Furniture, Exit Signs, and Fees

I learned a lot today... Most of it would have been really useful if I had learned it prior to today, but I learned it nonetheless, starting with:

(1) furniture delivery guys operate on a clock that is 48-148 minutes behind everybody else.

I have to believe that the problem is a standard issue clock found on all delivery trucks. I also noticed that the guys didn't wear watches (Touche, Mr. Delivery guy, I don't wear a watch either, but i don't make vague promises like "I'll be there between 11-2" and break them). After they show up fashionably tardy, I learn:

(2) my building has a front desk girl who wanders around at designated times "checking things"

I know this because my delivery guys happened to be delivering stuff during one of her walks. She claims they "knocked down an EXIT sign". You know, the kind that they have in large buildings that are back lit and red and say "EXIT"? Yeah, those.
So I'm standing in my apartment trying to direct traffic and keep an eye on things when one of the guys comes in and says "there's a lady who wants to talk to you downstairs, she says we knocked down an EXIT sign". Now, I'm generally an optimist, but that's sort of disheartening, so I follow the dude downstairs. The elevator opens and I see that the EXIT sign is not knocked down at all... simply one of the covers has been removed and rests against the wall. Fine, a two second fix, I'm already on it. However, then I learn:

(3) my building is governed by a shadowy group of people known as "The Board".

Ok, so immediately after assessing the sign situation and before I have time to act, I see two people: Front Desk Girl and Mean Old Lady. Mean Old Lady is the one who wants to talk to me and, after I ask "what seems to be the problem?," begins by demanding who I am, where I live, and what I'm doing there. I still don't know her name or much about her, except that she is one of the underlings on the Quincy Park Subcommittee on Falling Signage.
So after I try to identify myself, say I just moved in and live in 306 and have a lease, she says something along the lines of "We don't have a record of you. We don't have a move in date. You're not supposed to be here." She then goes on a rampage about how damaged the sign was (again, it is not damaged, just the cover is removed) and I ask, politely, "Did you or anyone see them do it? If so, I am sure they are insured." Mean Old Lady takes offense and goes into orbit, at which point, I learn

(4) there are policies regarding moving in, a move-in fee, and more policies regarding the ingress of furniture.

So, not a big deal, I figure, right? I mean, sure, I point blank asked my landlord whether there would be a move in fee (I have it in writing via email). Sure, I asked specifically how to go about moving in myself and my furniture and sure, I had used the loading dock before (apparently I missed walking around girl's patrols). Apparently, I had done all of that wrong (which I was able to decipher through a series of Mean Old Ladies alternating rants and exhales of disgust)... I should have filled out papers, paid some kind of deposit (on what, I was never exactly clear). This is too big for an underling from Subcommittee of the Board... they need the president... stat... which is when I learned:

(5) my building has cameras that can record the halls.

So, no more naked strolls for me. As it turns out the Board President is a pretty nice asian dude with long grey hair. He says "we'll just review the tape" to which Mean Old Lady explains why she's just a member of the Subcommittee when she says "oh yeah, that's a good idea" and then promptly disappears. I don't know why she disappeared, but she did... I was not sad to see her go.
Board President is now, appropriately, more interested in me as a rogue tenant than the clearly disassembled, not broken, sign. Ok, so he needs a copy of the lease... fine, I run and get one, have them copy it, send the delivery guys on their way (after pointing out that they brought me the wrong thing... don't worry they said, it'll be shipped out when I get the rest of my furniture... I tipped them, they left). Next, I have to write a $250 dollar check for the "move in" fee... even though I'm already moved in and disrupted no one. I then call the landlord to see what's up, which hips me to the fact that:

(6) Landlord has disconnected her cell phone.

Shit, I think. I really am a rogue tenant. Damn me and my infernal need for objects upon which to sit. Sure the floor is hard, but it never outed me to the Man.
Somewhat frantic, I search the lease for another number, find it, and to my great relief the landlord picks up. I explain to her what has happened, she gets very upset. I get to the part where I gave a copy of my lease to the front desk, she gets even more upset. It had never occurred to me that:

(7) the lease contained personal information that Landlord does not want the Board to have.

Fuck. I'm in some Orwellian type bullshit. The condo owners are afraid of their government, the condo government is afraid of their condo owners... Which leaves me, the guy in the middle, to go back to the front desk to ask for the lease back from the girl who works there. It turns out:

(8) they keep the leases in a locked box.

Ridiculous. Made more so by the fact that this isn't really an impediment because front desk girl has a key. She claims she can't give me back the copy, though, without specific Board President approval. She gets on the phone with Landlord. A heated discussion occurs. I'm standing there saying for the hundredth time today "I'm just doing what I was told. I had no way of knowing any of this. I'm just the guy who signed the lease."
As of this moment, the Staffman has a date with Board President for some time tomorrow to exchange my registration information for Landlord's original lease. It's like some kind of document hostage trade and, frankly, I'm no Jack Bauer. If paper's gotta go down, paper's gotta go down.

I would like to point out that, throughout all of this, I never once said "look, bitches, I'm a lawyer..." followed by instructions. I think this means I'm maturing as I learn.