Hell in a Handbasket

Ah, another lovely "work" post. But you guys just LOVE to hear about all the haps at Hell. I know you do. You freaky bunch of Satan Worshippers, you!

Sometime soon, I'll have to do a cast list of all the residents...as there are a few that are more than a little amusing...but, today, I think it's gonna be a "slice of life" kinda thing. Now this wasn't a typical day, but it was a recent day, at Hell. And as so many others have been, a day full of surprises.

Supergirlfriend (or, I suppose more accurately, her alter ego Construction Bitch) was asked by one of the owners of Hell to meet an appraiser down there at 10:30 to show a space that will be closing in a couple weeks. Sounds innocent, doesn't it. That's how these things always start. It couldn't possibly turn bad. Can you see the stars twinkling in my eyes from way over there?

Since I needed to reinspect three other spaces that had already been punched (to see if the remaining work/corrections had been finished), I thought it would be a good time to take the list with me and take care of that as well. By the time I finished, I'd check on construction in the one space currently under construction and then away to a leisurely lunch...likely at home. Ah, the naive dreamer that I am sometimes.

So, I grabbed the master keys and my punch list and headed out into the day all dewy-eyed and unsuspecting. The beautiful cotton candy sky full of pink and blue and purple puffy clouds deceptively embracing Hell added the perfect backdrop to the black comedy that is my career.

When I got to the site, the appraiser had gotten there a little early and Marcus (the superintendent), being ever helpful, had let him in and was showing him around. I opened the door to the space and they both turned to see who was there. Marcus smiled his big grin and let me know he'd done me a favor by letting this guy in and showing him around. And I was gonna have to let him take me to lunch now to make it up to him. It's hard to turn down such an offer at 10:30 in the morning, girls. I recognize that. I realize that I'm a fool to overlook the very obvious charms of this sloe-eyed seducer, this lothario lush, this drunk Don Juan. But, alas, my heart belongs to another.

This is twice now that Marcus has made a pass at me. Even if I didn't have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world, I still wouldn't go out with him. I (more or less) politely declined, continued on with the appraiser, allowing Marcus to get back to the important business of working on the rest of that bottle of maddog 20/20 out in the front seat of his pick up. The appraiser was pleasant enough and when that was finished, I walked to the space next door. The one currently under construction. Still blissfully unaware of the secrets Hell would reveal to me that day.

The contractors were supposed to have poured a concrete slab a couple days earlier and were going to pour a concrete landing and stairs that day. I opened the door of the space and the concrete guy was RIGHT THERE. Trowelling the concrete landing smooth inches in front of me. The steps already in place, I almost did one of those classic moments barging in and walking ankle deep right into fresh concrete. The guy (who I later learned was...let's call him Glen) looked up at me and I looked at him. "I almost messed that up. Didn't I?" I blurted, as I caught myself on the door frame barely missing the opportunity to immortalize my footprints in Hell. He smiled at me and said, "That's all right, Baby. Who are you?" In my most professional voice, I told him my name was not "Baby", explained who I was and why I was there. Asked him about the slab, and the steps, and told him I was going to the other spaces to reinspect. Keeping things entirely business. He said "When you get done you should come back over here and keep me company."

There was a vibe in Hell. In fact, Hell seemed to be seething. And I didn't like it. Not one little bit.

I reinspected the other spaces relatively quickly. Trying my hardest to get out of there before something else happened. Ignoring the concrete guy who kept sticking his head in and asking if I needed anything. But before I could get back to the safety of my car, one of the residents (whom I believe has at some point implanted a tracking device in the back of my neck because every time I am there, I run into him. Every time.) walked up to me. "Hi, Supergirlfriend!" He smiled and shook my hand (except, you know, he didn't really call me Supergirlfriend). I said "Hi, Luke.(except, you know, I didn't really call him Luke.) Is there something going on in your unit?" No. Luke had gossip. Gossip about his neighbors that he wanted to share.

Now, let me just say that I like gossip as much as the next guy, but I was trying to hasten a retreat for all it was worth. But no, Luke assured me that this was not just any gossip, this was grade-A, top of the line gossip. And I gotta give him his props, it was as advertised.

Luke has a running feud with one of his neighbors. The guy is also a huge pain in my ass and has been for months. So, when Luke dishes about this guy, I like to keep current. Anything I have in my arsenal to throw back when he starts giving me shit is always helpful. The neighbor bought a second unit in Hell for his college-aged daughter. I've only met her once. Very briefly. Jill's not the sharpest kid I've ever seen, but a cute little blond thing who is clearly the apple of daddy's eye.

Luke felt I should know that he'd walked into the (community use) fitness room to find Jill doing the nasty with some "big, black buck". I swear that's how he put it to me. Maybe I shouldn't say it quite like that, though... Anyway, he managed to apologize for walking in on them and left quickly. About a week later, he saw her walking into the fitness room, dressed in street clothes, as he was heading to the elevator to get something he'd left in his car. When he got downstairs, he saw the same black man waiting to take the elevator upstairs.

I am so not in charge of this shit.

There is no way I want to deal with the sexcapades of the residents. So, I thank Luke for the explicitly juicy gossip, steal a glance to make sure the coast is clear, and flee to my car. Before I get there, my cellphone is ringing. It's yet another of the minions of Hell.

This particular guy actually works at the Pentagon and rents his condo out. Joe is a very cool guy. Especially for a military guy. But his politics are quite liberal and he and I love to gab about that stuff. I answer the phone and he says "How are things at the 'Gay Mecca'?". This is his pet name for Hell, since, out of 22 condos, 5 of them are occupied by gay couples. (Which is one of the reasons that Biff was so popular around there.) Now this guy doesn't have a problem with homosexuality. He is just amused that so many of them found their way to Hell. (Don't even start, Nate!) His call was on an issue that was completely a-sexual in nature. (Related more to parking lot issues with his tenants than anything else.)

So, I beat it outta there, while I had the chance, and spent the next day around the office. Not your typical day in Hell. But it's never dull there. That's for sure. And if I didn't know it before, I know it now. Hell is not rated PG-13. And it's NOT for children.