CHAPTER 8
After they leave my office, I get back to my duties. First things first, I draft up an email notifying the residents of the new maintenance crew:
Dear Atlantic Tenants:
Thank you to everyone who has RSVP’d to our paint and sip this month. It’s going to be a good time. There are still some slots left if you would like to join us. Also, I wanted to notify you that we have new maintenance staff. I am attaching a picture of them for your reference. Please note that if someone comes to your door claiming to be maintenance, do not open it if it is not one of these two men. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call the office.
Zimyra St. Claire
Properties Manager
Atlantic Properties
Crap…
That reminds me. I need the background checks back. It’s not like me to do things out of order like this, but between this lengthy maintenance list and Axel’s persistence, I went ahead and hired them. I check my email for Axel’s report since I submitted his first. It just came in. I immediately download the report, print it out and get up to grab up off the printer. I read over it.
I’m amazed.
He’s squeaky clean. I was kinda hoping he wasn’t so I’d have a reason to fire his butt.
Bummer.
Mauricio’s report should be back at some point tomorrow.
I have a little downtime when I return from lunch, so I look over notes for an upcoming test I have for my interior design program. I know the basics, but I need to make sure I keep the terminology fresh in my mind – words like clerestory, enfilade, etagere, monochromatic and trompe l’oeil. I know them, but when I get nervous, I confuse them. Hopefully, that won’t be the case when test time rolls around.
The door chimes. I glance that way and see Mauricio and Axel walking in looking dirty and sweaty like those five little jobs I gave them whooped their behinds.
“Hola,” Mauricio says.
“Hola. Are y’all done?” I ask, but I look at the person who knows English.
He says, “Of course—knocked it out with no issues.”
“Where’s the list?” I ask.
“You need me to turn it in?”
“Yes. You need to check off the items you completed and turn it in.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my process.”
“I’m sure you have the list on your computer.”
“I do, but—”
“Then why do you need me to turn anything in?”
“Because that’s how you assure me that it’s done. I take your sheet, I go to my electronic version, make notes and close it out.”
He frowns.
Here we go…
“There has to be a better way to do that.”
“There is, but unfortunately, the higher-ups didn’t approve the maintenance upgrade to the website as I had requested, so this is what we’re working with.”
“What was the request?”
Ugh…so many questions. Axel has a habit of sticking his nose in business that doesn’t belong to him. Is he that curious, or does he like ruffling my feathers?
I say, “Going forward, when I hand you a report, I mean for you to check the box, write your notes, if any, and—”
“What was the request?” he asks, doubling down on his question and looking at me in a way like he dares me not to answer him.
My eyes narrow. “Are you always this demanding?”
“Yes,” he responds, his gaze fixed and penetrating.
I glance over at Mauricio. He quickly turns and looks away from me. He doesn’t want any problems, and he may not know a lot of English, but he knows when a woman is heated. That language is universal.
Deciding to answer Axel before he combusts, I say, “I requested a system where tenants could enter their requests online and once I assign it to maintenance, they would sync to the app. Maintenance would see what needs to be done for the day and mark it as complete after they update their notes. At the end of the day, I generate a report and notify the tenants of the completed work.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“I thought so.”
“Why do you think they turned it down?”
“For the reason companies turn everything down—money. They don’t want to pay for it, even though they’re charging fifteen hundred for a studio apartment, but I digress. Did you run into any problems with work today?”
“No. Everything was done and there were no issues.”
“Okay. I will notify the tenants. Did you lock the shed?”
“I did.”
“Good, then that will be all for today. Enjoy your evening guys.”
Axel turns to Mauricio and says something in Spanish. Mauricio leaves, but Axel doesn’t.
I pull up my calendar on my computer and make a reminder for tomorrow morning to complete the maintenance report since I won’t have time to complete it before closing. I do this while pretending not to notice Axel is still standing in the lobby, staring at me.
Just leave. Just leave. Just leave.
I close my laptop and put it in my briefcase. I also take my notebook and textbook from the desk, and after placing them in the briefcase, I close it up.
His inescapable gaze finally gets to me. I say, “Mr. Jennings, I said you can go.”
“I’ll walk you out,” he says.
“That’s totally not necessary.”
“It is. I need to talk to you about something.”
Of course, you do…
“What might that be?” I ask, walking past him with my purse and briefcase, heading to the door.
He follows.
I turn off the light switch and then step outside with Axel.
He says, “I watched you do several tours today—well, I don’t mean I actually watched you. I mean, I saw you taking several people on tours.”
“And?”
“And, I think it’s a little odd for you to be taking people—strangers—to view an apartment. It’s an enclosed space. You’re restricted.”
“I took you on a tour,” I remind him.
“You did, and at the time, I thought that was dangerous. You didn’t know me. I’m a lot bigger than you—stronger than you—yet I’m sharing these close quarters with you. I think it’s unsafe.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“Yes, but not only that. A man can put himself in a compromising position as well. I think there should be two people on tours for that reason.”
“That’s funny—like the company is really going to hire two people to work the front office. It’s unheard of, and actually, I don’t blame them. Go to any apartment complex around her and you’ll see the same thing—one person works the office while maintenance takes care of the property. This ain’t nothing new. It’s the way it is, and it’s the way it has always been.”
“Okay, well, as long as you’ve got it under control.”
“I do. You focus on your work, and I’ll focus on mine.”
“Yes, ma’am. I hope you have a good evening.”
He finally walks to his vehicle.
I go to mine. I’m tired. My head hurts from studying, or perhaps it’s just him . Whatever the case, I head home with dreams of eating salmon and rice for dinner, taking a prolonged shower, and going to bed earlier than usual. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be yet another long day.