Let's just try that movie again tomorrow.

I'm currently watching Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey, also known as What the Hell Am I Watching?

I came home today to find a notice on my door.  I have had to train myself not to think the worst when this happens, because it's never bad news anymore.  No "loud bass" or "you ran over the sprinkler head," not even an illegal cat.  So far, all the notices have been window replacement related or free basketball tickets, and I got comfortable with the idea that I am not poised on the edge of trouble anymore.

But this notice was stapled shut.

Ah, the inevitable noise complaint.  You know I like to sing, but I have not been playing anything very loud.  Besides, it's never after hours.  This notice was addressed to the whole building, so it's not even necessarily me.  Furthermore, the complaint is "excessive noise."  How unspecific can you get?

First of all, goddammit, these are apartments, not libraries or museums.  Why do people expect silence?  People LIVE here, which is why I don't ever complain about them.  They listen to music, they slam doors, the have visitors.  I don't understand what the problem is.  I don't envy people who live on the bottom floor, but I have had people live above me too, and you can hear footsteps, and sometimes it sounds like a herd of elephants.  And?

Second, who the hell is complaining about noise without even identifying which apartment it's coming from?  What are we supposed to do with this notice?  File it under: Well, Clearly This Doesn't Apply To Me.  Who makes a complaint about an entire building?  I don't know if I need to turn my movies down or if somebody is blasting their music while everyone's at work.  I haven't sang at home in a while, or I'd suspect it's me.

This is the quietest apartment building I have ever lived in.  After they replace the windows and doors, it's going to be unbelievably silent.  As it is, the front door is the only direction I can hear anybody else in.  When I'm at my door, I can hear damn near what everybody is doing, but not once I go in my apartment.

When I moved in, the guy downstairs introduced himself and invited me to let him know if his music ever bothered me.  Exactly.  Knock on the frigging door if it's really something you can't ignore, but nobody's doing this at 3am, so what the hell is your problem?

Then again, if in six months, this is the worst complaint I have about this place, I guess I'm doing okay.  See, this is why I need my blog.  I am such a whiny asshole until I can come here and put it all together.  I think I know how I feel until I get it written down and omigod THERE'S all the understanding and forgiveness and empathy and optimism that I was starting to think I just didn't have.  I don't feel like deep down I am really an ungrateful, complaining asshole, but that's what I present- a lot.  I love that Joe Walsh song for a lot of reasons, but mainly the line

I can't complain, but sometimes I still do

I would love to get to sometimes.

I got a lot more calls today.  It was really busy.  I tried to calm myself and answer the phone.  People who call are generally neutral or suffering some horrible ailment or watching their loved one suffer.  You have to summon empathy quickly and equally while doing a monotonous, repetitive job, and repeat that eighty times.  Many people are friendly and so grateful for the help, but of course it's those few turdy ones that stick out, and doubtless they have good reason to be turdy.  Many of those people would not be turdy if it wasn't for a convoluted system.  Very often, you're trying hard to help them and they think you're trying to make it more difficult.  Sigh.  But this is the tradeoff, right?  Here's a solid, reliable job with steady pay, benefits, and holidays.  Lots of people don't have that.  So in order to keep myself sane, I must continue to learn, and that means a different job.  I am going to have to do what's hard for me, and that's keep my resume updated, have those KSAs written and wrangleable, and put myself out there like the Little Prince with his net, waiting to catch a ride on the next comet.