I went to inform the leasing office of my aptartment complex that there was a crack in my tub. My room mate had pointed it out, I would have never seen it.

The leasing agent wrote "Tub cra" and scratched it out. She wrote "Tub crac" and scratched it out. She wrote "Tub crak" and for a third time scratched it out. She wrote "Tub cr." She asked me, "How long has it been cracked?" I said I didn't know.

She gave me a look like I was the biggest idiot on the planet.

I'm thinking a woman who doesn't know how to spell "cracked" has no right to give such looks. I told her I wear glasses, but I take them off to shower so I can't see the crack, my room mate mentioned it to me.

She laughed at me as an adult might laugh at a child who is telling a story with too many details and said, "that doesn't matter."

I wanted to flick her forhead.

She asked me what my apartment number was. I was thinking I'd help her out by making it very simple. I said, "Four Zero Two."
She began to write as she spoke, "4 . . . "
I said "Zero Two."
She said "4 . . . "
I said "Zero Two."
She said "4 . . . "
I said, "Zero Two, Four Zero Two. FOUR ZERO TWO!"
She looked at me and asked with raising intonation "Oh two? four-oh-two?"
I said "Yes, four-oh-two." I guess that whole zero bit threw her off. I should have known when she couldn't spell cracked.

They must try hard to find the biggest dummies alive for that job. The first leasing agent I talked to wanted to be sure I made at least "ten hundred" dollars a month before I moved in.