I recently had some hindsight revelations about ignoring the gut instinct.

First Blinking: Not “Business as Usual” Business:

Years ago, my husband and I were relocating to a new apartment complex.

Right from the jump, it seemed to be an exercise in red flags. We met the apartment manager; let’s call her “Lissy.” When we shook hands with her, it was like grabbing a limp fish. There was a passivity and an apathy to the introduction. It was a signpost of things to come, things we should not have ignored.

But despite Lissy’s fish handshake, we took the apartment. We called the movers, packed our way-too-much- stuff into boxes and believed this move was going to be good for us.

Eh, not so fast.

Let’s see how moving day went, shall we?

Around nine in the morning, as we gathered our stuff, and our spicy calico cats, we got a phone call from Lissy.

It turned out we could not move into the apartment that day… the agreed upon day, listed in our lease…on the first day of the month.

What? Why NOT?

She “explained” that the previous tenant had moved out last minute and left it in dire need of repair.

Oh, and Lissy was “sorry.”

Um, that lip service was pretty, but it didn’t change the fact that we had shelled out massive moolah for the movers that were scheduled to arrive at the new apartment and unload our stuff that day.

The train was leaving the station; it was already in transit.

So, after arriving at the leasing office, we demanded the apartment complex foot the bill for the extra move-in day. Our movers would need to shlep our way-too-much-stuff to a different location, a temporary squatter’s dwelling place, offered to us for the duration of the apartment’s repairs.

As I was on the phone, laying out the situation to the movers, I asked for Lissy’s full name. The movers would be in contact with her for the obvious payment arrangements. In response to my question, she only gave her first name. Like Cher. Like Prince. Like Madonna.

I quickly grabbed a business card I spotted on her desk and read her full name to the movers. My husband and I fought to keep our cool, as we were given the address to our temporary dwelling place.

Oh, and we asked if we could see the “in shambles” apartment for ourselves before we left.

Not surprisingly, Lissy told us “no.”

“Hmmm… Why Not?” (I silently simmered).

But we didn’t challenge things. We were exhausted and it was barely ten in the morning now. We just wanted to be squatters in our temporary home, surrounded by packed boxes, living out of them. We would have three weeks of this fun to look forward to.

Oh, let’s get started now.

“Hmmm… Why Not?”

What we do we do when you and I are stuck in moments of “Hmmm… Why (or Why Not?)”

We all have them.

Where there are question marks, there are usually some exclamation points.

We experience some odd behavior or interaction that JUST doesn’t track well. Our check engine light, known as our intuition, is blinking furiously, alerting us that all is not well, and certainly NOT to be trusted at face value. But we dismiss the question mark, the check engine light, the gut reaction that blares at us.

We often like to, instead, “explain” it away…

“Well, I’m sure it’s a simple mistake…”

“Anyone can have a bad day…”

“I’m sure my boyfriend and this woman are “just friends…”

But the simple mistake and the bad day keep happening over and over.

And we caught that boyfriend having sex with this new girl on our brand-new couch (adding new furniture insult to current relationship injury).

What is getting our check engine light attention?

And what are we refusing to admit or see?

It’s probably worth taking a second look, isn’t it?

More Check Engine Blinking: Outright Lies:

Okay, so back to the apartment saga.

Hubby and I are dwelling amongst our boxes in this temporary abode. Finally, we get word from Lissy that our actual apartment is ready, is fully repaired and is complete with angel choir to serenade our arrival.

Move-in day, take two then.

Our stuff travels from temporary dwelling place to “permanent” apartment home. Second time’s the charm, perhaps?

The day went smoothly, uneventful. No dishes were broken; we got the cable hooked up. Free and clear, hallelujah, right?

(Come on, you know what’s coming).

We moved in on a Friday. There were no leasing office business hours on weekends. I mention this because, first thing, when we woke up on Saturday morning, we encountered multiple cockroaches squirming around our cats’ food and water dishes!

How’s that for a welcome wagon?

After the initial freak out, my husband and I had no choice other than to ride out the weekend with our disgusting nocturnal roomies.

Did I mention how much fun it was to participate in this nocturnal activity?

Our sleep deprived states were further heightened as both of our cats were especially stimulated by these night creatures; they viewed them only viewed as their prey. One of our cats loved grabbing a roach in her mouth and whisking herself into our bedroom to drop her wiggly prey onto the carpet at all hours of the night.

Fun.

First thing, Monday morning, I phoned Lissy, bringing up the roaches.

“Oh, really?’ was her response. She seemed surprised.

I’d soon find out she was lying.

Liar, Liar, What’s on Fire?

We have all be lied to. But, at what point, do we override our instincts to willingly choose to believe the lies?

Primrose path. This explanation connects to that explanation… and so on, and so forth.

Yet, often, when we get to the end of the explanations, all that is left is a lie. What’s yours?

A relationship that’s been on the skids for years, only to have an explosion, confirming a lie?

How about a business deal that seems to be too good to be true, going exactly your way… until it sells you out?

How about that one person in your life you thought would NEVER betray you until one day, Hello, Judas?

Our check engine light detects the presence of lies, even if all we see are happy, uneventful truths and fairytale endings.

