7:45 am – I nearly scalp myself pulling my ponytail to tightness levels not seen before. The tighter the ponytail the tighter the ship I run. It is my primary source of authority.
8:00 am – I check my emails over my first Diet Coke of the day. I roll my eyes so hard I almost faint. Another pleb complaining about no hot water. I take the time to remind them they are lucky to even have a house in this property market.
8:15 am – 10:15 am – I partake in a deranged game of cat & mouse with the tenant. No one can dodge calls like I can. No one can hang up after so few rings like I can. I am a master of this game and rental rivers shall run red with the blood of those who try to get me to do something!!!
11:00 am – I review some rental applications. I almost start rubbing myself thinking about the 80 couples who rocked up to look at the 2×1 shitbox. No one has obeyed my advice to provide 10 years of rental references, a 10-page cover letter, an audition tape, and proof their pet has been ritually sacrificed. Oh well, all in the bin.
12:00 pm – another pesky phone call about a burglary. I tell them if they could be super duper rockstars and manage without a front door for a few days. They ring me up crying which only cements my belief they are being dramatic.
1:00 pm – organising a carpenter and locksmith has exhausted me. I decided to turn off all communication devices and listen to a series of motivational tapes about being the best boss lady I can be. I don’t own this realty agency but I act like I do.
2:00 pm – having given the tenant a window of 6 hours that I might pop over to do the inspection, I decide to arrive 30 minutes past said window anyway. The thought of them waiting for someone so important turns me on. God, that hand is creeping again!
2:30 pm – I live out my failed dream to be a case member on NCIS. During my crime-scene-esque inspection I noticed a number of mugs on the sink. As well as a cobweb in the corner of the spare room and grass 0.5cm over the standard I deem acceptable.
3:15 pm – I get to work crafting an email to explain just how disgusting I found their dwelling to be. See the letter is my slop bucket and I will be throwing it right into the trough of their email accounts soon. Filthy, disgusting swine. Why are they allowed to even exist?
4:30 pm – I always like to finish my day with a treat. So I call a valued landlord and advise them that they should increase the rent by $100 pw to cover their costs. They advise me that they own the place outright and their costs have not gone up. I tell them that’s not the point, it’s about my commission.
4:59 pm – almost hometime. Dissatisfied with the landlord only upping the rent by $85 I turned my focus to an end-of-lease clean. These ferals thought I wouldn’t notice the fingerprints on the oven glass. I advise them a full 5-hour house clean is necessary and will be taken from their bond.
5:00 pm – time to go home to my cats and recharge my property manager battery in the delicious aroma of feline piss and lean cuisine. I turn down a request for a date on Bumble. I could be busting his balls during a rent inspection one day. Why compromise that opportunity?
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