Thursday, March 3, 2011

Backing Out Isn’t Just For Leaving A Parking Space

I got an email from my property managers up in Rhode Island two days ago letting me know that the folks that wanted the second floor were supposed to sign a lease that day (a day after the first floor lady signed hers).  Instead of signing it, the folks instead said that they had found a different place to live.  Instead of living in that place, they offered me a deal.  They wanted exclusive rights to the driveway for parking, and the right to live in the second floor for a year, for $700 per month. 

That’s ridiculous.

They said that they found a place nearby for $725 per month, with ample parking and one more bedroom and were willing to take it.

I actually gave it some thought, instead of dismissing it outright immediately, and decided that I should have dismissed it immediately.  I offered $700 per month for rent with no parking exclusivity. 

They are going to live in that place nearby.


In check news, Traveler’s sent the check out to Richard Who Hands Me Money.  Hooray.  Richard Who Hands Me Money mailed out the check and I should get it soon.  Hooray again.

Now?  Some Puerto Rico fun. 

My wrist still hurts, so no scooting yet.  Because of this, I was forced to rent a car yesterday in order to start a good, old fashioned door to door job hunt.

I picked up the car early in the morning, went to a hotel to print out a bunch of resumes, grabbed my list of local golfing establishments and got to driving.  I first headed over to the Dorado Beach Resort & Club, a collection of 72 golf holes in Dorado.

I headed into the pro-shop and talked to the clerk there who let me know that I needed to go to the Human Resources office for any job inquiries.  The Human Resources office was a few minutes down the road, down a crappy dirt road and next to an active construction zone.

I got out of my awesome, periwinkle blue rolling embarrassment (Hyundai Brio) and tramped into an office.  I stood there for a few minutes with no one acknowledging that I existed and finally talked to someone.  They said that the golf HR office was in an apartment around the corner.  For real.

I walked around the grounds of this construction zone, found apartment number five half knocked on the door and cracked it open gingerly.  I walked in to an empty office.  Or apartment.  Or whatever.  I sat down in a chair in what might have been the living room and waited for fifteen minutes.  Nothing.  I heard some noises on the second floor of the apartment (in the bedrooms probably), but didn’t venture up there because there was a sign that said “Accounting” and pointed up the stairs.  I decided to head out to the next place, then come back to this office and hope that someone was actually employed on the first floor.

The second place that I went was the Dorado del Mar, and 18 hole course five minutes away from Dorado Beach.  I had already emailed this place, as they had a Golf Pro Assistant position posted online (thanks Paul).  I , of course, had heard nothing back from anyone there, but at least I had something to talk to someone about.

I talked to the woman in the pro-shop, who sent me upstairs to the administration office.  I talked to the woman in the administration office, who looked confused and sent me back to the pro-shop.  Obviously. 

When I was back in the pro-shop, the Golf Pro was actually in there, so I got to speak with him.  Of course, the Golf Pro Assistant job was filled, and had been for a month, and they weren’t hiring for other stuff, but the Pro told me that he’d send my resume and cover letter and info around to the other Pro’s he knows around the island.  I thanked him and headed out.

Back to the Dorado Beach Human Resources office.  Still empty.  I sat for another fifteen minutes without seeing anyone.


I gave up and started the trip to the next place.  On the way, I got a phone call from Amanda, so I picked her up and we both went looking for jobs together (she’s looking for one at a hotel or something like it).

We visited the following courses/hotels:

Here are the results of those visits:

  • “Go online and apply.”  That means, “go online and apply; you will never hear from us because we answer emails more slowly than your grandmother, who, if I’m not mistaken, is dead.”
  • Left my resume and applied
  • We weren’t even allowed into the resort.  It’s an $800 per night hotel.  See first bullet.
  • This place looked super dumpy, so I didn’t go in.

After that, we came home.  it took a very long time to go to these few places.  People here in Puerto Rico really couldn’t care about their jobs any less.  It’s maddening.

In better news, the Golf Pro at Dorado del Mar finally got back to me, after I sent him another email this morning, with a few email addresses for the Pros at El Conquistador (too far away for now), the Wyndham Rio Mar and the Trump International.  Hopefully those direct emails will lead to an email back.  I doubt it though.

In other Puerto Rico news, this is the fellow that lives in the building across the parking lots from our building:

Wrist 4


In even more Puerto Rico news, these little jerks wake us up every morning over and over screaming at their stupid bird-mom for food:

Wrist 9

Filthy baby pigeons.  They hatched a few weeks ago on the ledge outside of one of our bedrooms windows and have been getting progressively louder and more annoying every day.  And filthier.  I have no idea how long it takes for new pigeons to fly away, but I really hope, after two weeks of being awakened by screech-tweets, that it is two weeks and three hours.

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