Tuesday, 24 September 2002 | Get to know Sleazy

(See part I: Meet Sleazy)

I took a long lunch so that I could meet up with Sleazy and give him the rest of his money, re-meet the landlord(s), sign the lease, and so on. Of course giving Sleazy his money didn't present a problem (beyond psychologically), but then we left for the landlord's place. Right when we got in Sleazy's car, he threw a paper bag out of the car window. I sat there in disbelief, wondering Did I imagine that? Should I say something?, but before I could speak, he started telling me how it was good to "be nice" to people, such as my landlord, and that "being nice" will be the start of a "good relationship."

I never figured out which of the three women was my landlord. One of them liked me immediately (and briefly) because she thought I was Polish (I confessed that I wasn't). Oh, but you look Polish.

I sat down at a table in a crowded hallway, just behind the door, and started looking over the lease that was thrust at me. Right away I saw that the rent was $200 more than the broker had promised me. What followed was an argument between the broker and the three old women, all of whom were speaking a mixture of English, German, Polish, and Hebrew. Much of it was about the hardwood floors they'd installed, about agreements and misunderstandings, and all of it was about money. Then they turned to me.

Maybe if you see the place now, you'll pay the 200 more dollars.
I'm sure it's nice, but I simply can't pay that.
What do you do for a living?
Web design.
What?
[My broker:] Computers.
Oh, then you make a lot of money.
I'm sorry, I really can't pay that.
Why don't you move in with someone?
I don't have a roommate.
We'll find you a roommate. You can screen them.
Right.

In the end I agreed to an unusual arrangement where I pay the first six months at what I expected, and the following six months at what they expected, with the option to leave after six months. Or so they say. (Tomorrow I'm going to suggest that they write that down.)

Sleazy said he spoke with them after I left (I called him later to complain), and that the chief landlord had said she'd "see how happy [she was] after six months," which Sleazy took to mean that they may let me stay at the original price if they like me. I have no idea whether that's true. I do know that he said I could have a cat, and that on the lease it clearly said "no cats" (of course I only noticed that after I'd signed). I'm sure he's capable of making up lots of things. I guess I wouldn't be all that surprised if weren't allowd to move in until December, or if my apartment turned out to be in New Jersey, rather than in Brooklyn.

Reading the fine print of the lease on the train ride home made me feel distinctly powerless.

I'm glad I like the rest as much as I do.