My building doesn’t have available parking right now. Therefore, I park around the street in another building. The parking spot I am renting is a complete joke. First of all, it breaks my heart to know how many Kate Spade purses I could have purchased with the money I put towards parking in Chicago. It’s unreal.
Second, the parking spot is positioned in a way that I cant pull in to it. I drive up a narrow ramp and then around the corner to a spot sandwiched between a pole and a car that does not move. Cars are parked on the wall across from my spot so I cant just pull into my spot, I have to go back and forth turning my steering wheel back and forth to get into the spot. My Beetle could get in to this spot after a few tries but my new car (a VW Eos) is more difficult and a little scary.
But that isn’t the best part about this parking garage. I don’t have keys to get into the building so I have to carry the garage door opener around so I can open it. I get the funniest looks from people when I am walking near a building and instead of using the door next to the garage I open the garage door with this old school garage door opener. This really throws off the front desk attendants because they think I am a terrorist trying to break in to their luxurious Lake Shore Drive apartment building.
In fact, this one man that works for the building likes to stop me EVERY time I go to get my car. I pull in to the building and he runs out and yells “WHO ARE YOU”. I begin to roll my eyes and explain to him that I live around the corner but I am renting a parking spot in this building (like I do every day). He responds “What unit do you live in here?” Clearly, what I JUST SAID didn’t go through (or the last 20 times I said it). I repeat that I don’t live here and I am renting. We go back and forth for a five or ten minutes and he lets me go. I attempt to park and exit out the front of the building. He stops me and asks, “who are YOU”. Not this again...
The next day I pull in the garage and I notice him sticking his head out the door staring me and my car down. I speed forward so he doesn’t stop me and proceed to my spot. As I get out of my car I see him running up the ramp towards me. Seriously. He runs to my car and says “WHO ARE YOU”. Same story, different day.
This goes on every day for like a week. “Who are YOU” ... crazy man.
Then, I go out and get a new car. Oh man, if this man wasn’t confused before he was sure going to be now. I park my new car and go downstairs. I stop at the front desk and say “Just wanted to let you know that I got a new car and so if you see a new car it is me”. He asks “WHO ARE YOU?”. Really, sir? Really.
I explain that I use to drive a Beetle and now I drive a white Eos and I don’t live in the building but I park there. Same story I have been telling him for over 2 weeks. He goes “OH, Right! You’re my baby!” Excuse me. I went from a stranger to his “baby”. This man needs meds.
My apartment building is suppose to have parking opening in June, and you can bet your bottom dollar I am going to jump at a spot to move out of crazyville and into a new spot.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Crazy Door Security
I sleep very sound in my apartment, every night. Why, you might ask? Because the out of control door staff hardly lets me in the building to get to my apartment, let alone someone who does not belong in our building.
It all started when Megan and I were looking at apartments. We arrived at the apartment building and our realtor introduces himself to the front desk attendant as he did in the other 5 buildings we had visited. When entering the other 5 apartment buildings we were welcomed and asked to sign in, then the door was personally opened for us and we headed up to the apartment for rent. This was not the case at the apartment building we live in now. Our building door staff (all women, I might add) is an intense group of security officers in training. They almost didn’t let us in the apartment when we wanted to view our apartment and they have sent away multiple people since then.
A few weeks ago I had made an appointment for the cable man to install our cable. I let the front desk know that we had the appointment and to call Megan. They were suppose to arrive between 11:00 – 3:00. At 3:30 I called Megan to see how the cable was working and she said they never arrived. I called the cable company and they said the door staff turned them down. They just said “nope” and didn’t let them in. Strike 1.
The next day I had a couch being delivered to the building. I called the front desk and let them know. I told them I had a couch being delivered, reserved the elevator for the couch and had Megan waiting for it to arrive. Again, called Megan and asked how the new couch looked. She said they never came. I called the furniture store and asked them why they didn’t deliver the couch. They said the door staff would not let them up. Strike 2. They then went on to say I would have to pay for delivery a second time since they weren’t able to deliver it today. Strike 2.5. I paid the delivery fee, again, and scheduled the couch for two days later. I told EVERYONE that the couch was coming between 1 and 5, and that they needed to call Megan. The couch arrived at 10:30 and they wouldn’t let them up because Megan wasn’t answering her phone (she was in the shower, she didn’t expect them to get there until 1:00). This time, they called me to tell me they were sending away the couch company, again. I was outraged. I told them “absolutely not” and they said, “Megan’s not here, you’re not here, the couch is not going to be here”. I begged the door woman to send the delivery man up to our apartment to knock. After 10 minutes of “pleaseeeeeee” and minor threats she agreed to send him up. THANK GOD. (they can take back their .5 of a strike).
