Fuming!

Of all the inept, unprofessional, half-brained nitwits in the world, I think the boy and I have been lucky enough to land the queen bee as our property manager.

She is so gloriously incompetent that she makes Tony Abbott look like someone who could be trusted to run a country. This has earned her a special spot in my fictitious rocket of people I'd like to shoot into space. In fact, I think she's been bumped up to take a seat in front of Lara Bingle (and anyone who cares about Miss Bingle's life...although I'm yet to find a single person outside of a group of "news" reporters that falls into that category).

I'm not going to get into a long diatribe over her (our property manager's) shortcomings. Don't think me selfless, it has nothing to do with your comfort or interest, I simply do not want to spend a week pounding away at a keyboard listing them all.

I will say that she might be the closest creature the world has to a dodo - and perhaps sheds some understanding on why early explorers had such few qualms about beating them to death. Although I believe the dodo would have been much cuter and wasn't (by any historical account I can find) ever put in charge of a property portfolio.

I will treat you to an example of the ineptitude we've dealt with for 11 months:

Recently Mark rang up to ask her for our rent BPAY number. Her response was: "oh that's not my problem....look on your bank statement, I'm sure it's there somewhere".

Yup.

Anyway when I started this blog I was furious about her lack of professionalism and how dimwitted simpletons like her could be put into a position of any sort of power. But the thought of her being stuck on a rocket with Kyle and Jackie O, Lady Ga Ga, Shane Warne, anybody who doesn't understand the concept of allowing people to exit a lift before ploughing in and several thousand other celebrities, politicians, sports stars and other class-A morons, has magically made me feel better. Hail the power of imagination!