icon caret-left icon caret-right instagram pinterest linkedin facebook twitter goodreads question-circle facebook circle twitter circle linkedin circle instagram circle goodreads circle pinterest circle


String & can

I love my building, I really do. I even kind of love the half-assed repairs that the horrible, terrible George does. That is, I love that I don't live in an anonymous fancy place with, well, nothing to complain about. Nonetheless, I wish we had an intercom system that worked. This lame system has to have been his idea—maybe he was a Cub Scout in 1950. When we weren't around, he drilled a random hole into my wall from my neighbor's apartment.

Most people's intercoms don't work, buzz in a neighbor's house, or go off so loud the whole building can hear. The buzz-in option doesn't work either, so you have to go down & let in your visitor.

I guess I don't entirely mind because we didn't have an intercom at all when I first lived there. I was in back, which motivated me to get a phone right away. The people in front did the old key-in-sock thing, but I would have to run down & open the door after they called. When they installed the first intercom, Maggie ordered food to be delivered. She gave them our address then said proudly, We have a buzzer! We will buzz you in!

Now we're back to telling people to call. Not that anyone stops over without calling anymore.
Be the first to comment