i grabbed the men who stare at goats, fantastic mr. fox, and sherlock holmes. i figured that'd be enough to redeem the experience of recieving a crusty malkovich and european harold & maude.
"do you get commission for this?" i asked.
"no," he said, "i just don't get yelled at." that was, technically, the wrong answer because i would've bought the candy had he said he was getting a commission. the yelling part happens to all of us and i don't really care. oh well.
"ah," i said, "no thanks. can i see those dvds for a second though?"
when the clerk was ringing up each video, i could've sworn i'd seen a roaring tyrannysaurus rex on the cover of one. mentally, i scanned the potential plot-lines of each movie, looking for a reason there would be a dinosaur in any of the three. i'd seen fantastic mr. fox and while there were a number of animals in the film, i couldn't remember any dinosaurs. the men who stare at goats shouldn't have a t-rex. and sherlock holmes definitely shouldn't either.
he gave me the stack of dvds and-- sure enough-- there it was: a screaming dinosaur right on the cover of sherlock holmes.
"have you seen it?"
"no," i said, "i started it on a plane, but blacked out because of drugs. but it didn't seem to be heading in the dinosaur direction..."
"oh!" the clerk said, "you want the robert downey jr. version."
he was right, but in my book no version of sherlock holmes should involve dinosaurs. and no movie should have the same title as another in order to trick someone into buying a crappier version.
the important thing is i was not gotten. it was close, but i managed to escape blockbuster without being screwed over by a company. marketers, man. marketers.
of course i got home only to be welcomed in with this letter:
how can a company blindly mail me a notice to vacate? i moved in less than two months ago! my mind immediately went to reasons for potential eviction: perhaps they discovered i had stolen two doors from the basement and installed them in my bedroom, they realized we never paid a pet deposit for our particularly loud and greasy feline who enjoys destroying good shirts and running out the front door at any given chance, or maybe they smelled the plant-life simon sometimes burns for a night-cap...
i've been fucked before, but i've never been asked to vacate my apartment in under two weeks with no new apartment lined up. i mean, i've raised $899 in a month without a job and i've raised $1350 in two weeks similarly-- but this was going to be the bad news that broke me.
i called the management and left one of those "please call me back as soon as possible" messages with a firm voice. i explained in that message that i had no intention of moving out by july 31st and i saw no reason why i should be asked to.
in his room, travis strummed at his guitar, singing, "get out of your apartment. get out of your apartment. by the 31st!"
carmen the cat meowed because she was hungry again.
i shot her with my new nerf gun.
this one called for some beers.
travis and i got a six-pack of shiners (the beer, not the face-punch) because it was the cheapest and neither of us had tried it before. i put my nerf gun on the counter with the beer and took out my wallet.
"it's a stick up," i joked.
he stared at me.
this was not meant to be an awkward trip the liquor store, it was meant to distract me till i got a call back regarding my possible eviction. of course, the minute the clerk informed me of the earlier robbery, i noticed there were three men fixing a television.
initially, i'd thought they were maybe preparing it for a game or something-- in hindsight, it's clear they were scanning it for footage of the gunman.
sometimes i'm an accidental asshole.
after two beers, i called laramar sf urban apartments and was greeted by the accounting department.
"really?" i asked, "because i left my number in my last message. and how were you about to call me if you don't have my number?"
"yeah," she said slowly, "it wasn't in our files. we tried, though."
"that aside," i said, "i'm not planning on moving out of my apartment and was hoping you might be able to shed some light on why i received a notice to vacate."
"haha yeah," she laughed, "that was a mistake."
"okay," i said, "i figured that. but what happened?"
"oh, it was just a typo."
"a typo that resulted in the full and proper spelling of my name and address?"
"yeah, but just ignore it. everything is fine."
i suppose it's great i will not be evicted from my apartment at short notice, but i don't believe that makes "everything fine." this was coming from laramar sf urban apartments, whose slogan is "committed to exceptional property management."
typos that lead to accidental eviction notices are not what i call "exceptional" unless we're looking at it like "this situation was exceptional-- it doesn't usually happen." in that case, this was a quite exceptional experience-- least it better be.
"okay," she said, "we'll mail that right out."
"and please," i added, "make sure there are no typos. i really want to receive this letter immediately."
i've seen some typos, but i've never run into one that happens to coincidentally spell the entire name of someone who happens to live in the exact apartment you've mailed it to. but i couldn't squeeze any other explanation out of this accountant.
the best theory we had was brought on by travis-- suggesting laramar has a keyboard with our full names on each key, and while they may have meant to hit the "james dawson" key, they hit the "president wishnack" one instead-- you know, maybe they're right next to each other.
ridiculous.
between my failure with amazon, my near failure at blockbuster, and an accidental eviction notice, this blog is inches away from becoming "chaos, nonsense & tourists: the story of how president wishnack gets fucked by companies every single day and is quietly losing his mind over the entire thing."
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