Bring It.

Sunday, February 7, 2010
3:56 PM No, I didn't have today off.

I don’t have today off and I’m exhausted and I’ve got to be to Mike’s apartment in an hour, but I just need to express myself (…that last part reminds me of a 13-year-old version of myself – Can’t you just let me have my feelings???). Anyway, I have to say that I’ve found that living in New York has made me more assertive. I don’t know if it’s the new job or the city or living on my own or what, but something has changed. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I wasn’t exactly shy or reserved before, but this is different. Maybe it’s that “No Bullshit” policy I talked about in my list of New Year’s resolutions. Whatever it is… I kind of like it.

Example: Last night I was running the elevators for this show that I work at that airs live on Saturday nights (eh, eh?) and a guy in the stand-by line got out of line and started to mouth off. To me. I’ve never had kids of my own, but in that moment I think I got a taste of what it feels like to be a parent disciplining her child in front of her other children. All the other kids are watching you to see what you’re going to do, and it’s a make it or break it moment – you either earn their respect or lose it entirely. I won’t go into details, but I shamed him and sent him to the back of the line so fast he looked visibly shocked. I guess you don’t expect a little girl in a skirt to put you in your place, but I did, and I left the whole line wide-eyed and silent. And well-behaved. I didn’t have another problem the rest of the night.

And then there was the cable guy last week. He was sloppy, he was late, he was in a bad mood. But I was in a worse mood because he was sloppy and late and completely unprofessional. I’ll top your mood any day, trust me. So he comes in and tells me he’s going to install one box. I tell him I ordered two. He tells me I didn’t. And guess what? I don’t like when people tell me what I did and did not do. I told him to check the order. Of course, I was correct. He told me he only brought one box. I told him he better find one. And guess what? Magically, a second one appeared.

And finally, there’s my landlord. Oh, Julio. Why you won’t hire a freaking exterminator to come to my apartment building I don’t know. But I do know two things:

(NOTE: Are you guys sick of hearing about my cockroach problem yet? Are you? Really? You know what I’m sick of? HAVING COCKROACHES.)

1.) I am not paying for an exterminator. Especially for the entire building (because they’re totally coming in from other apartments). By New York Law, he is required to pay for an exterminator and take care of any infestations. I looked it up. Unfortunately, he’s allowed to deal with the situation himself, rather than call an exterminator, which means he rolls in with a can of Raid every time I call him.

2.) I am going to make his life miserable until I get an exterminator. Now, I call him every SINGLE time I see a cockroach. Daily, nightly, afternoonly (?). Whatever it takes. I am now in the habit of coming home at night, killing a cockroach, and calling Julio. It’s the Come, Kill, Call Routine. And I like it. You don’t want to call an exterminator? That’s fine. Because you can look forward to daily calls from me instead. BRING IT ON.

I’m realizing now that this may seem like a pretty angry blog post. And that’s the best part… I’m not angry! In all of the examples I gave, I was actually extremely polite and never, ever raised my voice. I smiled when the standby guy was being a jerk. I winked at the cable guy when that second cable box magically appeared. In the voicemail I just left for Julio, I wished him a "Happy Superbowl" and said that I was so looking forward to seeing him again this week. And I’ll continue to do just that.

After all, you know what they say…

Kill ‘em with kindness.

Love,
Tara