Friday, June 16, 2006

Anger management

"An angry man is again angry with himself when he returns to reason."
- Publilius Syrus


I thought I'd share my major angst for the week - as is usually the case these days, it involves my good friends at Paramount Companies. We received a notice in our door on Monday night saying that someone had put a contract in on the apartment (we officially declined their generous offer to purchase our tiny little apartment for $105,900 a few weeks ago) and that they wanted to bring this person in to inspect the unit. The letter said that the inspection would occur on Wednesday sometime between 9AM and 4PM. I had no intention of allowing complete strangers into the apartment unsupervised, so I went to the Paramount sales office Tuesday afternoon and asked them (well, ok - told them) in a not-all-that-friendly manner that I wanted to be there, that I didn't know them and I didn't trust them to not let the cats run out the door. A nice woman named Angela (who is the "walk-through coordinator") seemed to understand, wrote down 12:45 in her book as the time to show my unit, and said that it wouldn't be a problem. I left the office feeling good - I was happy that I'd stood my ground and didn't let them just have their way, like they have had every time since this whole thing started.

So on Wednesday I arrive at home on my lunch break at 12:40. i walk in the door and discover that the bedroom door was closed. Knowing that I didn't leave it like that, I instantly knew they'd already been there. Not only that, but they locked the cats in the bedroom with no food or water. I was furious - I didn't even take another step into the apartment, instead walking right back out the door and straight to the sales office. I was so mad that I was actually shaking when I got there. I was literally out for blood. I went in and demanded to see Angela. The receptionist said she wasn't there, so I asked for whoever was in charge, and was told they were at lunch. So, with no one else to yell at, I simply unloaded on the poor receptionist. I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of Angela and Paramount Companies. She gave me the standard lines that customer service people are trained to give an irate customer, but I wouldn't even let her finish a sentence. After about 2 minutes of non-stop screaming, I left, slamming the door behind me. At first, I felt good - I had been wanting to say those things to someone from that place since the very first day they came into my life. But since then, the more I've thought about it....I really got way, way to angry. I mean, I would never, ever hit a woman - but if Angela was a man, I would have had no problem attacking him. That's how mad I was.

In the last two days, I've had a chance to reflect on why I got that angry. Yes, they screwed me yet again - but the cats were fine, they didn't steal my stuff - was it really worth me hitting someone over? I have a feeling that I've been taking out my issues with other things in my life on this company and my living situation. After all, they are an easy target: I never even knew they existed, then one day out of the blue I learn that I've either got to buy my home or leave it. They instantly became my enemy, and gave me something to be mad at. I honestly think I need to take a step back from this situation and try to let it go. I don't think that I'm doing myself any favors by constantly being upset and irritated at people/things. If I stop thinking about how my hand is being forced for a moment, I have to admit that there's a good chance we would have left Summer Isle when the lease is up in December anyway. Four years is a pretty good run in a 1BR/1BA with two people and three cats. Perhaps if I look at this whole sitch as a kick in the pants instead of a screw job, I'll be a much happier unit. I'm gonna try it and see how it goes. I can always make some heads roll later if necessary :)

1 comment:

chris said...

I'll be a much happier unit

Heheheh.... he said 'unit'. hehehehe.

Oh goddammit, I've become borderline retarded.

Ah well. I can understand your frustration.