Upon returning to my apartment today, I opened the freezer door and found pools of water in my ice cube trays. And, of course, all of the frozen food I had was ruined, after I had just used a one dollar off coupon to buy two packs of veggie burgers.
I promptly called my mother to complain. I fought the urge to swear multiple times.
I headed over to the complex office and left a maintenance request. Trying to be civil yet firm, I told them that, as this is the third time in a month that the unit has been “fixed” and it is *still* not working properly, I want it replaced with one that works. “If I need to purchase my own,” I wrote, “let me know tomorrow and remove the old fridge.”
I’ll call them in the morning to be sure they found my request and to ask what their plan is. I see myself again fighting the urge to swear.