I got a call the other day from my hubby urging me to call the apartments where we just moved out. He told me that they said they didn’t have our keys turned in (but amazingly, they had everything else). He told me I should talk to Patricia.
I called up the old apartments, and I asked for Patricia. When I got her, I told her who I was and that we had turned in the keys on Saturday (a day early). I told her it was a huge ring of keys, like eight). She was quite quiet, like she didn’t want to argue with me, but that she didn’t have the keys. So, I began describing to Patricia the person to whom I gave the keys. I said that she had long blond hair, sort of frosty-like, and petite. She said “short long blonde hair?” I was a little confused, but I knew what she meant. She still wasn’t sure who I was talking about. I remembered that they girl had really long eyelashes, so I told her that, too. Again, she was quiet for a second, then she said “I think you are talking about me!”
I was very thankful that I didn’t say anything mean and was complementary. I think she was, too. In the end, she admitted that it was a busy weekend (being a holiday and all) and that we likely weren’t moved-out in the computer system, but the keys were turned in. I wish she would’ve checked everything first before accusing me of stealing the keys, but I guess worse things have happened (see post below).