Lousy Service

It would be a mild understatement to say our apartment building has had some issues over the years. For example, there was a fun time when our bathtub and sink used to throw up dirt and other types of bile from the depths of hell, and another favorite is when the ceiling over our shower began to grow slightly concave (yes, I still have a slight anxiety when showering.) I also loved the smoker we have next door who makes our lovely lobby smell like a cheap motel, and who can forget the incredible security system that ensured our bikes and all our neighbors' were stolen from our garage. Now, as annoying as all these things have been none of us have really made much of a stink over them. However, there has been one annoyance that has literally caused all the old people in our building to go completely crazy - the elevator.

About once a week the elevator just decides to die. Now, I live on the first floor (blog stalkers please keep your distance) so the death of the elevator does not effect me as much. Sure, it's annoying to walk the extra steps through the garage with groceries, but let's be honest, I'm usually only carrying a cereal box, milk and some bread, but for the old people this just pisses them off. Over the years, they have congregated in the lobby and muttered words of disgust as you innocently go to get your mail, they've left notes on the elevator informing loved ones they died because they were unable to travel three flights of stairs to get to the hospital and they have broken hips (wait...that might have just happened on its own.) Anyway, the other morning I woke up and found these posters all over the lobby:
I have to give them credit. I like the use of the word "dangerous." It changes the game. Now, I want this elevator fixed more than anything because now I'm afraid. Before, annoyed. Now, afraid. I also like that they bring up the fact that we pay too much...for what? Yeah, "lousy service." Again, game changer. Before, I was like, "I live in a nice apartment with a fickle elevator." Now, I'm like, "I live in a luxury hotel that is not bringing me champagne and strawberries, and I will not put up with this lousy service." So, again, fix this elevator. And lastly, invoking our manager's name is fantastic. It says, "Yeah, we're old and sit in our apartments all day, but we know...we know your name."

Has the elevator died since? Yep. Will it die again? Will someone on the third floor break a hip?