I have always had terrible luck with housing, and in New York, one of the most expensive places for renters in the world, the experience has been horrific.
This time last year, I had moved 3 times in about one month--from I-House to Brooklyn, from Brooklyn back to upper west, and then to another place in upper west because the former had been infested with bed bugs. I've stayed around Harlem for the past year, and am ready to move farther down town, but the broker's fees make me cringe. New York City is one of the few places where renters pay the broker's fee, simply because there are too few good apartments. My brother will be paying about $550 for a studio in Philadelphia, near his school. A studio in Manhattan is around $1550. If you are lucky, you can find a studio for $1000, but there will usually be something wrong with it--like it doesn't have an oven, doesn't have a window, is in a dank basement, or doesn't have a bathroom (these are all examples of my experiences). And even then, there's a broker's fee on top.
Living with roommates will be somewhat cheaper--although still close to $1000 per room, unless you have more than 3 other roommates and one bathroom...or you're willing to be a "special type of roommate." In the past, I have had awful roommate experiences; not awful as in someone doesn't do the dishes, but awful as in one was a kleptomaniac and a pathological liar who got kicked out of our program, and another one was a heroin addict who got arrested for knife point robbery (who also might have stolen some of my items). Both of whom were from wealthy families and really did not need to be stealing anything from anyone (except maybe the drug addict since his parents had cut him off). Anyhow, the last experience really made me decide that I wanted to live alone. No more roommate drama.
I dreaded beginning the apartment search again--with talking to pushy (and sometimes rude) brokers, with searching online and weeding through the scams and spam postings, and with arranging appointments to view places. At least this time around I didn't have to meet random crazy roommates, like that old guy who had a wall of photos of all of the young women (he only rented to young women) who had ever lived with him, as well as a refrigerator taped full of R rated photos, or the hair dresser who spent 20 minutes complaining about how he had to break up with his girlfriend because she was a drug addict (and might come around the place looking for revenge).
This time however, I fell into a lucky spell, and succeeded on my second try. I had been looking at a studio in Brooklyn Heights, which was rented before I could visit it, and then came across a posting in Lincoln Square--for a little of $1,100! It's small, but good enough for my purposes, in a wonderful neighborhood, on the top floor, and it's rent controlled. No laundry or elevator in the building, but there is a laundromat next door, and I guess I'll just get good exercise. I called the broker multiple times, and didn't sleep well the night before because I was anxious about trying to reach the broker again in the morning. Sure enough, I kept calling, and finally he picked up. I booked his first appointment, and gathered my check book and all my materials (proof that I make more than 40 times the salary with pay stubs and letter of employment, last year's tax return forms) and ran downtown (since I'm at 125th, Lincoln Square is downtown for me even though it's technically upper west).
When I arrived, an older guy was already there, with his older girlfriend (or wife? It wasn't clear). He had gotten an appointment for 2 pm, but had decided to barge in on my appointment because, in his words, "if you want to get something in New York, you have to be aggressive." The broker let us both in to see it, and I said that I wanted it. He did too, of course. We both filled out an application, and the landlord would pick one of us. I was really upset--since he is older, I assumed he probably makes more money than I do, so the landlord would pick him. I ended up calling the broker, and shamelessly begging him to put in a good word for me--I basically said something along the lines of, "I always pay my rent on time, I'm really clean, quiet, and I try to help children with cancer for a living!" Shameless, I know...but I wanted my apartment search to be over so badly!
In the end, the broker said he pushed the landlord to pick me because it was my appointment time, and the other guy seemed "pushy." I'm so happy, that words cannot describe the elation that I feel. The best way to put it is to compare it with my dog, who gets so excited when we come home that she starts shaking and she kind of looks like she's having a seizure. If I were a dog, I would be having a joy seizure from signing that lease.
It's excellent timing too, since I am going to Senegal tonight, so I don't have to worry about it while I am there. This time, I will be filming for our advocacy project, doing follow up interviews, and meeting with government officials.
