Highway to the Danger Zone; ride into the Danger Zone…

I don’t want to get dooced writing about work, but what am I, if not a rule-breaker? Dream-maker? Love-taker, don’t you mess around with me!

My work rents a small office in an even smaller town.

Our rent for the past few years was $250 per month.
I know, sounds laughably small, doesn’t it?

But you haven’t SEEN our office. It’s a shoe box formed between a U-shaped bar/restaurant. Thus we get the smell of cooking fries from one side and the sounds of the jukebox on the other. (Sloopy lives in a very bad part of town and everybody else, tries to put my sloopy down….)

Furthermore, a ceiling tile directly above my head is making it’s slow descent, dribbling crumbs of plaster on my head and desk. (“Someday love will find you; break those chains that bind you…. seperate ways”)

The front door has a huge draft.

Our only air conditioning is a giant, pre-1980’s window unit.
And it smells like mold. (We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love; we’ve got a wave in the air, radar love…)

The flourescent light for the front half of the office doesn’t work. Thus I type in the semi-dark, especially on cloudy days. (The lights are much brighter there; you can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares and go Downtown….)

We have so little storage space that we have a file cabinet in the bathroom. (A, B, C, as easy as 1, 2, 3…)

Speaking of the bathroom, if you stop by and request to use it, you’ll get the following warning:

“You have to flick the light switch 2-3 times to get the light to come on. If the light turns itself off while you’re going potty, knock on the wall and we’ll flip the switch for you. Then when you go in, make sure you put the doorstop in the door, otherwise it might pop open. If the toilet starts to run while you are going, don’t worry, that happens sometimes. But make sure you don’t use more than five or six squares of toilet paper or it clogs up. And when you are done, make sure you hold the handle down until a count of ten or it won’t flush. Oh, and when you get done washing your hands, put all your weight into turning the handles because otherwise the sink leaks.”

Seriously.

Our landlords won’t fix anything.

And just raised our rent to $400 per month.

Lovely.

So my boss, M., sent the new lease to our Chicago boss, B., with a list of office repairs. Facetiously, at the end she included “paper thin walls that allow us to hear domestic disputes.” (Our landlords often have loud knock-down drag-out fights that are so bad I’ve almost called the police.)

B. didn’t realize that we were joking about the walls, and, writing a proviso to the lease, merely changed the wording to “Paper thin walls that allow us to overhear conversations in the adjoining properties.”

Shit.

Once the landlords get the list the “knock-down, drag-out fight” just may be happening within our little shoebox of productivity.

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5 Responses to “Highway to the Danger Zone; ride into the Danger Zone…”

  1. Secret Server Says:

    Wow, Jennifer. You could go on one of those lyrics game shows. Oh, wait, I think you have to sing. Just kidding. I hope your landlords will make some repairs, that is crazy.

  2. jenjw4 Says:

    Well, when the jukebox is apparently on the opposite side of a paper thin wall you get to hear (and learn) a lot of great lyrics.
    Mony, Mony!!

  3. Sarah Says:

    Do you at least get some free fries? Or better yet free beer? ; )

  4. jenjw4 Says:

    Sarah,
    I wish!
    J

  5. idonotknowme Says:

    I think this calls for some pictures of the bathroom.

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