CHAPTER 7
“I’m in,” I tell Peter as I drive to the office in the morning.
“I’m not even surprised. I knew if anybody could pull this off, it was you.”
“And get this—I even hired a guy to work with me. Of course he’s the one doing all the work, especially since I know nothing about maintenance.”
“Of course. I taught you well. There’s no need for you to get your hands dirty with that stuff, anyway. It’s not like she’ll know. She’s tucked away in her office while you’re out doing the jobs, right?”
“That’s right. She won’t know if I’m doing anything or not, so I’m good. Now all I have to do is get close enough to crack the code on how she’s dealing with these people and running this place.”
“You have no intel so far?”
“Well, she’s very cordial—always happy and upbeat. I suspect that she knows every tenant on a first-name basis.”
“Impossible.”
“I thought the same thing, but she’s personable. People like it when you know their names. Oh, and when I was in her office yesterday, I saw some flyers on her desk about a paint and sip event. I’m wondering if she’s planning that for the tenants.”
“Ah…maybe. Okay. This is good. Keep me posted on what you find out.”
“Yep. Later.”
I pull up in a parking space that’s not marked ‘Future Resident’ and shut off the engine. It’s 8:45. I figured I’d show my seriousness by arriving early. When I step into the office, I notice Zimyra’s on the phone. She glances up at me and continues her conversation. I hear her telling someone about what she expects of the grounds. She doesn’t like that the grass is not being cut on schedule.
“I don’t care what you have to do to get it done,” she snaps at the caller. “You’ll either get your men here when they’re supposed to be here, or I will hire a company that will. Is that clear enough for you?”
Dang. I don’t know what the person said to that, but I imagine they’re acquiescing to her requests.
Interesting.
This pretty woman is a fireball. She makes sure people do their jobs. I better warn Mauricio that we have to stay on target with this gig, or she’s going to be spewing her wrath at the both of us.
She hangs up the phone, massages her temples, and sighs heavily.
“Rough morning?” I ask.
“Something like that.” She blows an even breath like she’s doing some form of meditation.
While she’s in namaste mode, I walk over to the coffee, pour myself a cup, and say, “Ay, is this community coffee, or is this only reserved for the people you actually like?” I ask, then take a sip.
“Don’t start with me this morning, Jennings.”
“That was a serious question.”
“You could’ve stopped for coffee on the way in. You got here at 8:45—a whole fifteen minutes early.”
“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late. I didn’t want to give you a reason to fire me.”
“Trust me—you’ve given me plenty of reasons to fire you.”
I smirk, then take another sip.
“Stop doing that,” she says.
“Stop doing what?”
“The smirk—that little grin thing you do. Just stop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She says, “The coffee is for whoever comes in here. I keep it there for the tenants, future tenants, and visitors, so you’re welcome to it. However, if you want some good coffee, my sister-in-law owns Hott Stuff Coffee Bar. It’s the best coffee in Columbia.”
“Okay. I’ll make a mental note of that.”
She looks toward the door and asks, “Where’s your bestie?”
“Who? Oh—Mauricio.” I chuckle. “He told me he was on the way. You have the list ready for today?”
“Of course.”
She picks up a piece of paper off her desk and hands it to me saying, “That’s five jobs for the day.”
I take the list from her and read through it:
Unit 101-A – Ms. Campos reported that she needs her filters changed.
Unit 224-B – Mr. Edmonton says the fan on his hood doesn’t work.
Unit 314-A – Vacant unit. Replace the toilet in hallway bathroom and schedule pick up for old toilet.
Unit 204-B – Mrs. Phillips needs a new doorknob for her balcony door.
Light near pool – Replace the bulb in the light pole near the pool.
She says, “Just to fill you in on this list, we leave new filters for residents every eight weeks. It’s flagged on my calendar. When it comes time for their filters to be changed, you will be responsible for delivering it to their front doors. Ideally, I like to leave them on Saturdays because that’s when everyone is typically home. Ms. Campos in 101-A has asthma and likes her filter to be changed more frequently so she gets a new one every four weeks. Mr. Edmonton in unit 224-B loves to cook and the fan on the hood above his stove stopped working. It’s been like three days, but whatever. It’s broken, and it needs to be fixed. It may not sound like a big deal to you, but it is to him, and pleasing my tenants is top priority here. Unit 314-A is empty. I ordered a replacement toilet. It’s in the maintenance shed. I need you to remove the old one and install the new one. Make sure it’s the bathroom in the hallway—not the ensuite.”
“Okay. Got it,” I say, completely impressed by the way she knows her tenants and the way things are to be done. She didn’t even stop to take a breath when she gave me the rundown of the list. Not only does she know the tenants by name, but she knows their apartment numbers by heart as well. How on earth does she do that? I’m intrigued.
“I trust that you will relay this information properly to Mauricio when he arrives.”
“I will, yes.”
“Good.”
“Hey, I’m curious about something—how many units are vacant?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why does that matter?”
“It’s just a question,” I say.
After she summons a deep breath, she says, “Three units are vacant at the moment—units 314-A, 107-A, and 435-A. Also, 332-B is unoccupied because it’s the tour unit.”
“Got it,” I say. She didn’t need to look up that information on her computer either. She knows all the vacant units as well.
“Can I get back to explaining what’s on the list now?” she asks.
“Oh. My bad. I thought you were done.”
“I wasn’t.” She continues, “Mrs. Phillips in 204-B needs a new doorknob on her balcony door. There are plenty of knobs and things in the shed. As for the light near the pool, I’ve marked the light pole in question with red tape so you know which one I’m referring to. The buildings are all numbered 1, 2, 3, and 4. The first number in the unit number corresponds to the building the unit is located in. Unit 101 is in Building 1. Unit 224 is in Building 2—so on and so forth. This list needs to be completed by the end of the day. Any questions?”
“No.”
Mauricio walks in.
She says, “Look at that. He’s right on time.”
“Buenos dias,” Mauricio says.
“Buenos dias, Mauricio.”
She returns her attention to me and says, “I need y’all to stand side by side so I can take your picture.”
“For what purpose?”
“I like to send a newsletter to my tenants. This one will feature your picture so they can know who our maintenance team is. Other complexes around here have had trouble with criminals posing as maintenance workers. That’s not going to happen over here—not on my watch.”
I tell Mauricio to stand next to me while she holds up her cell and snaps our picture. She continues to impress me with how she cares for the tenants here. She knows them – almost personally, it seems – and the picture she takes of us adds to that care.
“Thanks,” she says. “That’s all for now.”
I head outside where I explain everything we have to finish today to Mauricio. He looks like he’s ready and capable. I may mess around and learn a thing or two from hanging with him. Just looking over the list again, the only item I could check off on my own is the lightbulb change, and I don’t even want to do that. Why should I have to when I’m paying Mauricio to do all of my dirty work? On top of the fifteen dollars an hour Atlantic will pay him, I told him I’d give him an extra five hundred per week. He gladly accepted.