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The extent of my WRATH knows no bounds.
Feb. 3rd, 2004 04:17 pmI finally managed to get my supervisor to call my landlord and get my mailbox fixed. (To his credit, he didn't fully grasp the situation. When he discoverd that my mail is being put on a little shelf facing the street, he was plenty upset about it, and got right on the phone to have this fixed.)
For those who haven't been in the loop concerning this little drama, my Christmas packages, JET information, and mail from my fucking Grandmother is regularly stolen.
Quoth the landlord: Oh, moshiwakearimasen, Mr Kamiko. I'm very sorry to hear that. I've told and told the mailmen to slide her mail under her door. The thing is, in order to fix her mailbox, I'd have to fix everyone's mailboxes. But you should call the mailmen and tell them not to leave her mail on the street anymore.
THE BLACK, BILEOUS RAGE I AM EXPERIENCING KNOWS NO. FUCKING. BOUNDS. The landlord, to whom I pay $500 a month for the "privledge" of living in his noisy, roach-infested, decrepit apartment building in the middle of the red light district (I've had two men come to my door because they thought I was a prostitute) can't be BOTHERED to fix my mailbox, and so MY MAIL IS REGULARLY STOLEN.
It is not the JOB of the mailmen to walk up for storeys of unshoveled, external staircase to deliver my mail. It is not POSSIBLE for anything larger than a sheet of paper to be slipped under my door. As the ONLY FOREIGNER living in the building, my mail makes a nice, obvious target for anyone hoping I'm being sent money in the mail. (PS: They scored a bunch of stationary and some gloves from my Grandmother's Christmas package. Merry-fucking-Christmas to you, too. Hope you enjoyed those presents as much as I would have.)
And the kicker? This is Japan, so I'm going to have to resolve this little problem without anyone losing face.
That will be fucking all.
For those who haven't been in the loop concerning this little drama, my Christmas packages, JET information, and mail from my fucking Grandmother is regularly stolen.
Quoth the landlord: Oh, moshiwakearimasen, Mr Kamiko. I'm very sorry to hear that. I've told and told the mailmen to slide her mail under her door. The thing is, in order to fix her mailbox, I'd have to fix everyone's mailboxes. But you should call the mailmen and tell them not to leave her mail on the street anymore.
THE BLACK, BILEOUS RAGE I AM EXPERIENCING KNOWS NO. FUCKING. BOUNDS. The landlord, to whom I pay $500 a month for the "privledge" of living in his noisy, roach-infested, decrepit apartment building in the middle of the red light district (I've had two men come to my door because they thought I was a prostitute) can't be BOTHERED to fix my mailbox, and so MY MAIL IS REGULARLY STOLEN.
It is not the JOB of the mailmen to walk up for storeys of unshoveled, external staircase to deliver my mail. It is not POSSIBLE for anything larger than a sheet of paper to be slipped under my door. As the ONLY FOREIGNER living in the building, my mail makes a nice, obvious target for anyone hoping I'm being sent money in the mail. (PS: They scored a bunch of stationary and some gloves from my Grandmother's Christmas package. Merry-fucking-Christmas to you, too. Hope you enjoyed those presents as much as I would have.)
And the kicker? This is Japan, so I'm going to have to resolve this little problem without anyone losing face.
That will be fucking all.