Vastly different styles

I am a little behind on my rent, thanks to the massive car repair bill last month I mentioned before. (Seriously, you guys: get your fucking brakes checked.) I dropped a money order for a little less than half of the original amount in their drop slot last night, knowing that I'd still owe them for late fees and such. Pretty much, I was screwed.

A few minutes ago, the apartment manager stopped me as I was walking back from the laundry room. This apartment manager is kind of like our apartment complex's Commander Riker -- he runs things from a hands-on perspective, people come to him with their problems and complaints, and he's always dragging the Klingon around when things go bad. (The Klingon would be our maintenance guy, who is always stomping across the grounds and growling.) But even though he's in a position of authority, he's not in charge -- there's someone else above him, some mysterious Captain Picard who makes all the real decisions. And if that guy shows up to talk to you personally, you've probably fucked up pretty badly.

"You need to run by the office real quick," Commander Riker said. Now, I like this guy. Older guy, long ponytail, looks he's seen a thing or two. Really nice guy, too. But I've never been comfortable being told to go to the office, no matter what office it is. Offices and I don't get along.

"There's a lady in there who works for the landlord," he continued. "You need to talk to her, fill out some papers."

With my money order, I included a note explaining when I'd be able to pay them next. I thought this would be sufficient. Apparently not.

"Don't worry," Number One tells me. "We'll work with you."

We'll work with you. A shiver down my spine. Oh, I've heard We'll work with you before. Pine Forest, where I lived before this place. Oh, hell yeah, they'd work with you all the time. When I moved in there, I explained that my income, because of my job, came at odd and unpredictable times, so I wouldn't always been able to pay my rent exactly on time. We'll work with you, they said, smiling. Turns out, We'll work with you means We'll shove crippling late charges up your ass. And then, when you move out of this apartment into another we've annexed, and your roommate loses his job over and over again, we'll show up when you're not home and just start taking everything that isn't bolted down. And then we'll go back and get a bolt cutter.

A lot of subtext there, huh? So I was understandably concerned about being worked with again.

Turns out, they're not fascists here at Torrey Pines. We'll work with you ends up meaning We'll work with you. I explained the situation, and the lady (our Counselor Troi?) said, "Oh, that's no problem. Here, you can pay this much when you said you would, and then pay the rest of it on the 20th. Okay?"

I started to say yes, but she stopped me, "Now, I don't want to break you. That's not gonna break you, you'll be okay?" I started to say yes again, but she stopped me again: "Actually, you know what, since you came in today, I'm gonna go ahead and knock some of these late charges off." And she knocked seventy dollars off my late charges. All right!

"Next month, if you're going to be late again, just come in and tell us around the first, and we'll make sure you don't pay any late charges," she said.

All right!

Also, because of my car payments and frantic scrambling for money, I'm behind on the water bill. I told her I hoped they didn't turn my water off.

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "We won't. You water won't be turned off, trust me."

This is so cool.

They won't turn off my water? Then I'm never paying the water bill again! Hahahaha!

Ahem.