getting to me. He obliged, of course, because he is good-natured and because he's been desperately trying to come up with ways "to help" and "to make things easier" and "to not feel so helpless."

As we approached the apartment, D said "Oh no! I think those two girls are waiting to see your apartment!" We were over a block away. I said "How can you tell?" He said "I can just tell."

I suffered a mild panic, but on the behalf of the girls, because how awkward must it be to look at an apartment you might potentially adore at the same time as someone else? It must be like interviewing for a job at the same exact time as another potential candidate.

I said "Hey, are you guys here to look at the apartment?"

They were both there to look at the apartment.

I fell in love with both of them immediately. I desperately want one of them to live there.

And, bizarrely, they both liked it!

Of course I can't count on strangers to have good credit and to get their acts together enough to fill out an application and woo The Landlord's Lackey (although, I must state on the record that The Landlord's Lackey has metamorphosed into a sickly sweet care-giving woman who said, on the phone yesterday, "I know, this must be so stressful for you, I completely understand and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help"), so hopes are not up.

Nevertheless...

It was slightly awkward when the first girl, more of a go-getter and assured of herself to the point that I was made jealous, declared "I will apply for it. Please give me the information."

The second girl was adorable and I want her to liver there only so I can give her my old shelves and become her new best friend.

A guy came third, and he too was enamored with the place but isn't looking to move until July. But he was flexible. He'd mentioned his salary in my original screening email and yes, he can most certainly be flexible. He had a friend with him, and, again, I immediately fell in love with them both.

Which brings me to the fourth guy, and the fourth guy will be the first in a story of ill-mannered potential tenants about whom I will blog when things are less frantic at work.

OK. First of all, I should have known better as he is "a student." Not that I have anything against students, but students can be, well, flaky, and are therefore less than appealing as potential tenants.

Second of all, he had a name that annoyed me.

He did not show up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and because I am organized to a fault, I had his name and phone number and appointment time written down on the neverending list of people-who-will-look-at-and-criticize my apartment.

I called him.

This is what happened:

Me: Hello?
Boy: Hello?
Me: Is this Boy?
Boy: Yes.
Me: Hi, this is Leah Lar, I'm wondering if you still wanted to take a look at the apartment tonight.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hi.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hello.
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: (checking phone, having 5 bars)
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: Hello? Can you hear me?
Boy: I can't hear you.

Hangs up.

I call back. Phone rings. He does not pick up. At all.

Tool.