Day 4: The Saulet Scandal

This was my original apartment. The one I didn't look at in advance, that I booked over the phone with ridiculous ease. It's the one that was way above my price range but was so pretty and clean and perfect that I thought it would be OK. 

This is also the apartment that when I went to move into it today was not the apartment for which I signed on the dotted line. 

Literally.

It was missing the balcony, the washer-dryer, and any level of cleanliness. There were dead bug carcasses all over the carpet. It had been hastily sloppily painted. Not all the light fixtures were attached to their stems. If you know me, you know I don't fear mess or dirt, but this was too much. 

I went back to the management office and told them that I think they gave me the wrong apartment. I showed the email that the rental agent had sent me, complete with the promised floor plan that had a balcony. The substitute rental agent's response? "Well, do you really need a balcony?"

I explain to her that it's not about "need", it's about them adhering to the deal that had been made. She explains to me that on the bottom of the print out floor plan says that there was no guarantee that the floor plan would match the actual apartment. I told her that I should have been told the differences. 

She got her manager. Her manager's response? "Well, do you really NEED a balcony?"

Yes, for twice what I was spending in New York City, for the promise that was made to me by your employee, for the fact the apartment is a shitty mess, and most importantly, because I'm paying the rent of the floor plan with a balcony, YES, I NEED A BALCONY!!!"

She offered to give me my money back and void the lease. I made them rip it up in front of me. 

This is the second apartment I almost took. The front of the building is gorgeous. It's on St. Charles' Avenue so would be amazing for Mardi Gras parade watching, but it felt like a highway motel. The exposed hallways were guarded by paint chipping rails. The ceiling were vaulted. That was a plus. It had two closets. Another plus. But it didn't feel right. It felt like settling and at $895 that included three out of four machines in the laundry room broken, I said I would take it.

But then when I stopped back at Dr. Anna's to pick up my certified check to exchange it at the bank, I finally stopped. This whole thing was spirally rapidly. So I called the management company, asked for 24 hours to think about it and went to check out another place in the Marigny (which was once described to me as the Brooklyn of NOLA).

I love this apartment. I love it so much I didn't stop to take any pictures of it. I called the landlord and left a message, borderline begging him for the apartment. There was a sign on a tree down the street from Dr. Anna's for an one bedroom. I drove over and called the number, realizing halfway through the message that I had given the wrong number. I also left the wrong number for the apartment in the Marigny. I called him back and he answered.

I apologized for stalking him. Told him I was a recent transplant who's apartment had fell through, that I lived in my last apartment for 7 years, was unemployed but at my last job for over 3 years, that I loved the apartment.

"I trust you. You can have it."

So, I have a new apartment. It's not a luxury rental like the last place. Smaller than the last place, it's been recently renovated. It has a dishwasher but not a washer-dryer. Who cares? I can move in on Monday when my movers *might* arrive and the landlord is a super cool small business man with hippie tendencies. The walls are already painted funky colors. Even better, it's almost $500 dollars less than the "shiny" place.

And my front door doesn't look like this:

I think I am going to be OK.