So five days later, 6 phone calls, one from Daddy Rex, and still no cooling in my refrigerator. Now let's review the situation. I was kindly informed on Sunday that refrigerator melt-downs did not classify as an emergency. Ok, so my water pipes have to be exploding or I must be breathing in carbon monoxide to get any assistance? Fine I thought for sure they would take care of it on Monday. As I waited for the queen of landlords to respond to my phone calls I just became bitter. You see I am one of those health food nuts, the kind that buys organic flax-seed stuffed pitas, Fage yogurt, and other random organic foods so you can imagine my dismay as I began tossing my malodorous rotting food from my inferno of an ice box. This is where I would like you to imagine sweet Jen, the girl who can't pick a fight, transitioning into MAD DOG PASKO.
Tuesday morning I had had enough. Dragging my two garbage bags of rotting food into their office I was there on a mission. I told them I wanted to speak to Brenda, the owner. I would like to take this opportunity to create a picture of Brenda. A 50 something year-old woman, hirsute, with little white hairs coming out of her chin, approaching morbid obesity, with salt and pepper hair, and a rather large mouth. It is a wonder I didn't run away when she stepped out of her office to greet me. Yet, I wasn't there to be friends. I just remember I was hot-to-trot. "At one point I asked her what she wanted me to do with all my rotting food?" She replied, "Well, its cold enough you could have put your milk outside." Oh hey Brenda-baby, maybe if I was Laura Ingalls Wilder that thought might have crossed my mind. I was infuriated. So then I began to raise my voice, and so did Brenda. It continued to progress like this until we were both screaming at each other. Then I just got tonked off, because for the first time in my life I felt a kind of discrimination I had never felt before.
You see Brenda talked to me like I was her 13 year-old child, or an imbecile. Although I am a well-educated reasonalble woman, If I would have been a man with the exact same problem I would have never been treated that way that I was. The reverse discrimination I received from the woman was so alarmingly shocking I left the rental place trembling. When I reached the safety of my own car I began to cry. I am one of those women in life who believe they can do it all. I can use a hammer and nail, mow a lawn, and have no reason to be dependent on a male for any reason. However, leaving Hallmark Rentals that day I realized I had so much to learn about how the world operates.
Which brings us to today. You see they fixed my refrigerator(supposedly). Yet, three weeks later, yesterday to be exact, I wake up and of course my new bag of peas are small squishy balls in the bag and my milk smells like rank socks. Oh yes, so I call and just say my name and the woman on the other end of the phone asks me, "Are you the woman who brought her rotting food in?" So perhaps I am sort of a legend at Hallmark Rental, almost like a David versus Goliath sort of story, but all I know is that in the end I have won. I am over joyed to announce that today I will be receiving my new refrigerator; and nothing will make my day more than to tell them to send the bill to Brenda, the big bad landlord.