In which I learn the true meaning of "unbelievable"

It's after midnight. I arrive home in Montreal after a few weeks absence, to find the cheesy-overpriced fingerprint lock on my condo's door has been replaced with a hotel-style card reader lock.

I investigate more fully. Every lock on every door in the building has been replaced with a hotel-style card reader lock.

I have some problems with this:

• It's not a rental. It's my @#$!#$ lock that they stole. I actually paid extra for the cheesy-overpriced fingerprint lock, which is precisely how I know it's overpriced.

• The card reader lock does not have a keyhole nor a fingerprint reader, and I do not have a card to read.

• In my mailbox, I find no notice whatsoever that this operation had been planned or executed.

• The new lock is very poorly installed, in keeping with the shoddy construction work that has characterized this building all along. (Luckily, the contractor who built the place has high standards, and repeatedly sent each worker back until they did it right. So it's great work in the end. But he obviously hasn't seen this new crap yet.)

Naturally I break in (to my own home) through my other door, which has a perfectly normal easily pickable lock that completely defeats the purpose of the cheesy-overpriced lock I no longer have. I didn't have to pick it; since the last time, when my cheesy-overpriced lock decided it didn't want to let me in anymore, I make sure to carry a key for the perfectly normal lock with me at all times.

I come in.

Everything inside is normal.

It's the middle of the night.

I don't even know the superintendent's name.

I've lost his phone number.

It's time for bed now.