When One Door Closes, A New One Gets Stuck

<bitching>

I've been living at my new apartment now for over a month and I'm still not set up in the front door security system. Which means no one can dial up to my apartment to let me know they're here. Luckily my friends just call my cell, but when I get a delivery I have to hope there are multiple packages to deliver for other residents here too so Mr. UPS or Fed-Ex or pizza-man can just come knock on my door. Bwah! If I want takeout, I have to go walk down and pick it up myself, no delivery. So my range of food when I'm too lazy to cook is pretty limited. Oh, how I suffer!

Now before I start going into how frustrated I am with my manager, I must say that I like the guy. He's nice, he's well read, and I can have a nice conversation with him. Yet, as a manager, he's not that organized. Bugger!

I set up my new phone line before I even moved down from Oakland. Since the girls who had still been living in the apartment had cell phones only, I was able to turn on the phone line for myself while they were living here. I wanted to be able to have all my services ready so the manager had everything he needed from me for set up immediately and just have it done within the first week. So when I told him my home phone was already on, he had me write it one the back of an envelope - which was then lost/recycled. Gave him my number again but put it on the contact sheet he keeps - it's in a pile somewhere... |8>[ *grumble*

Another little move in item was that the girls who had lived here previously kept their mailbox keys so they could keep checking for their mail, but gave the manager no new contact info so he could call and ask for the keys back. So here I am with no access to my mail box for the first week and a half, and it only wasn't until I asked him to change the lock, again, that he finally did it. I was there while he was forcing the little mail door open to break open the old lock and replace it. While we were there, another of the new tenants, who's been here longer than me, was also asking the manager when she can get her number added into the security door panel as well since she'd been having to go down to the delivery depots to get her packages since no one could buzz her apartment. He told her he'd do it soon, and I was standing there hoping mine would be entered at the same time.

So, two days later when rent is due I also check to see if I was in the security door system yet, I'm not. I head up to my apartment, grab one of the super-stick Post-it™ pads I have, write my name, apartment number and home land-line on it in nice big block letters. I almost wrote "For the front door", but didn't. I stuck the Post-it™ to my rent check and went over to the manager's apartment. He has his door open and he's doing his dishes and calls for me to just come in when I knocked on the doorjamb. He tells me to just leave the check on his piano, which I do and then I hold up the sticky note.

"I put my home phone and info on this so you can't lose it," and I stick it plain sight on the standup piano too.

"Jon, my friend," he begins, "About that..."

Oh, this can't be good. I'm thinking. Yet, he goes on to ask me if I'm good with electronic things and programming things like the door security panel. Finally I see why I and any other new tenants don't have ourselves entered in the thing. "Yes, I'm very good with that kind of thing. I just need to see the manual and I'll go do it now."

He waves me off, "No, not now. The instructions are in the office and I need to get the other people's numbers."

Damn.

We agree to set up the numbers within the next two days, and we'd work something out in compensation for me. How about getting my phone and name added to the damn thing, that's what I really want now. Since I was going to be busy with a trip to Santa Monica and other things, I couldn't do it the next. When I see him next three days later, I tell him to get the stuff together and I'm free to help him that day. He says okay, he'll come by later, but never does. This happens a few other times.

Then today, I have a package from UPS coming and the driver won't deliver to me, and I'm not on good terms with anyone who's around at the time, otherwise I'd have him call a different apartment for me. The guy next door already kinda hates me, but that's another story all together.

I go over to the manager's apartment, to see if we could program the security panel today. He tells me, "I let one of my friends at another apartment who has the same system borrow the instructions. I asked him to give them back, but he hasn't done that yet. When he gives them back, I'll let you know." I wanted to scream, but held it in and cheerfully said okay and went back to my apartment.

Gwah!!

I grab the same super-sticky Post-it™ pad I used earlier, and wrote another note to the UPS driver to call my number with a cell phone if he can since I'm not listed in the security panel just yet. While I was down sticking the note to the glass of the front door, driving it in with extra pressure with my knuckles, I also took down the model name of the panel.

Back in my apartment, I look up the manufacturer online to grab the manual as a PDF which they had linked. I try opening the file but the PDF from them is busted and won't show anything but the first page. I just sit there staring at the contents table in the little side drawer of the PDF viewer as it shows all the contents. The programming bookmark is there taunting me, reminding me, it won't be that easy, Bub. BUgger!! Bloody, frickin' bugger!

I search through more of the manufacturer's website to try and find another link for the manual and find one, but it points to the same directory and file. I use it anyway and find that new download is busted too.

Back to Google, and do a series of searches for the product name and "manual", and get a lot of hits for manual that are unrelated. I make revisions to the search, but find only installation instructions. Finally after 25 minutes I find a retailer that has the right manual. Score!

I read through the manual to make sure I can walk up to the panel and just start jamming in the codes right away without having to stand there gawking and fumble at first. I don't have a printer just yet, so I need to go down with my laptop. After I'm sure I know just what needs to be done, I unplug my laptop, and head over to the manager's apartment since I need the physical key to set the panel into program mode.

I ring the doorbell and wait. Wait a little more. Ring the doorbell again. Stand there and admire all the nice plants and flowers we have in the courtyard. They're nice. I'm still waiting there holding on to my laptop outside his door. It's quiet and he ain't there.

Bugger...

Now I hate complaining, I say so in the About Me in my MySpace profile. Yet this is just too damn annoying, out of my control and I need to vent.

Man, when I see him next, he better not tell me he can't find the security panel key.

</bitching>