Day Fifty-Two: Chronicles of Moving: Part II

Within the past three days, I have been calling stranger after stranger, asking them if I can see their empty spaces they're charging money for people to live in. And everytime I call someone, I fear as the phone is ringing that they will be very, very odd. And up until yesterday (even with the previous searching I've done), I have made out very well and dealt with all generally friendly, nice, and accomodating people.

I emailed a woman about a Craigslist ad (which is always a risk, I know) about a well-priced apartment that sounded lovely -- cable was included, it allowed pets, and it had a communal patio for use with other tenants. I received an email back speaking in very professional tones ("let me show you this great unit!"), from a woman we'll call "Antonia", just for safety's sake, asking me to call her to set up a time. So yesterday, I called, hoping the phone would go to voicemail as it rang a third time, only to be answered by a gruff, upper-middle-aged woman. As I kindly stated who I was and how we had been communicating, I was met with a foreboding response: "Okay, well let me ask you a few questions". Her tone, it should be noted, was less than friendly. "Sure," I replied warily. "How old are you?," she demanded. "Twenty-four," I said confidently, and with a tone implying that I did not see how that pertained to the situation. She grilled me for another minute and a half, asking a variety of questions, some reasonable, some seemingly not. "Do you have any pets?," she asked with force. I answered with a steady no, but I was extremely curious as to why this was such a harshly asked question, as the ad said pets are welcome. My favorite question was regarding my employment. As I told I was, in fact, employed, and she asked me where, and I answered her again, she spat, "I've never heard of it." "Oh, well then it must not exist," I thought.

It seemed, despite my rudeness, that I had passed the test. She became more talkative, but only slightly more friendly, after concluding I sounded "great." I was less than impressed with her, of course. She rambled on stagnantly about what furniture was included (which was a nice surprise, since it wasn't in the listing), and mentioned hastily that it didn't have an oven, but an oven-like contraption with a name I cannot remember would be installed.

So me, who is considering baking for a living, is going to live in a place with no oven? I think not. I almost immediately hung up the phone, and thanked her for her waste of time. But some small part of me was too curious to pass it up. So I tentatively asked her for the exact address, so I could make sure I had adequate directions. She must have assumed she was the ultimate authority, because she refused, but instead gave me her own extremely detailed set of directions. So upon visiting this winner of a place this evening, I have no address, but know that it is in a gold stucco building. "You're really going to like it," she said. Sure.

So I am going to spend my Wednesday night walking around an apartment with a less-than-cheerful landlady, listening to her try to convince me that it's lack of an oven would be remedied before I moved in. It doesn't help that on top of this woman's poor first impression of both herself and her space, she asked me to bring a paystub, and if I wanted to sign tonight, I would need a $200 deposit that would cover part of my rent, or something (she actually kind of trailed off and never finished her sentence).

While I'm open to living in a lot of places, as long as the area is good, I will not make a sacrifice for a bad landlord. If I don't like you, I'm not renting for you -- the end. I am essentially hiring this woman to be available when my heat goes out or when my faucets leak, and I don't trust she's going to give a crap about me once I get in there if she has the audacity to demand I bring her a pay stub before she shows me the apartment. Needless to say, this has the potential to be a very interesting experience.

Day Thirty: How Considerate is Too Considerate?

I think it's safe to say that we all know someone who is really, really nice. These are the people that go out of their way to hold a door for you when you're twenty-five feet away, or let you get in front of them in the grocery line because you have a loaf of bread, and they have twenty-seven items. They're the people who you can't imagine ever getting really, REALLY angry, and they might even be the same people who will get you coffee while they're out because they heard you say you were sleepy. These are the people that are maybe, just possibly, too nice.

I would venture to claim that on occasion, in some ways, I might be one of these people. Although I definitely get angry, and somewhat often. These people aren't even "nice," so much as "considerate." They are extraordinarily considerate in a world of people who talk on cell phones at unacceptable volumes in enclosed public places at inappropriate times, and will be so wrapped up in their own personal messes that they don't think to hold the door for you when you're five feet away, angrily glaring at the back of their head. So even though I consider myself to be extremely considerate of others (it's not a compliment, it's a fact. If you knew me, you'd agree), still, I have met people who are nicer and more considerate than myself. And it's a little unnerving.

Such people are too considerate. People who restrain what is possibly best for themselves at the time because it would inconvenience or irritate someone else is too considerate. I am too considerate. If I find a hair in my food in a restaurant, I don't say anything, I just stop eating. If I need to ask where something is located in a store because I can't find it, I will feel bad bothering the employee lazily stocking shelves, wishing they were elsewhere, who has little to no job satisfaction. I will curse angrily in a flourish of colorful swearwords as cars don't let me merge in on the Expressway, but I won't attempt to move in. I, like other overly considerate people, are losing out on life or hindering my own progress because I think too much of others.

So for myself and others like me, vow to think about the next time you're thinking of someone else. Would you be annoyed if someone asked you for decaf instead of regular? You might not be inconsiderate, but rather forward and direct about what you want. Nobody respects people who let others walk all over them. I promise I'll try, if you try.

Day 6: The Inconsiderate Asshole

If I were to ever completely lose all that's left of my sanity and go
on a rampage where I end up throwing my own poo at people on a city sidewalk, my primary target would probably be the general inconsiderate person. Yes, if someone decides to bitch at a store clerk because they don't have the color shoes they want, I will be there, ready to strike. And if an angry diner feels like yelling at a waitress, who behind the scenes is yelling to the kitchen, because their food hasn't arrived yet, I will be hiding under

their table, seething. But thankfully for the assholes of the world (and myself), I'm not going to go insane. But seriously--assholes really piss me off. 


Logically, anyone could claim they feel this way, but I think most people get ticked when they are personally being attacked by the Mighty Asshole. I take offense when I see anyone being a victim of poor social ettiquette. What good does it do to take frustration out on the first person available? It's extremely selfish behavior. Essentially, by yelling to whomever can hear about their problems, the inconsiderate asshats of he world are ensuring that their misery and irritation will be spread to all those within earshot. If they aren't happy, no one is happy, and it's my understanding that's exactly how they want the situation to work out. They feel the need to pollute the air around them with a smog of ugly impatience and, occasionally, dour disposition.


Unfortunately, not all inconsiderate people are always angry. If they were, they'd be a lot easier to spot and avoid. Haven't we all been victim to the "Businessman Asshole" who walks up and down the cereal aisle of the grocery store negotiating with likely another businessman asshole as loudly as possible on his Bluetooth? Or what about the inconsiderate asshole driver who tails you when you're going 50 in a 35? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I think I'm beginning to make my point. 


At one moment in time or another, everyone laments those little 5- minute pockets of happiness they lose in their lives that are snatched away from inconsiderate people. So while I admit I might get a little worked up, I can't help but feel some extra compassion for anyone victim to the inconsiderate. So to all the inconsiderate assholes out there, just think next time you get on your phone or let your dog pee on my lamp post. Make the right decision and choose against being an asshole.