Whew I’m pooped. Not from the comic so much, but because last week was draining as fuck! Me and the guys moved the studio and it was no joke. For those that didn’t get to visit the Loveless Studio, let’s just say you had to climb a few stairs. Now when we moved in, we didn’t have much stuff and about every month, we’d add some new big item and bitch and moan for like a day, but be cool pretty soon.
But since we were moving out, with a deadline (as these things typically go) we had to carry all that big shit out, down all those stairs! I don’t know if you guys know my interns, but collectively we all fusion dance to form a skinny dude still. It was nuts, lol. But luckily we got more help and shit became a reality.
So you would think that was where the pain and suffering ended. No my friends. Let me expound upon you why I urge no one to go the Uhaul on Peter’s street in Atlanta.
So, before we move our stuff I rent a uhaul. Upon renting, since we are downsizing I know we can’t possibly take all of our stuff to the new studio, so I decide to get storage until we can figure out what to do with some of the nicer items that we don’t have room for yet. I make reservations for the truck and storage.
The day comes to pick up the uhaul and the desk girl that evening was pretty nice. I told her I had storage too, and she said that they were closing soon so I may as well get the key the next day when I returned my rental. I’m like cool. No issue.
So the move happens and the next day I hit the studio (that means go to the studio for those that don’t know the lingo…follow along), pick up the uhaul, gassed that bitch up ($3 because I drove like 11 miles total), and get to u-haul on time. The outside guy checked me in and said I’m all good to go inside and settle everything up. He was cool. No beef with him.
Now I go inside and there is a bit of a wait because I got up hella early so I could rest before my appointment and such. I have an hour to unload. I’m dead on schedule to get two whole hours of rest. A luxury in my life. So after ten minutes of watching the two desk girls entertain some girl trying to sell them stolen goods (common in the hood. Still not bugging) one of the girls finally asks to help me.
Lemme set the scene… You ever seen someone who really doesn’t give a fuck? Like I know a lot of us aren’t partial to our jobs, but I’m talking really don’t give a flying fuck. That was this girl. Her hair wasn’t done. Now that I think about it, it was one of those little struggle pony tails that was held together with a rubber band, the little beige one that I’m sure isn’t helping her cause of flowing ponytail magic. Her uniform was a bit messy like she didn’t iron, typical shit. I’m kinda big on looking professional depending on your position. If you want better you have to be willing to dress the part you know. Like if I’m in charge of promoting, I’m not going to give the job to the girl who comes to work all messed up looking? I’d upgrade the one who treated her position like it was important because newsflash, that means you’ll treat the next position great too (can you tell I’m a bit peeved?)
So I tell her my name and that my uhaul got checked in. She looks on the computer and says it hasn’t been. I tell her the guy says I was set. She said “Well it’s not showing up” like I lied or something. I show her my keys and even point to a security camera saying that’s my truck. She looks and says it doesn’t matter because it’s not showing up. So she calls for the guy to confirm and says we have to wait.
Again, not tripping. I got about 40 minutes left to stay on schedule. I tell her I reserved a storage room and we could go ahead and get that straight while we wait.
Spoiler alert: shit is about to get fucked up real fast.
She starts typing. She can’t find my reservation. I tell her I made it the same day I made my Uhaul reservation and the girl the day before found it. She said she still couldn’t find it. I’m thinking, is she logged into the uhaul computer at all? So I show her my reservation on my phone proudly. She says… “Well it’s not showing up on the computer so that doesn’t matter”… At this moment, I start to feel I’m being punked. Follow along.
She then asks her coworker for help. She comes over and says here it is.
Apparently my reservation expired.
She told me it was set for the day before and expired that night. I told her the desk girl told me that it was best if I just get it in the morning. She said she didn’t update it so my unit was gone. I’m like damn, ok so can I get another one that’s close? At this same moment someone yells that the elevator is stuck again. Let me explain how all of this correlates to each other.
In the days of google reviews I’m no idiot. This location has some piss poor reviews. But a constant I was seeing was that the elevator jams frequently. It was too close to the old and new studio to use any other location so me being Mr. Smarty, as well as Mr. Everyone deserves a shot, decides if I get a first floor unit then all of those problems are solved. So I reserve a first floor unit at a good price for convenience.
Back to the future.
She tells me she’ll see what she has available and since my reservation expired, I had to put in a new order for the new room. So she asks me my info. Now for those that don’t know, when you type in your info, it’s quick. You know it all. You just let your fingers go to work. But if you have to tell someone, who doesn’t even want to be at work, and who seems to not be listening to you, such a simple task goes from taking 3 minutes to 15. With tons of “spell it out’s” being asked (is Ledge Hill one or two words……………it’s two…kill me please).
So I pay and she hands me my key and lock. She then informs me to just take the elevator to my room.
“Elevator? You have to take an elevator to get to the first floor?”
“No your room is on the 4th floor.”
“Wait. I wanted one close to the old one. There is nothing on the first floor?”
She looks at me crazy and it’s clear she is fed up with me, but I keep my cool. So she checks and shows me there are no first floor units left…
Now at this point, I’m starting to feel some type of way. And to add insult to injury, when she told me, I think she said it really hard because I could smell her breath, and it was not pretty my friends.
It’s like the dragon in her mouth was trying to sum up my whole experience.
So still, trying to salvage what I could I ask could she at least get me something on the second floor because I read reviews and wanted to steer away from the elevator since as we knew from the screaming guy, it breaks. I explained to her I wanted CONVENIENCE.
She looks at me and says you have to get on the elevator anyway so that doesn’t really matter. She wasn’t budging. I paid money and yet I was being treated like a chump (“read- bitch”).
For those who have had the pleasure of meeting me, I have an extremely long fuse when it comes to blowing up. I felt at that moment, my fuse had finally started to be ignited, but I wasn’t at my breaking point.
So clearly it doesn’t get any worse than the fact that I went from a first floor room to the top floor, all while losing 40 minutes of my allotted one hour unloading time. I still kept my cool, so I came out on top right???
This is only half of the fucking story…
For the sake of me needing to sleep, I’ll tell the rest on the next comic post.
Oh shit!!! The comic post! Well I’m telling you guys all of this because it is a minor miracle that this post is even up because I didn’t get to work on the comic last week at all really. But it’s here and Angel is handling his new infatuation by stalking, and what girl doesn’t like being stalked. Let’s see what happens Thursday!
PS: I actually excluded a few panels on this page that will be in the printed book because it flows a bit better on the screen like this, but they are cool panels. Don’t be too surprised if when you guys get the printed book one day that you find tons of hidden panels and shit. Now as always ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.