Overtime for Naught

It all started on Thursday. My boss at the shipping depot called me and asked if I can work from 8pm until midnight. Having already worked all day at the bank job (6:30am to 7:00pm), it decided the money was too easy to give up and worked the short shift. This was just the beginning.

On Friday my boss at the bank job, Sandra, started her vacation. With her out of the picture, I had the chance to make copies of the upstairs unit of property Chi for Hanna. One problem: I couldn’t find them. I could have sworn that I put it in the cupholder of my car, but I found nothing. I tried every key I could find in the batcave but I had seriously lost the keys. To make matters worse, upon my last trip to try the keys there was an ambulance outside property Chi. The Africans’ uncle was brought out on a stretcher and his eyes were vacant, as if he just had a seizure or something. I was really pissed because it made it very awkward to ask for the security deposit. After some thought I decided not to ask for the security deposit right then, although myself and Brooklyn Mike made some great jokes on the phone about a landlord who wants his money no matter what. The best one was the landlord that went so far as to wait until 12:00.01am on the first of the month, and then bang and kick on the tenants’ door screaming for rent money. That night, I had to work until 4:00am because my relief was late. In all, I was up for over 24 hours.

Saturday morning, I had to call the locksmith to get the door open and replace the lock, which cost $120 (it would have been $90, but locksmiths charge extra for weekend lockouts). Hanna’s husband, whose name is also Omarion, gave me the security deposit and I was out of there. The people moving into the upstairs unit will be Hanna’s Omarion (let's call him Umar), Hanna, her two kids (I had no idea she had kids), and the uncle who was taken to the hospital. How five people plan to live in a 1 and a half bedroom apartment is beyond me, but immigrants have a way of making those situations work. I think it’s actually illegal for me to move so many people into a small apartment, so I changed the amount of people on the application from 5 to 3. I’m not sure whether it’s illegal or not, but I take no chances.

So all the overtime I made at both jobs get cancelled out because of the locksmith. All that work and staying up losing sleep was for nothing. My misplacement of two stinking keys cost me $120 and I’m pretty embarrassed. I have got to get more organized. Once I retire, I plan on changing all locks to electronic locks. They’re more expensive, but life is a lot easier with codes than keys. And once a tenant moves out, I just change the code and that eliminates the cost and the hassle of buying a new lock every time. Or I’ll just get the ones that are card readers. Once a tenant leaves, their card is deactivated and I can create a new one, having a master card that opens every lock all the while. For right now, I simply have to get better at organization. There has to be a place for everything, even in that dirty ass batcave I live in. I decided to put all property keys in the armrest of my GMC Jimmy from now on. In a month with so many expenses, an irresponsible mistake like this really hurts me and I don’t want to make the same mistake again.