They delivered the couch but they were so mad it had turned into a two day, three hour production they literally dropped the boxes in the apartment and peace’d out.
Then we had friends visit. I think they had an easier time getting through airport security then our building.
Then my cousin visited. I think he felt verbally violated by the front desk yelling at him to write down his EXACT time on the piece of paper of when he arrived.
So note to visitors, when you want to visit please plan to bring three forms of identification and a sleeping bag, there is no guarantee you will get passed the watch dogs to actually visit our apartment.
It all started when Megan and I were looking at apartments. We arrived at the apartment building and our realtor introduces himself to the front desk attendant as he did in the other 5 buildings we had visited. When entering the other 5 apartment buildings we were welcomed and asked to sign in, then the door was personally opened for us and we headed up to the apartment for rent. This was not the case at the apartment building we live in now. Our building door staff (all women, I might add) is an intense group of security officers in training. They almost didn’t let us in the apartment when we wanted to view our apartment and they have sent away multiple people since then.
A few weeks ago I had made an appointment for the cable man to install our cable. I let the front desk know that we had the appointment and to call Megan. They were suppose to arrive between 11:00 – 3:00. At 3:30 I called Megan to see how the cable was working and she said they never arrived. I called the cable company and they said the door staff turned them down. They just said “nope” and didn’t let them in. Strike 1.
The next day I had a couch being delivered to the building. I called the front desk and let them know. I told them I had a couch being delivered, reserved the elevator for the couch and had Megan waiting for it to arrive. Again, called Megan and asked how the new couch looked. She said they never came. I called the furniture store and asked them why they didn’t deliver the couch. They said the door staff would not let them up. Strike 2. They then went on to say I would have to pay for delivery a second time since they weren’t able to deliver it today. Strike 2.5. I paid the delivery fee, again, and scheduled the couch for two days later. I told EVERYONE that the couch was coming between 1 and 5, and that they needed to call Megan. The couch arrived at 10:30 and they wouldn’t let them up because Megan wasn’t answering her phone (she was in the shower, she didn’t expect them to get there until 1:00). This time, they called me to tell me they were sending away the couch company, again. I was outraged. I told them “absolutely not” and they said, “Megan’s not here, you’re not here, the couch is not going to be here”. I begged the door woman to send the delivery man up to our apartment to knock. After 10 minutes of “pleaseeeeeee” and minor threats she agreed to send him up. THANK GOD. (they can take back their .5 of a strike).
They delivered the couch but they were so mad it had turned into a two day, three hour production they literally dropped the boxes in the apartment and peace’d out.
Then we had friends visit. I think they had an easier time getting through airport security then our building.
Then my cousin visited. I think he felt verbally violated by the front desk yelling at him to write down his EXACT time on the piece of paper of when he arrived.
So note to visitors, when you want to visit please plan to bring three forms of identification and a sleeping bag, there is no guarantee you will get passed the watch dogs to actually visit our apartment.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Byeee Byeee Beetleeee!
Well, it was a good run...
Or, maybe I should replace "good" with "interesting".
We all know my car has had its fair share of stories, but after the last month of a million problems it is time to put the beetle to bed.
It started a few weeks ago. My car was making some awkward noises, but I thought if I turned my radio up and ignored the rattling from under the hood everything would be fine. Turns out I should not consider being a mechanic anytime in the near future...
Then, I thought it was my oil, so I went and got an oil change, and still, something didn’t feel right.
My air conditioning never worked in my car, but the heat would work regardless if it was on or not. In the last month I realized it was getting VERY hot in the car, to the point that I couldn’t cool it down. I would find out later that this was the root to a lot of my problems... (i.e. the engine light being on, the fact I could only drive in 3rd gear, the rattling in the transmission, etc.).
The next episode occurred when I was driving home late from work one night, and I was on my cell phone. I was leaving a message and as I drove through a bad part of town. As I pushed down on my accelerator my car was going down too, in speed that is. I was not moving.. at all. I pulled over to the side of the road (the best I could) and started banging on the dash, something I had gotten quite use to doing. Bang, Bang, Shit.
