At this point we both had regular jobs and were making a bit more money, so we figured we could afford a higher rent if it meant a better neighborhood. So we found a place that was nice, a bit more expensive, but a much better neighborhood (at least when we moved in).
The only problem: we weren’t able to get into a new apartment right when our lease was up. We’d have to wait a month.
Our choices were to either pay the much higher month-to-month rent at our old crappy apartments, or to move in with Adam’s parents for a month and save some money. We went with option B.
Now we had a new problem: we had to find a place to put our stuff. So we rented a storage facility and waited for a month.
Finally, the month is nearing its end, and we get a call from the new place. There’s a problem with our apartment.
See, someone in the office had “accidentally” extended some guy’s lease for a month and the guy happened to be living in our future apartment. Great.
So, we’ve got a couple of options. They’ve broken their end of the lease, so we could go somewhere else if we want. But we’d put a lot of effort into finding this place and we didn’t want to have to pay new deposits at another place, so we nixed that idea.
They tell us, since they’ve inconvenienced us so much, they’ll put us in a bigger apartment for the first month of our lease (at the same price, of course), and they’ll hire movers for us. Hell yeah! Option B again.
So, we get everything set to move, but then we find out they’re only paying to move us once. We can decide if it’s for the first move (to the temporary apartment) or the second move (to the permanent one).
Now, we initially scheduled our first move-in day on a weekend so my parents could help us move. But since we were getting movers to help, I’d told my parents we wouldn’t need them after all. And – also because we thought we’d have movers – we scheduled our second move on a week day. So, okay, fine, I call my parents and tell them we need them again – to move us to our temporary apartment.
After living on the third floor for several months, we’d requested a first floor apartment at the new place – which we got. That was one of the reasons I’d felt comfortable asking my parents – who are both in their fifties and occasionally have back problems – to help us move. So before we agreed to move ourselves to the temp apartment and have movers for the permanent one, I made sure to ask if our temp place was also on the first floor. The answer was yes.
We go to pick up our temporary key to our temporary apartment on moving day, and the apartment number was 6305. Hmm. Logic and experience tell me this apartment will be in the sixth building on the 3rd floor.
I was livid. I felt like we’d been jerked around so much at this point, I immediately turned around and tried to go back into the office. Luckily, Adam stopped me, because there may have been bloodshed. He never lets me get into fights.
So my parents moved us into the temp apartment and we spent a month there, happy to be away from the construction and the gunfire. And then we were professionally moved into our real apartment a month later. And this apartment served us well for a couple of years.
But, of course, it was still an apartment. Which means we were sharing two walls and a ceiling with other people. And sometimes those people jumped up and down on our ceiling at 2:00 in the morning. And sometimes they slammed cabinet doors late at night. And sometimes they had loud parties at the pool just outside our patio – with a paid DJ.
Also, about a month after we moved to this place, which is right next to a major highway, the city (or state, I guess) decided our exit needed to be widened. Yes, that’s right. More construction. I wonder if it was actually the same crew, and they just followed us over.
Oh well. At least it wasn’t happening on top of the roof this time.
We were kind of looking for a way out. Luckily, our apartment’s management company was happy to oblige.
We’d lived at this place for about two and a half years, through two lease terms. So when this lease was coming to a close, we started to weigh our options.
What we really wanted was a house. We were in no position to buy it, so renting would have to suffice. We started looking, but we were still keeping an open mind to staying at our current place. Then the signs went up.
“Lock your doors. Take your keys. Hide your belongings.”
Yes, the same signs you see in mall parking lots.
They also started putting up “$99 Move-In Special” signs. I think some of our old neighbors came over.
Now we were pretty eager to leave. But money was still an issue, so we decided to talk to management to see if we could get a better rent rate. We decided that if we had to actually move to a new place, it wouldn’t be an apartment. But if we could get a better rate for where we were, we’d stay put. After all, we’d looked on the apartment’s website and noticed that they were now renting our floor plan at $100 per month less than we were paying. So we went by the office.
“Hey, guys, it’s great that you came in, we were just about to contact you about whether you want to renew your lease. We just wanted to let you know that we do expect a small increase in rent for that unit.”
“Yeah, with the housing crisis and the economy, we’ve got to offset our costs and everything.”
But on the website it says you’re renting our apartment for $100 less than we’re paying now.
“Oh. You checked the website. Um.”
“Well, we could give you a better rate, but only if we move you into a new apartment.”
So, long story less long, we found the duplex and moved in, thinking that sharing only one wall would be infinitely better than sharing two walls and a ceiling. Of course, it all depends on who you’re sharing with.
Come back tomorrow for The Crappy Apartment Saga Part Three: The Crappening.
The construction on our exit ended about a week before we moved out. Perhaps you can guess where that crew got their next job.