I’ve had a
really hard time not being homeless lately. Seriously, in the last calendar
year, I’ve been homeless on two different occasions for periods lasting over a
month. I can’t tell you what wonders it does for your self-esteem. In my
defense, the first time I was homeless wasn’t my fault. It was Sandy’s. She was
a vicious, life-sucking bitch from which there was no escape.
The second
time? Yeah that one was totally my fault.
I decided
about 7 months ago that I was ready to live alone. My sister decided to move to
Norway to find a Scandinavian to make babies with or some shit, and meanwhile I
had just gotten a new job. I said to myself, I said, “Danielle, it’s time to
move on up, and move on out.” I think the people walking by thought it was
weird that I was talking to myself. Hey, all the more reason I need my own
space, right?
So moving in
New York City is basically the worst thing that will ever happen to you. They
say it used to be divorcing in New York that was the worst, but I don’t buy
that. Apparently until 2010, New York didn’t have no fault divorce, which meant
that one party actually had to accuse the other of cruelty, abandonment or adultery
and the other had to either defend themselves or forfeit like babies. Personally, I wouldn’t
have a problem with this concept at all.
On the contrary I'd have had a blast with it. I once dated a guy who was so terrified of being alone that he generously
overlapped me with my replacement. Another guy suffered such a profound
emotional short-circuit that it would have actually been quite entertaining to
watch had I not been on the receiving end of it. Flying to Italy next to an
empty seat was the cherry on that shit show.
Anyway, had these guys been
husbands, I would have used those divorce accusations like various seasonings on
a rare slab of meat. I would have sold tickets and had Playbills drawn up for
the court proceedings.
So, yeah, moving is absolutely the worst thing that will ever happen to you in this
city. Just so I'm clear, the list of things you’d rather have happen to you includes (but is not
limited to) being bit by a diseased subway rat, falling asleep on the subway and ending
up in Queens, being publically tarred and feathered, and accidentally showing up
to work naked.
Why is moving in New York so awful? Glad you asked.
First off, just to start the party, you need 1st month, last month, security deposit AND a broker fee
(which is usually about a month and a half’s worth of rent. I shit you not).
Really, all the good apartments are listed through brokers so it’s not really
worth attempting to get out of this. Some broker houses are no-fee. I found an
apartment through one once. I nearly wept with joy. Anyway, you also need a
bunch of savings on top of all that money so the landlord doesn’t freak out
that you might lose your job and be shit out of luck. Also, you need to prove
you make 40x the monthly rent. If you don’t, you need a guarantor (cosigner)
that makes 80-100x the rent. ALSO, you have to use movers because, well, it’s
New York City. All this on top of the fact the rent is bullshit high. Like,
ungodly, are-you-kidding-me high.
It was about
2 weeks into the apartment search when I found myself on the subway, quietly
sobbing over the 43 shitholes I had seen so far. Here I am pushing 30, working
my gnards off, and what does it get me? A fleabag you wouldn’t put your cat in (you will note that I forgot my big-girl panties that day). It was that day that someone told me I ought to look into co-ops. Apparently
renting from a co-op is very cheap because the application process is so long
and tedious that few actually attempt to do it. Meanwhile the unit owners just want a
steady tenant who will stay as long as possible while they hold their
investment so they charge pretty reasonable rates. What this clown didn’t tell me is that applying to a co-op board
is like applying to have someone look up your internet search history in front
of you, before you’ve had the chance to erase it all (“Well we see that you
take a lot of interest in the personal life of Alexander Skaarsgard. Would you
tell us more about that please?”).
Of course
not yet knowing this, I took his advice and found a great place on Central Park
West and 83rd in a historic building not too far from the Dakota.
Suddenly, things were looking up. I found the secret! While everyone else was
looking at 6th floor walkups with no kitchen and a family of roaches
living under the mini-fridge (cockroaches FLY in New York by the way, it’s the
shit nightmares are made of), I was looking in one of the oldest and nicest
buildings in New York, RIGHT on the park. Yes
ma’am, I thought to myself, I finally
got a piece of the pie.
It turns out
that the first thing you have to do when applying for a co-op is actually sign
the lease. The co-op board then has to approve the lease. Then I had to pay a
deposit.
Then I got
the board packet.
The board
packet is basically a 25 page handbook on how to hand-deliver someone your
identity on a silver platter. With the sheer breadth of information this co-op board
has on me, stealing my identity is the least
of my concerns. These people could probably buy foreign real estate, sign me up
for the Army, or adopt a child with that information. Honestly they probably
have enough information to find a way to get
rid of all my information and wipe me off the grid. Even better, I had to
make 8 copies of the finished application packet. 8! Some disgruntled intern at
the managing broker’s office is buying fake Rolex’s from China with my credit
card right now, I can just feel it.
Anyway, I
turned in 3 months of full bank statements, an itemized list of every
asset/account/IRA/401k/social security/etc., 5 letters of recommendation, one
personal statement, a resume, my job contract, 2 years of FULL 1040 tax
returns, details of every credit card/gym membership/Netflix/Time Warner
account, and a pile of recent pay stubs. The owner of the unit was really
nervous that I wouldn’t get accepted (she only gets to submit one applicant per monthly board cycle) so she emailed/texted EVERYDAY with “suggestions’
for little tweaks and clarifications here and there. I believe I burst into
tears over the phone with her at least twice. One time I tried to back out and
was totally willing to lose the deposit. She gently reminded me that the board
would shove my application through and I would be financially liable for the
entire lease anyway (talked to a lawyer: yeah, they can do that).
Now I had my
shit to them before June 1st, hoping for a July 1st move
in date. As of June 27th I hadn’t heard a thing. As of June 1st,
I have been homeless. It’s July 3rd (still with me?). The board finally got back to
me on June 28th and agreed to interview me on July 2nd, a day after I was to move
in. Technically the lease was void by this point, but I figured, what the hell?
It’s the last step and I’m going to have to find another place anyway. Plus,
unless the board formally declined me, the owner lady was not going to give me
my deposit back (I think she honestly thought she was legally entitled to it
even if they approved me next fucking February).
Anyway, I sat down with two
members of the board last night. One guy was a litigator in my field of work
and the other was a Harvard MBA banker lady. The building is like a networker’s
wet dream (gross). So I bit my tongue, talked shop, and awaited word. I figured
I’d hear in a month or so and would be resigned to couch surfing until then
(read: friends love this).
Well, as of
this morning I heard the good news, I got the damn place! Thing is, my shit has been in
storage for well over a month now and to tell you the truth I can’t even
remember what the apartment looks like, or what it feels like to have my own stuff. I’ve been living out of a suitcase,
subleasing a place in Brooklyn up until the last few days when that lease was up and I had to resort to couch surfing (to those who have housed me: you know who you are. You people are god-like). Unfortunately I can't move in right away. I’m flying home to Redding for a few days and then I move in on
Monday. Regardless. I’m glad it’s finally over.
I just want
to say that if you ever decide to move in or to New York, make sure you have no
shame, a lot of extra cash lying around, the patience of a saint, and the
emotional apathy of one of my ex-boyfriends. If you pull it off without at
least 4 serious bouts of stress related heartburn, I commend you. You are a
better man than me.
Oh hey, look! The
board just sent me a memo detailing the move in process. Apparently there’s a
$400 move-in fee. Great!
Also, Check out my Victory Song
