I was going through my old blog post and found this old post I had written. I had a blog through blogger and thought that I’d post it again. I have been through some crazy things in my short life, I thought this was interesting so I re-posted it again.
At the time, I had just moved into my very first place with my beloved boyfriend. In the month of September, year 2015 we got somewhat settled in, and although I should be happy, my happiness didn’t last very long. You know that saying, “My landlord is crazy,” or “I don’t like dealing with my landlord because they never x, y, z,” well my landlord has dementia (I’m not a doctor or anything but I looked it up, and she has all the signs. Or maybe she has something else wrong with her, but something is definitely wrong).
My boyfriend and I were endlessly looking for a new place, we needed to get our own space because our roommate — who was an elderly over obsessed, clean freak that complained about everything, especially, on how long I took showers. She said I made the bathroom too “steamy”
— was getting on our damn nerves and we couldn’t take it anymore. So for six months straight, we looked at apartment after, apartment, after apartment. The one thing, among many things, that’s annoying about NYC apartments are the requirements, “You need 700 or better in credit and make at least $44,000 annually. And if you want to have a guarantor they need to have their shit together twice as much as you do.” Dude, I’m only twenty-one and ain’t nobody got time for that. We got discouraged often and was extremely stressed out because so much was happening at once; the deadline to move and coming up with the money.
One day, my real estate agent called and said that she had a one bedroom available, all utilities included, and plus it was in a private building. My boyfriend and I weren’t really excited because we had seen so many places already, we weren’t trying to get our hopes up. The next day we stopped by the house and it was very decent, I mean some things needed to be fixed but for the most part it was a nice starter apartment. After our visit, we contacted our real estate agent and told her that the apartment was a keeper, she told us to come back to her office and we signed the paper the next day. Our landlord was so sweet when we first met her, she had a creole accent and was of the elderly type, she told me that she doesn’t like to bother anyone and was very cool to talk to. We moved in as quickly as possible and it was nice, the location was amazing and we felt at peace… and then, the bullshit started happening.
The first day before we moved in, we cleaned and I mean we cleaned this place down until it was spotless! Right when we were close to finishing, we heard a knock on the door, *bang, bang, bang*, “Who is it?” My boyfriend said walking to the door. “Its me, the landlord”, so my boyfriend walks to the door and opens it and she continues, “I have a question, who sent you because I never received the deposit money.
I only received the first months rent.” “We used (agency name), did you try calling her?” My boyfriend said. “Can you call her, I don’t have her number.” She said confused, we call the real estate agent and she walks to the house — her company is down the block from our new home. “Yes, what seems to be the problem?” The real estate agent seemed to be a little upset. “I didn’t received the deposit money…” “Yes you did! I sat there and counted it with you three times before I gave it to you, and you sign a receipt!” The real estate agent was annoyed but we didn’t know what was going on, so the landlord went outside and came back and her whole tone had changed, she started apologizing and said that she had split the money and set it somewhere else. We all looked at each other as if to ask what just happened, but everything was settled, so we all just proceeded on what we were doing. The month of September was cool, she did ask us a couple times where the deposit money was but we just reminded her what happened and she would leave us alone.
October came around and just when we thought everything was settled she came to us again, “Ah, hello? Yes, your wife (as in me) only give me $800 for the rent money” She told us through the door. We had a door in our apartment that connected the top and bottom half of the house. So whenever she wanted to talk to us, she would just often bang on the door, and speak her peace (it was highly annoying).
“Are you kidding me right now? You’ve got to be joking, I’m coming to see you right now.” My boyfriend said as fire came out of his ears.
“No, no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She said walking away
“Nah, we got and issue now, don’t come at me and then try to take it back. We’re going to talk face to face.” He took off his house slippers, put on some boots and his jacket, walked outside and knocked on her door — word of advice, don’t live in a private house where your landlord lives… unless you live in a big ass building with other people. She answered and they had a little argument — not really though, he was just talking to her — and she apologized.
November rolled around and everything was good, until the middle of the month, she knocked on our door and asked us if we were moving out.
“No, we’re not moving out… why?” I said confused.
“Where is my rent money?” she said slightly angry.
“We paid you already… you don’t remember?”
“No you didn’t, you did not pay me.”
“Do you know what today is?” I said baffled, I wasn’t sure if this lady was playing a joke on me or what but, I wasn’t laughing.
“No I don’t know.”
“Do you know what year it is?”
“No I don’t know,” She said confused.
I was so exhausted at this point I just told her, like I told her before that we paid her already. This lady continuously, knocked on our door and ask about the rent money. In the early weeks of December, around the 10th or 15th she would wish us a happy new year and then proceed to ask in the same breath, where the rent money was. When going back to the real estate agent and telling her our situation she told us that cheap apartments such as $1,000 to $1,100 are no longer available. One bedroom apartments are either $1,300 to $1,400 now, even studio apartments are $1,200. For a piece of box… is $1,200?! I had no other option then to grab up one of these expensive ass apartments just to get away from this lady.
It’s funny though, because I speak to people about this situation and some other people I’ve talked to, told me that also, didn’t have a great experience in a private home. So word of advice, if you’re moving to New York, never, I repeat never! Move into a private home.
With Love & Sweetness,