I get out my phone (which was 5 minutes from being completely dead) and called my parents. All I remember is screaming "MY Piece of $&!^ Car just BROKE DOWN". In a very calm voice, both my parents talked to me. Calm wasn't really working for me at this point so I hung up and called triple A. This time, I was more sarcastic then frantic. The voice on the other line picked up "Road side assistance, how may we help you" I answer, "A new car?". They didn’t laugh at my bitter humor; so I went on to explain my situation. I told them that my car wasn’t moving, that I was in a bad part of town, that there was a car 200 feet in front of me with people in it, that it was 10:30 at night and that my cell phone was dying, that I couldn’t hear every 10th word they were saying because my parents were calling me on repeat while I was on the phone with them. Etc. Etc. Etc. They basically said what all triple A assistances do, stay in your car, someone will be there within the next 3 hours. Well, I didn’t have 3 hours, as I hung up the phone on them I answered my parents asking the status of my location. "Still stuck in my broken down beetle" I replied. Just then, my phone dies. A few seconds after that, two thug like men get out of the car in front of me and start walking to my car, each one headed to a different door.
These men could have been wonderful gentleman, but, at 10:30 in a bad side of town, with a broken down car, a dead cell phone and two cans of mace, I didn’t want to know what they wanted, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I turn the key, nothing. I bang on the dash, nothing. I press on the break, back light turns red, but other than that, nothing. Say a little prayer, try the key again, nothing. Scream a little prayer (and a few other words I don't need to mention) turn the key, BINGO! I get out of there as the men had just about approached my car and race home.
After I got home I had my car towed to a service station, they charged me a few hundred dollars and yet my car was still hot and still turning off. On my way to work this week I was stopped at a light and when I went to drive, nothing.
I drove my car to a Car Max and sold it that night. It was an experience.
Note: It took me a long time to find story with the broken down car and crazy thugs story funny. therefore, I am just posting this now.
Or, maybe I should replace "good" with "interesting".
We all know my car has had its fair share of stories, but after the last month of a million problems it is time to put the beetle to bed.
It started a few weeks ago. My car was making some awkward noises, but I thought if I turned my radio up and ignored the rattling from under the hood everything would be fine. Turns out I should not consider being a mechanic anytime in the near future...
Then, I thought it was my oil, so I went and got an oil change, and still, something didn’t feel right.
My air conditioning never worked in my car, but the heat would work regardless if it was on or not. In the last month I realized it was getting VERY hot in the car, to the point that I couldn’t cool it down. I would find out later that this was the root to a lot of my problems... (i.e. the engine light being on, the fact I could only drive in 3rd gear, the rattling in the transmission, etc.).
The next episode occurred when I was driving home late from work one night, and I was on my cell phone. I was leaving a message and as I drove through a bad part of town. As I pushed down on my accelerator my car was going down too, in speed that is. I was not moving.. at all. I pulled over to the side of the road (the best I could) and started banging on the dash, something I had gotten quite use to doing. Bang, Bang, Shit.
I get out my phone (which was 5 minutes from being completely dead) and called my parents. All I remember is screaming "MY Piece of $&!^ Car just BROKE DOWN". In a very calm voice, both my parents talked to me. Calm wasn't really working for me at this point so I hung up and called triple A. This time, I was more sarcastic then frantic. The voice on the other line picked up "Road side assistance, how may we help you" I answer, "A new car?". They didn’t laugh at my bitter humor; so I went on to explain my situation. I told them that my car wasn’t moving, that I was in a bad part of town, that there was a car 200 feet in front of me with people in it, that it was 10:30 at night and that my cell phone was dying, that I couldn’t hear every 10th word they were saying because my parents were calling me on repeat while I was on the phone with them. Etc. Etc. Etc. They basically said what all triple A assistances do, stay in your car, someone will be there within the next 3 hours. Well, I didn’t have 3 hours, as I hung up the phone on them I answered my parents asking the status of my location. "Still stuck in my broken down beetle" I replied. Just then, my phone dies. A few seconds after that, two thug like men get out of the car in front of me and start walking to my car, each one headed to a different door.
These men could have been wonderful gentleman, but, at 10:30 in a bad side of town, with a broken down car, a dead cell phone and two cans of mace, I didn’t want to know what they wanted, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I turn the key, nothing. I bang on the dash, nothing. I press on the break, back light turns red, but other than that, nothing. Say a little prayer, try the key again, nothing. Scream a little prayer (and a few other words I don't need to mention) turn the key, BINGO! I get out of there as the men had just about approached my car and race home.
After I got home I had my car towed to a service station, they charged me a few hundred dollars and yet my car was still hot and still turning off. On my way to work this week I was stopped at a light and when I went to drive, nothing.
I drove my car to a Car Max and sold it that night. It was an experience.
Note: It took me a long time to find story with the broken down car and crazy thugs story funny. therefore, I am just posting this now.
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