Our intuition knows better.

What does your intuition know, right now, that you are clueless about?

More Check Engine Blinking, More Lies:

So, I spoke to Lissy about the roaches first thing on Monday morning. She seemed surprised, but I was already suspicious.

We had not been able to move in on the original lease date because the previous tenant moved out at the last minute and trashed the joint. Uh-huh.

We were denied our request to see the trashed apartment before we spent the next few weeks in a temporary residence. Uh-huh.

And now, her innocent, wide-eyed reaction to the creepy crawlies. Uh-huh.

Nope. Not buying it.

So, I insisted on an action plan to rid the roaches. Not too unreasonable, right?

I was informed that the current exterminator they used would be in touch with me shortly.

Uh-huh.

Upon meeting this guy, I gingerly asked if he had been treating this complex for more than this “isolated” incident. He did not answer, but the pregnant pause and look on his face told me what I needed to know. This place was infested. Plus, when the exterminator arrived at our apartment, fellow neighbor tenants peeked out the doors and knocked on mine, asking when their apartments would be dealt with also.

Uh-huh.

Can you hear my boiling blood? Shall I put on some music to drown out its sound?

What I DID find out from Mr. Exterminator was that he had diligently been on the scene for the past three weeks.

The past three weeks.

Uh-huh.

Unbeknownst to us, the new, trusting tenants.

So, far, the extermination was not that effective, because, well, roaches. Night after night now, they were creeping nocturnally, keeping us up at night all night, forcing me to keep the lights on at night, so that they would be kept somewhat at bay.

Yet, the leasing office and our new BFF, Lissy, kept minimizing and downplaying how bad all of it was.

(Easy for you to say. You’re well-rested in your roach-free home).

Anyway, supposedly, the exterminator stepped things up. But the bug action continued. In fact, it got worse. Now, these night creatures were visible and crawling around during the day.

Especially unnerving was when the roaches were dazed and confused, crawling on the ceilings, right above our heads. By this point, I wanted to live outside, safely under the open sky. No danger of roaches pelting me from above that way!

This was not working. So, I called the city’s health inspector. This WAS a health and safety issue. Roaches can carry disease; they certainly weren’t hygienic. And we couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.

A couple of days later, a health inspection walked throughout our apartment and the ones nearby, including units one floor below us. While we’re all doing this fun walkthrough, I asked Lissy for a copy of the extermination order, set up a few weeks’ earlier. This followed on the heels of the health inspector, busting her on how she should have not withheld this information from us, as the new tenants.

She produced copies of the extermination order, and I discovered something “curious.” At the exact time of nine or ten in the morning, while we were in the leasing office, dealing with one-name Lissy, making new arrangements with the movers and temporarily being relocated, the exterminators were spraying creepy crawlies. That was why we could we not see that apartment. We would see the bug guy… and the corresponding bugs. We would catch Lissy and the entire apartment management company in a big fat lie!

It took us being displaced, being disturbed by our undeniably predatory feline cats, roping in a city health inspector, who subsequently, gave the apartment complex a hefty fine from that city, and employing an entomologist carpet bombing the roaches, all to shine light on this lie and work toward a solution.

If only we had checked all of the check engine lights that were insistently blinking. If only.

How Many Check Engine Lights Does It Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

It feels like the setup to a bad joke, doesn’t it? We keep getting signs that we somehow, keep ignoring.

The lipstick on the collar…

The hang up phone calls…

The person who never seems to be where they say they will be…

The multiple stone- in- our- stomach feelings as we try to convince ourselves that something is “okay…”

The Check Engine Light Means Business the First Time.

How many times do we need to keep experiencing this wrongness BEFORE we BELIEVE it?

Intuition is there for our safety: physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. The check engine light blinks only to get our attention and bring us to safety.

Something is wrong, dangerous, unhealthy.

Blink, blink! Pay Attention!

Unfortunately, that can be inconvenient. Scary. Messy. Not fun. Not what we want at the time. So, we talk ourselves out of the warning.

It’s nothing…

It’s my imagination…

It’s not that bad…

It’s too good to pass up…

On and on. You get the point. We all get the point. Yet, we all seem to have a habit of ignoring that check engine light.

My personal hindsight: we should have run from Lissy’s fishy handshake. We should have demanded to see the buggy apartment.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

We can all visit that land from time to time. I do. My passport is up-to-date.

Still, what happened cannot be changed. Bad vibes, lies, displacement, roaches.

But I learned what happens when you repeatedly hush the intuition that tells you to pay attention to something that is not right.

Therefore, overs the years, I have been learning to heed that check engine light. I pay attention when a person seems a little too hinky or creepy for comfort. I don’t hang around them. If a situation doesn’t feel right, for any reason, I no longer give it the “benefit of the doubt.” Doing so could be harmful to me now. I know that.

Each of us has our own check engine light; it’s not just bestowed on a lucky few. We can tap into what that message system is trying to tell us. It takes time and, yes, practice.

But you and I can learn the life lessons that are there for the taking, should we decide to take them up on their offers to teach us.

And hopefully, we can also avoid cockroaches in our futures.

Copyright © 2021 by Sheryle Cruse