My solace at the crescendo of my crappy
day - Home made, organic hot cocoa
with very unorganic marshmallows
As previously mentioned, I am embroiled in a long term, frustrating attempt to coax my apartment complex into giving some attention to safety and handicap access issues, instead of discounting them (and me.) They continue to allow people to block my garage, and it is a maddening battle. It isn't legal for them to do this, yet they persist. Also, there have been people parking against our only emergency exit, but I dealt with that issue in another blog.
The complex is owned by the City of Albuquerque, and I am surprised that their representatives are so unsympathetic to the limitations of the frail elderly and handicapped. Usually, government types are more savvy about discrimination issues and potential lawsuits.
I am also in shock from the nasty and unprofessional treatment I received from the new apartment manager when I questioned the advisability of having tenants and visitors block our only emergency exit with their cars. After a lifetime of living in apartments, it blows my mind that my experience with people like her is so radically different than anything I had in California. I know that, when I drove across the state line 17 years ago, I did not suddenly become a different person. Nope, it's this
place. It is stuck in time somewhere.
Aside from living in a backwards state, we also live in a very rude
era, throughout the United States. Customer service people are nasty and behave as if the customer is their employee or their underling in some significant way. I suppose they are unhappy. Everyone is underpaid and overstressed. I think one of the reasons we have so many people unemployed is because everyone who works is expected to do the job of three people. That sort of nonsense was just beginning when my health became noticeably worse from inherited illnesses and the effects of old injuries. I couldn't take the stress. I had a high powered job in the legal field and, suddenly one day, I could no longer do it. That's what our modern world does to you. It chews you up and spits you out, then moves on to the next young victim. The young have contempt for the old, never thinking that one day, pretty quick, they will be old too!
If it was only for myself, I might just say, "Oh, forget it," and try to live with it until I can find another place to live, but there are a lot of disabled and frail elderly people who live here who are likewise affected by some of these shenanigans, and my inner Saint Joan of Arc just can't stand it. She has to go on Crusade.
Judging from appearances, this is not appreciated by management, for whom the bottom line is their only obvious concern. I was inspected yesterday, something that is endured by the low income people every year. According to the lady from the mortgage authority, it is to ensure that the apartments are being "kept up."
Our property is what you call a "mixed use" property, actually. One third of the people who live here are on a reduced rent, according to income. The last manager, who ran the place for 25 years, told me many times that the low-income tenants should just be grateful they have somewhere to live and they shouldn't ask for anything or expect the same level of service that the full-paying tenants receive. She was a super person in many ways, with a great personality and a feel for real community, so I am not sure if this wacky idea was her own or if she was specifically told that by her bosses at "corporate."
Of course, I have had a lot of such shocks since becoming poor. I never had to deal with any of these apartment issues I've had to manage since moving into the low-income program in New Mexico. The complexes were run much better and the managers were very sweet and polite. There was only one incident in an apartment owned by a married couple in Burbank. The man was an alcoholic and was always trying to paw me, and I had to move out to save myself the aggravation.
My living room window. I have to keep towels stuffed in the
channel all year long because the window floods my apartment
every time it rains. I requested a new window years ago, and
management denied the request.
The inspector appeared to ignore my concern over the window that floods my apartment each and every time it rains, and a huge planter outside my bedroom window that would completely prohibit my escape if there were to be a fire, but she was very concerned that when the closet doors had been removed, the
hardware was left on and nothing was done to pretty it up and make it look like the opening was intentional. She kept talking to the apartment supervisor and, even when I spoke, would not look at me or speak to me. I directed a couple questions to her and she ignored me. She avoided eye contact. It was bizarre.
The closet from which the door has been removed.
The hardware about which the inspector was concerned.
To my mind, that is a cosmetic issue I could live with, either way. I would rather have a window that doesn't flood my apartment and free access from the bedroom window without having to crawl over a black widow infested wine barrel filled with cinderblocks and dirt.
I tried to explain to the apartment supervisor that a professional window installer had
already examined the living room window that leaks and that HE said that it had to be replaced with a different variety, but she wouldn't listen to me and kept talking at me as if my words had evaporated before they hit her ears. She kept saying that she would have to have a professional look at it before she would discuss it with me. This is typical of what happens at this apartment complex. We keep doing the same things over and over again, so even the smallest things get dragged out so long that employees change jobs at the main office in the middle of it, and the matter gets dropped unless I bring it up again. Then we have to start all over.
Old wine barrel that blocks the exit
The maintenance man was dispatched to take the screws off the bedroom window screen, as he had previously screwed it onto the frame, impeding access (years ago). Neither of us could remember why he had to do that in the first place, but I think the window is an odd size and he couldn't find a ready-made screen to fit, so he screwed it into place. It isn't his fault. Management refused to have a screen made that fit the window.
