Got a good email the other day from my landlord.
One of our tenants was accosted and robbed behind the building in the evening. Tenant stated that he noticed that the back door is very often propped open with a brick with no one in sight. It is not for just a quick smoke, etc. PLEASE be very careful with propping doors or letting strangers in the building. The security doors are provided for a reason. A police report has been filed.
Okay, robbery is not a good situation. One does not ever desire to be robbed, but if you ever are the victim of a robbery, you would at least hope that you would have support and sympathy from your fellow tenants. I did not immediately think this way. (Hope that I am not your fellow tenant.)
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the he wasn’t hurt. Especially because I work with criminals; I know how this shit can go down. Robbery is usually code for “I’m just going to ask you to hand over your money, but if I fuck it up, which is highly likely because I am too dumb work for my own money like the majority of the population, you will at least get shot. And maybe die.” In this case, I happily stand corrected.
But this email also disturbed me on other levels. Personal levels. What disturbed me most of all, is that if Robber gets in the apartment, it would be my apartment that would be invaded. This is a known fact. I must accept it. Prepare for combat. Here’s why.
You see, “behind” the building IS nearly my apartment. My apartment is on the first floor, on the backside of the building, Tenant got robbed literally 10 feet from my living room, in between the stank Dumpster I smell from May to September and the withering tomato plants Landlord waters once a month and yet can’t figure out why they have no will to live. So Robber is on the prowl. Tenant happens to be outside, and the door happens to NOT be propped open. Robber takes the easy access Tenant and avoids the building. For now.
But Tenants statement that the door is always propped open is accurate. I have noticed this too, but I never really thought about it. I didn’t know I was dealing with Robber. So the night that Robber is around, and there are no lowly Tenants to be found, and that door is propped open, I’m the next victim. Here’s why.
As I said, I’m the south east back corner of the building. On the south west corner of the building is a hippie. So when Robber enters the back door of the building, he will have two doors to choose from, mine on the right and Hippie’s on the left. “But wait,” you say, “it is likely that Robber is not a Tenant himself (dude, I know that they are stupid, but most don’t shit where they eat) and therefore does not know firsthand that Tenant on left is a Hippie.”
And you would have been correct, until this last Tuesday. Described by what only I can conceive as impeccable timing, Hippie Tenant bought a Hippie Welcome Mat to place in the hallway outside his door. Seriously, it has all the low grade hippie qualities one could ask for; uneven, loopy edges, a rough, abrasive feel that reminds you it has been ten times recycled, and a loose, earthy weave of some rattan/hemp blend that could be fashioned into an eighth grade quality joint should your stash run low before pay day. All that is missing is some rustic emblem for the nearest no kill shelter, or the vegetable pickup location of your local farming co-op, but that doesn’t really matter because I’m pretty sure Robber doesn’t take time to stop and smell the roses or read a dumb little promotional advertisement. The point is, from this mess of a rug, you know Hippie is a hippie.
And even the Robbers don’t steal from Hippies. Hippies somehow secure a soft spot in the heart of humans. Even if you can’t understand them, you admire them. Even if you are suffering, you feel that they’re suffering similarly, if not more, and the fact that they pretty much do it by choice is quickly dismissed. Poor little hippies, you think.
And even if they don’t own a spot in the heart of the Robber, the experienced ones, the ones who have perhaps mistaken a hippie for a suburban rich kid trying to piss off his parents and accosted them, know they don’t own anything worth taking. Even my plain little no-mat door front, looking like a place that has a 50/50 chance of being uninhabited and barren is more promising than a welcome-matted hippie lair.
Hippies = 1.
Amy = 0.