The Landlord

This morning, as I was rushing to see the Marathon Men, a man steps out from the laundry room with an orange box in his hands. I have never seen this person before in my life, but that didn’t stop him. He looked at me and asked: ‘Is Brian awake?’. Is (Brian awake? Who are you?!) He asked again, pointed at the orange box and said: ‘I’m going to bomb your apartment today’. By now I was completely lost. A man from the laundry room that looks like he’s from Philippines is telling me that he’s bombing our apartment at 8.30 am. What a great way to start your day. ‘No, it’s 8.30 am Brian is definitely not up. Nor is Mike. Try again in two hours or so.’

So I had heard about ‘Louise’ the landlady. Turns out that Louise is ‘Luis’ and he’s not from Philippines, but from Chile. He’s not the landlady, nor is he a transexual landlord either. I have now learnt that our landlady’s name is Christina and that Luis is the building supervisor with the ability to bomb apartments. When you  ‘bomb an apartment’ you throw in gas canisters that poisons the air and kills all bugs and rodents.

You learn something new every day in the land of opportunity.

David Brent dancing

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