The management supervisor dismissed my concern about the planter, despite my repeating that my disabilities would not allow me to navigate that planter if I needed to get out of the apartment through that window. Her response was, "It's been there for years, hasn't it?" Well, yes, it has been dangerous for years, but are we to promote an unsafe condition simply because it has been done for some time? I kept telling her that my disabilities wouldn't allow me to get past that planter and she ignored me. (I notice today that the planter was moved off to one side, which doesn't solve the issue for me, but able-bodied people are continually trying to decide what handicapped and poor people "should" be able to deal with, and they don't know what they're talking about. If I tell someone that I can't manage it because of my disabilities, that should be IT.)
I told her that my disabilities were worsening and that I had just been diagnosed with macular degeneration, which will lead to blindness at some point. She made no comment. She just looked at me with an ugly face, then turned on her heel and walked away while I was in mid-sentence. She was visibly irritated. I suppose she didn't like it that I was bringing up issues that needed to be addressed in the apartment. I guess she was trying to get the best 'score' she could from the inspector and I was interfering. Who knows?
In addition to being treated like the scullery maid who has somehow found herself upstairs in the parlor during a grand ball, I have experienced, over the years, a continual slow-down of work on my apartment. I might as well talk into the wind when I ask for something to be done. Occasionally, it would be dispatched quickly, but usually only a portion of the job would be completed, and I would receive an email saying the job had been done! I had to contact the manager and say, hey, this job is not done, but her practice was to assign each
portion of a job a separate work order so that it appeared that a lot of jobs were being completed when, in fact, nothing was completed.
Often times, the last manager would "forget" to write the work order, then forget again and again. I am astonished and frustrated at the amount of effort that it takes to get the smallest thing taken care of. This was not the case with every issue, but was true for most. Other people, however,
who ask for the same thing, were serviced immediately. I have been waiting since May of 2015 to get water in my back yard. All my plants have died, and I am STILL waiting, despite the fact that I have 2 or 3 emails from the office claiming that the job is done. Meanwhile, another resident asked for the same thing and received it immediately.
Before the old manager left, she promised me that she would get me a hose, as she had already done for the other tenant, and would attach it to the spigot, put it onto a wheel somewhat like the one they use elsewhere on the property, and then we would put it on top of a table on my patio so that I could reach it. Because my lower spine is "ossifying" bending over and performing tasks is very difficult. Of course, she did not do it. 7 months and counting...since I asked for access to the water.
dead plants and planters that have been emptied of
dead plants
dead plants
dead plants
While I was also promised two trees, of my choosing, to be planted alongside an unsightly wall that radiates heat into the yard, the only activity behind my apartment is a weekly leaf blowing in which the "landscapers" stomp all over my garden decorations and shatter them.
Yesterday, as the mob was exiting my apartment, leaving me limp as a dishrag, I quietly asked the management supervisor, "I suppose I will be talking with you at some time in the near future?" She looked surprised and scowled at me. We had spoken on the phone once during this week when she had FINALLY returned my telephone calls and emails and she had promised she would "address" the issues that I had brought up to her, but I have heard this before, and things never changed. I guess she thought that all she had to do was say she would "address it" and we were done. The apartment manager has not apologized for her terrible behavior. How is it addressed, exactly?
Back fence
Shortly after the inspection committee left my apartment, I took the dog for a hobble around the apartment complex to get some fresh air and alleviate some of the stress. A neighbor was sitting outside his apartment smoking, and I raised my hand in greeting. He studiously ignore me.
Now, what is ironic about this is that, back when that neighbor began to experience a severe downturn in health, I took his family under my wing, paying his wife $10 an hour to clean my house ($100 a month), giving them some beautiful furniture, large framed wall mirrors, kitchen appliances, jewelry, and several large and labor-intensive baby blankets and hats for their grandchild. I obtained a walker for the man and got him in touch with a disability expert so he could get some help getting disability benefits, as he seriously needs it.
The wife began to ask for many things during this time, eyeing my furniture and other items and asking that I give them to her. She "borrowed" so many paper goods and cleaning supplies that I began to run out at the end of each month and a friend had to bail
me out and buy me replacements, while the wife never made a move to return any of the items she had borrowed. The last time she asked to borrow rolls of toilet paper, I told her I could no longer afford to supply her with household goods. She was insistent that she had no money to buy it and they were out, so I felt sorry for her again and loaded her down with three bags of paper towels, toilet paper and cleaning supplies. In return, I asked her to wash a sink of dishes as repayment, as I knew I she would never return the items she "borrowed." I was hoping that having to do my dishes would discourage her from asking again, and it did. The next time she came over, she just stole what she wanted, stashing the items in her sweatshirt, probably, as I did notice that her stomach seemed an awful lot bigger than I remembered.
I did call that woman and gently brought up the topic, at which point she began shrieking at me, shrieking at the daughter, whose baby I had given many things and who was there with her in the apartment, and generally protesting far too much. She had stolen from me. She knew she had done it. I knew she had done it. God knew she had done it, but she made sure thereafter to loudly advertise her indignation that I would dare suggest that she would steal something. Her husband has to believe her, of course, and has even gone so far as to make threatening gestures when he drove past me in the parking lot one day.
