Not Moving? Oh Yes, You Are!

Not Moving? Oh Yes, You Are!

When I first started working at my new location, I was like a fish out of water—two buildings, dozens of tenants, and not a single familiar face. One day, while I was busy mopping the hallway, my property manager called.

“Lily, I need you to deliver a Notice to Enter for Mr. B. Smith in unit 1001, Building B. We need to do his pre-move-out inspection,” she said.

Now, this was back in the days before smartphones. I had a Motorola, but it was more of a pocket brick than a handy device. Writing notes on it? Not a chance—or maybe I just didn’t know how. So I committed the information to memory.

After finishing my mopping marathon, I went to the office, grabbed the big ledger book (because, yes, back then, we logged everything on paper), and made the notice. Unit 1001. Mr. Smith. Done. I confidently delivered it.

A few hours later, my office phone rang.

“I got a Notice to Enter, but I’m not moving,” said a man who sounded more confused than annoyed.

“Are you in unit 1001?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Then you’re moving out, and we need to do your pre-inspection,” I said confidently, like Sherlock Holmes cracking a case.

“No,” he said, his voice rising, “I’m NOT moving out.”

“Well,” I replied, full of conviction, “are you Mr. Smith?”

“Yes!”

“Then you are vacating at the end of June!” I declared, as though his own denial didn’t matter.

By now, I could hear the poor man’s patience unraveling. He nearly shouted, “I AM NOT MOVING OUT!”

I realized I might’ve been missing something, so I left the vacuum in the hallway, went back to the office, and flipped open the ledger.

“Wait a second,” I asked cautiously. “Are you Mr. B. Smith in unit 1001, Building B?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I’m Mr. A. Smith in unit 1001, Building A!”

Oh no.

I stared at the ledger, horrified by my mistake. Same last name. Same unit number. Different buildings. What were the odds?!

I apologized so many times I lost count. “I’m so sorry! It was my mistake! What a coincidence, same last name and unit number!”

The man sighed but eventually chuckled. “It’s fine, as long as you’re not evicting me.”

“No, no, you’re safe!” I assured him, laughing nervously.

After fixing the notice and delivering it to the right Mr. Smith, I called my property manager. “Just so you know, I messed up, but I’ve fixed it,” I said, bracing myself for her reaction.

She burst out laughing. “Lily, I can’t stop picturing the poor guy yelling, ‘I’m not moving!’ while you confidently insist, ‘Oh yes, you are!’”

Fast forward six months, and Mr. A. Smith walked into my office with a huge grin and handed me his notice to vacate.

“Hi, Lily. Here’s my two months’ notice. Now I am moving!” he said, grinning ear to ear.

As soon as he left, I laughed so hard I cried. That incident had taught me to double-check everything—names, unit numbers, building letters, and maybe even planetary alignments!

Lesson learned: in property management, mistakes happen, but if you own up to them and laugh a little, even the biggest blunders can turn into funny memories.