Apartment Hunt Tale

The apartment I have is a perfect first place. It's quirky, bright, cozy, colorful, and a perfect combination of old-world charm and decent renovation. It was the first place I found after a month break from looking, the first one I went to see, and the only one I filled out an application for. But before resuming my search at the end of July, I spent half of May and the entire June looking at different places almost every day. Sometimes I'd cram three or even four apartments into a night, and some were good, but out of my price range. Others were just not somewhere I wanted to come home to after a long day at work. During my search I've met with various managers, situations, and owners... Below are a couple of my chance encounters.

Encounter #1
I walk past a charming red-brick in Belltown. The exterior is as classy and romantic as it gets. Clearly, the building holds a lot of history within, and as I pass it I imagine a cozy little place with mozaic tile in the bathroom, hardwood floors with a pattern, and red brick showing on one of the walls. The entry holds a sign "1 bedroom and studio for rent. See manager six doors down (arrow pointing in the right direction included.)" I start counting the doors. The sixth one is a small shop that sells something so old that I can't even tell for sure what it is. To me it looks like a hybrid of a camera, telescope, and shotgun. An archaic relic is standing behind the counter. I approach.

"Is this the right place to see the manager for the apartment building down the street?" "That would be me!" I turn on as much charm as safely reasonable to entice an older gentlemen without turning him into an older creep. He absolutely falls for it, and soon the relic is telling me the story of his daughter leaving her company, including all the juicy details of office rivalry, backstabbing, drama, and gossip. I won't name the company, since it's one of the huge ones based in Washington, along with Boeing, Microsoft and Amazon. All I'll say is that their coffee is GOOD.

Patiently I listen, smile, and nod my head for a good forty minutes. The unit in my imagination is totally worth the time I'm wasting. Finally, he takes out the key and murmurs the seven long-awaited words: "So... you want to go see it?" YES!!! We walk down the block to the building. We enter. A strong smell of old and garbage immediately penetrates my senses. We pass through what used to be a door into the hallway and the smell changes. Now it's smoke. I look around. Oh the judgments we make based on exterior appearances! How strongly they mislead us. The 120 year old building has clearly never seen any renovation. The carpet in the hallway, where there's still any left, is drained with stains of variety comparable only to species in a rainforest. A ghostlike creature slowly descends down the stairs and greets the manager without moving a single muscle on its face. I'm ready to bolt out of there immediately, but decide to stick it out until the end, out of respect for age and wisdom.

Age and wisdom proceeds to slowly walk to the unit, stopping at every turn to recount the many moments of its long life. Finally it lets me into the studio. I feel like I stepped into a movie. Into a horror 1920's silent film with an abandoned castle and Frenkeinstein looming around that is. A thick layer of dust and dirt is covering the floor and walls. There is spider web in the corners. The closet containing a pull-out bed is dark enough to hold hundreds of monsters who will surely come out and get you in the night. The paint on walls and kitchen... let's call them cabinets... is chipped to the point that it looks like graffitty on the streets of Brooklyn -- all colorful and dreary.

"I usually rent it out for $950 but I'll lower it down to $850 for you." Is he blind or in denial? And who the heck would be dumb enough to pay that much for a hole like this? The answer soon emerges as the relic tells of numerous raids that went through the building in search of illegal immigrants residing on its premises and drug busts. To be polite, I ask about the electricity bill. It's $150 a month in the winter. He's crazy. But once again, the reason emerges almost immediately as I inspect the windows and find that they are placed into the frame at somewhat of an angle. About 45 degrees I would say. Large enough of an angle to fit my entire hand through the "crack" between the frame and the window! "So, what do you think? You want it?" "I will sleep on it" -- my standard answer. No need though. All I want is to get out of the smelly, shady place. But my new painfully developed contact in the business of telescope-shotgun-camerathingys doesn't need to know.

Encounter #2
On my way from a friends house to work I pass another charming old-style building and imagine how cute it'd be to live in. (You'd think i've learned my lesson from the haunted house, right?) Low and behold, craigslist that day holds an ad for a one bedroom in my price range in that exact location! I don't waste a second, and make an appointment to see it that afternoon. Taking a risk of running slightly over the lunch hour, I arrive early to make a good impression and call the manager to let me in. No response. But I figure he'll be there by the time of our appointment. Exactly on the hour I call again. Nothing. But once again, the charm of the building is strong enough to glue me to my spot and wait, wait, and wait.

Twenty minutes later the manager calls me back, apologizing, and stating that he forgot about the appointment but can be there in ten minutes. O.K. I'd have to see the unit VERY quickly. Twenty minutes later he finally arrives. "I am SO sorry for being late, can I take you out for coffee or something to make up for it?" He's young, and not too attractive, but taking advantage of his immediate reaction I turn on my charm and get into the mode of playful dismay in attempt to get what I want. "And how would that benefit ME?" I ask with a smile. "I was thinking more like you should lower the advertised rent." He's game, and immediately takes off $50 a month. Score.

We enter the apartment, and its nothing special. It's not bad, but the pink bathtub (did Seattle go through an insanity phase or something? Who makes tubs PINK?!) and the water knob installed in such a way as to allow for hot water to only passively trickle out, makes me depressed. Unfortunately for the manager I'm not into cold showers. But he doesn't need to know. I tell him I'll think about it, and he asks again if he can take me out for coffee. I politely refuse one more time. He asks if I would like an application, and I politely agree to take one. We step into his office, and he once again asks if I'd like to have a cup of coffee, or lunch or something. No, I would not like that.

To keep the conversation going, I get on my usual safe topic of electricity bills. "Well my girlfriend and I have lived in a unit just like this for a year and it was no more than $35 for two months. But we moved to a bigger place now." Hmm... I wonder what she'd think about him making up his being late to our appointment by taking me out to lunch... I take the application, thank him, and proceed to leave. At the last minute he checks one more time if maybe I'd like to grab something to eat with him sometime. Oh the bond of loving committed relationships!