IMO (and experience), it’s mostly about what will amount to the least hassle for whomever it is you’re dealing with. If you go apeshit and rocket over their heads to take down The Man Behind the Curtain, the midlevel clowns will let you go nuts (since the fight has essentially passed them by) and TMBtH has forever to wear you down. So, you do what you need to in order to keep your apartment manager in the middle of all of this, so that she’s the one begging Bob at the central office for a favor in dealing with you as opposed to you demanding Bob’s number so you can (impotently) threaten Bob’s job.
My advice is to go to your apartment manager and spell it all out for her with nary a hint of a threatening tone. Show her you’ve got the goods on her and her stupid company. Get her on your side. See if she’ll call up Bob and you guys can conference call, or something. Use her as a means to amicably get to Bob, instead of cutting her out (which will just rebound back to her and every month you remain there will be a pain in the ass - for you). Don’t be rude to Bob, either. Unless he, you know, makes you. It’s like Patrick Swayze said: “Be nice. Until it’s time…to not be nice.”
It usually works for me to come at people like “Welllll, you know, having a maintenance guy come into my patio and destroy equipment I paid for without my permission are acts not covered in the lease agreement I signed, Bob. I don’t see a provision for a mandate that if this complex gets a deal with a cable company, that satellite TV is not allowed, nor did my placement of my dish break the guidelines written for its placement, NORRRRRRRRR is there anything, again, about reserving the right to destroy the dish I paid for in such case. Ask your administrative assistant to get you an Aquafina Bob, because we may be here awhile.”
Or whatever. The deal is to sweet talk your apt mgr into a threeway CALL THAT IS with Bob from the Front Office. Bob will fidget, she will look at your stern grill and being a noodle-spined lady averse to confrontations (even implied ones), she’ll haver to your plight (lacking the ol’ “Well, that’s what those crazy assholes at the Front Office said” dodge), plus Bob can’t volley the blame back into her face (“Well, I can only go on what Ms. Pickletits said, and she said you told her to jump into a grand piano case and garrotte herself on the wire when she asked you nicely to simply move your dish so it’s not obscuring the sign for your complex”) if she’s sitting right there. Usually, you get a smattering of “But I though…” “Well, I thought…” half-assed feigned confusion, and you’ll probably get a partial rent voucher or something. Take it, if it’s equitable. Then get the fuck out of that shithole complex.
Oh, and don’t forget to take a shit in the maintenance guy’s golf cart, that effing ball-licker.