Correspondence Enclosed

To: The owners of Briarcrest Apartment Complex
(where I unfortunately now reside)

I had already finished up my final paperwork with your landlady and was on my way out the door when she called out, "stop by on Friday night, the day before you check in - what's that - the seventeenth? Perfect. Stop by that night and pick up your key. You can start moving in that night, get a little bit of a leg up."

I bring this pointless little tidbit up because I want to make it known that at least somebody at your establishment knew that I was moving into my new apartment. I didn't just show up, break down the door of the nearest empty space, and start moving armchairs and dishes in. There was, at some point, a plan to all of this. In fact, after signing paperwork, one of your employees even handed me a key for this apartment (the fact that the key didn't end up fitting in the lock is unimportant). Clearly, there was an indication from your staff that I should move into this apartment.

Of course, there was almost no other effort made on the apartment outside of this one gesture. When we opened the door to the apartment (it was unlocked, thank you, this is just the sort of security effort that we're looking for) we discovered that the previous tenant had exited the apartment after a 15 year stay, and hadn't bothered to pick up after himself on the way out. And neither had you.

No A/C, no stove, no fridge, toilet broken, showers broken, lights broken, trash left everywhere. A disaster area. So we show back up and demand help, explaining that we can't move in until this happens, and explaining that we won't pay rent until everything is fixed. And still, nothing happens. Three days later the A/C gets fixed, 5 days later we get a fridge, we got a stove yesterday. We're over a week into this little adventure and our light fixtures and toilets still look like props from Seven.

I've threatened, cajoled, begged, harassed, and come damn near close to weeping and gnashing my teeth outside the office doors. Please, please, please come fix the rest of the apartment. All will be forgiven.

In the meantime, you can know that I truly, deeply, ardently hate you.

Ben Wyman