I am well aware of the economic crises among us, it's rough out there. I can't go to the bathroom at work with out hearing about the doom and gloom. This home girl is just trying to pee and CNN is pumped in to talk about how the world is in the toilet. Pun intended. Knowing that the job market is tough, you would imagine that those that have a job are the best suited for that job. This is not the case, it should be but it is not. Not even close.
Case in point: our landlord who has a level 3 in English (1-10 scare, 4 being average and what the minimum one should accept as a basic standard of conversational English). You would think she would employ those who could at the very minimum assist her in the translation of issues. Guess what? Not so much. The handymen that Sofia (said landlord - who is described to appear as my Italian grandmother, if she were Asian) employees the most peculiar men. The most recent of which is barely at a level 2, but that's given him the benefit of the doubt. He is constantly on the phone, we think. He mumbles, we think. He speaks some modicum of English, we think. Between the blue tooth, the marbles in the mouth & broken English explaining what is wrong with the dishwasher or shower is near impossible. This might explain why both have been broken for months.
Today we heard a slight tap on the front door. We didn't know if someone was at the door or if our downstairs neighbor was drunk (again) and stumbling around. The dog wouldn't stop barking so C went down stairs. It was Yan (we think that's either his name or a word he uses to say hello) came unannounced, as usual. He is deathly afraid of the dog so while he is on the phone, ignoring the barking, coming up the stairs, he makes eye contact with the dog. Apparently he doesn't understand barking as an indication as there will be a dog coming from the sound he hears. He heads back downstairs and we can't understand what the heck is he saying. We figure step 1 should be to get the baby & the mutt locked up. I fence myself into the living room as Yan continues to mumble, Abelle yaps and babygirl screeches. He came in and out a few times, tracked mud into the bathroom and then said his goodbyes. An hour later, as Chrissy (that's what Yan calls him) is cursing that bastard for muddying up the bathroom the barking starts again. It turns out while we thought Yan was saying bye bye see you later - he was really saying he'd be back after going downstairs because they had the same problem (we didn't understand this either). After months of waiting, writing letters, leaving voice mails for my Asian Grandmother it ended up Yan left us with a working dishwasher (thanks be to baby Jesus / Yan) and all of our bathrooms working - so I guess, communication struggles aside it all got done.