This time last year, I had moved 3 times in about one month--from I-House to Brooklyn, from Brooklyn back to upper west, and then to another place in upper west because the former had been infested with bed bugs. I've stayed around Harlem for the past year, and am ready to move farther down town, but the broker's fees make me cringe. New York City is one of the few places where renters pay the broker's fee, simply because there are too few good apartments. My brother will be paying about $550 for a studio in Philadelphia, near his school. A studio in Manhattan is around $1550. If you are lucky, you can find a studio for $1000, but there will usually be something wrong with it--like it doesn't have an oven, doesn't have a window, is in a dank basement, or doesn't have a bathroom (these are all examples of my experiences). And even then, there's a broker's fee on top.
Living with roommates will be somewhat cheaper--although still close to $1000 per room, unless you have more than 3 other roommates and one bathroom...or you're willing to be a "special type of roommate." In the past, I have had awful roommate experiences; not awful as in someone doesn't do the dishes, but awful as in one was a kleptomaniac and a pathological liar who got kicked out of our program, and another one was a heroin addict who got arrested for knife point robbery (who also might have stolen some of my items). Both of whom were from wealthy families and really did not need to be stealing anything from anyone (except maybe the drug addict since his parents had cut him off). Anyhow, the last experience really made me decide that I wanted to live alone. No more roommate drama.
I dreaded beginning the apartment search again--with talking to pushy (and sometimes rude) brokers, with searching online and weeding through the scams and spam postings, and with arranging appointments to view places. At least this time around I didn't have to meet random crazy roommates, like that old guy who had a wall of photos of all of the young women (he only rented to young women) who had ever lived with him, as well as a refrigerator taped full of R rated photos, or the hair dresser who spent 20 minutes complaining about how he had to break up with his girlfriend because she was a drug addict (and might come around the place looking for revenge).
This time however, I fell into a lucky spell, and succeeded on my second try. I had been looking at a studio in Brooklyn Heights, which was rented before I could visit it, and then came across a posting in Lincoln Square--for a little of $1,100! It's small, but good enough for my purposes, in a wonderful neighborhood, on the top floor, and it's rent controlled. No laundry or elevator in the building, but there is a laundromat next door, and I guess I'll just get good exercise. I called the broker multiple times, and didn't sleep well the night before because I was anxious about trying to reach the broker again in the morning. Sure enough, I kept calling, and finally he picked up. I booked his first appointment, and gathered my check book and all my materials (proof that I make more than 40 times the salary with pay stubs and letter of employment, last year's tax return forms) and ran downtown (since I'm at 125th, Lincoln Square is downtown for me even though it's technically upper west).
When I arrived, an older guy was already there, with his older girlfriend (or wife? It wasn't clear). He had gotten an appointment for 2 pm, but had decided to barge in on my appointment because, in his words, "if you want to get something in New York, you have to be aggressive." The broker let us both in to see it, and I said that I wanted it. He did too, of course. We both filled out an application, and the landlord would pick one of us. I was really upset--since he is older, I assumed he probably makes more money than I do, so the landlord would pick him. I ended up calling the broker, and shamelessly begging him to put in a good word for me--I basically said something along the lines of, "I always pay my rent on time, I'm really clean, quiet, and I try to help children with cancer for a living!" Shameless, I know...but I wanted my apartment search to be over so badly!
In the end, the broker said he pushed the landlord to pick me because it was my appointment time, and the other guy seemed "pushy." I'm so happy, that words cannot describe the elation that I feel. The best way to put it is to compare it with my dog, who gets so excited when we come home that she starts shaking and she kind of looks like she's having a seizure. If I were a dog, I would be having a joy seizure from signing that lease.
It's excellent timing too, since I am going to Senegal tonight, so I don't have to worry about it while I am there. This time, I will be filming for our advocacy project, doing follow up interviews, and meeting with government officials.
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