So, I walked on and had to pass the apartment of a woman to whom I had similarly devoted much time and effort to help her, driving her on shopping trips, cooking many meals for her, giving her expensive wall art she had admired as it was her favorite artist, and even helping her trim her Persian cat. She became furious with me because of my Catholicism. (She is a Protestant with some odd ideas about Catholicism and an almost complete lack of knowledge of the history of the Christian faith.) I had tried to explain some part of history to her, as she had made a claim that was completely off the beam. She was sitting in my apartment, eating a meal I had engineered specifically for her, because she was an extremely picky eater, and began to verbally rip me to shreds in a full-on attack that nearly took my breath away. The expression on her face was like Satan has taken her over. Another person was eating dinner with us and was astonished.
This wasn't the first time she had verbally attacked me. She criticized me constantly for countless things she did not like about me, about my apartment, my religion, my driving, and I put up with all of it in an attempt to be kind and patient with an elderly disabled woman who needed some help. I realized that my desire to give love and assistance to someone in need had, once again, backfired on me, and I had to step away from association with her, as I can only tolerate a certain amount of verbal abuse in my own apartment before my PTSD kicks in and I become a nervous wreck. Immediately she latched onto another woman in the apartment complex who has a car and who began driving her on shopping trips. I passed the two of them as they walked into an apartment a little further down the path, and they both pointedly ignored me.
Then I had to walk past the apartment of the man that gossips about me with the office staff and even tried to stir up trouble over one of my blog posts. Evidently, he must read my blog, at least occasionally. Have fun with this one, guy! Run right over to your buddy and complain about me.
Further down the line is an older lady who once told me she was lonely and wanted me to drive her to the Bible class I was attending at the time. While driving, she criticized my driving and my life choices, called me vulgar names, and used swear words worthy of a sailor. Then, she announced in class that she did not believe in forgiveness and how, if someone does her wrong, she not only won't forgive them but she will try to get back at them if she can. That was embarrassing.
I have since been informed that I made a terrible mistake in catering to these people and their demands. Evidently, it is typical that when a new person moves into a low-income property, some of the people will
Forgiveness is one of the central tenants of the Catholic faith that she professes, which is why
I have had to forgive the management staff for their callousness and petty retaliation and the neighbors who took advantage of my generous nature and abused me. I pray for them and discuss them, at length, with the Lord. This is why I wave benignly at all of these neighbors I have mentioned, as I pass them on my walk, despite the lump in my throat and the nausea I feel in the pit of my stomach. When you have PTSD and you must live in an environment in which people return kindness with lies, hostility, and abuse, it is very stressful.
I do not want or expect to be lauded or rewarded for my kindness, but it is surprising to be treated so poorly in return. No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose. To be reminded of these things every day as I pass these people on the grounds saddens and depresses me. I regularly smile, wave and sometimes chat with my other neighbors, but my experience with the people I've mentioned has discouraged me from getting close to any neighbor ever again. It doesn't help anyone to give them an opportunity to sin.
As far as my dealings with the management are concerned, I will have to plug away at it and follow through with the handicap discrimination case. I have been patient for ten years. That is enough.
Many of you will wonder why I stay in this place, and it is very simple. I am poor, there are very few low-income housing facilities in this city, and this one is the lesser of all the evils. If I had the money, believe me, I would not be here. The management knows this, and takes advantage of it. There are compensations. I am closer to nature here than elsewhere in Albuquerque and occasionally see some wildlife that is unusual to be found in the middle of the city. Beavers in the creek behind my apartment, muskrats, snakes, skunks, chipmunks, cranes, egrets, ducks, geese...and the quintessential New Mexico bird...the roadrunner. I just had to include him, as I saw him walk past my apartment while I was writing this!
I have had a very difficult life, in general, am saddled with many chronic illnesses, and now I learn I will probably go blind in my old age. To be dealing with all that, as well as reluctance on behalf of the apartment management to cooperate with reasonable measures to ensure our safety. and to be surrounded by people who have abused my kindness, is extremely difficult.
When I got the diagnosis of macular degeneration, I asked God, "Really? REALLLY, God? What is next? Locusts? Boils? " As St. Teresa of Avila once said, "If this is how you treat your friends, it's no wonder you have so few of them" Still, I cling to Him. I simply will not be thrown off. I'm stubborn that way.
If God is all good, and if nothing happens without the express will of God or God
allowing it to happen, who am I to complain about the circumstances? I certainly can't see the good in any of it, but at least I trust that it is there, somewhere, and that God has everything in hand. I'll do my part to ameliorate the situation, of course, but God is in charge, and I just have to follow through with what I know is right and good, having faith that He is doing His part and that all is good.
Still,....I really needed a big mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows yesterday. I'm not superwoman and I have my limits.
Silver Rose Parnell
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