Well, to pick up where I left off many months ago--life has been rather chaotic, what with part-time work, full-time study, family obligations, and other dramas. My partner and I have decided to take the big adult step of living together, and have been searching for a rental property since the middle of June.
Pickings are slim.
Actually, let me clarify that by saying, pickings are slim ... if you would like a dwelling that doesn't have carpet from the 70s (bonus wet dog smell included!), suspiciously low ceilings with light fittings that threaten to take an eye out, "security" that consists of a piece of wood slotted into the base of window frames, or rooms so small they would make a hobbit claustrophobic, for under $400 a week.
Viewings find you crowding in with at least three other groups of prospective applicants.
You try to play it cool as you wander through the property and size up the competition at the same time. As you brush past each other in the narrow hallway, awkward smiles are exchanged; soon your application forms will be battling to the death. The place reeks of quiet desperation and new carpet.
We have an additional handicap in the form of a small pet. This rules out the "SORRY NO PETS" properties. No need to shout or leave out the comma, pal. I get it. But considering that a reason does not have to be given for rejecting someone's rental application, and that many people fib about not having pets and then smuggle them in later, why not say that pets are considered? At least you'll know what you're up against.
I hope rental vacancies pick up soon, but for now, the scarcity of decent rental properties seems to have had a flow-on effect on the attitude of many property managers. I shall refer to these as Property Managers Who Could Do Better. Please note that I have met nice, efficient property managers too, and if you are fortunate enough to have one of these gems, hold on tight and never let go.
What follows is an open letter to the Property Managers Who Could Do Better that I have encountered recently. I strongly recommend that they attend remedial charm school over the summer holidays.
My apologies to friends who have already been subjected to this rant.
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Dear Property Managers Who Could Do Better,
Why is it so hard to return my phone calls and e-mails? "I'll take down your details and he/she will call you back to arrange a viewing time," is the monotonal refrain from your receptionist. But my phone still remains eerily silent, hour after hour, leaving me a reluctant stalker who has no choice but to contact you again and again.
I have asked you simple questions like, "Does the property have a garden shed?" only to receive responses like, "It has a lock-up garage!" That is not the answer to my question, lady.
Another example:
Me: "Is it possible to connect to ADSL from the property?"
Property Manager Who Could Do Better: "ADS--what's that?"
Me: "High-speed Internet."
Property Manager Who Could Do Better: "Ooh, I've never heard of that before! Um, old people used to live in it, so ... maybe not?"
Me, in my head: Would a chimpanzee be able to do a better job than you? I think the answer is ... maybe yes?
And what is with that ridiculous deposit that you ask for at the time of application? Why is it called an option fee when all it does is LIMIT people's options?
Apparently, if someone fills in a ten page form divulging previous residences, payslips, employers and former employers, driver's licence and passport details, next of kin, and two personal references (in some cases, personal references AND work references), they are not serious about renting your pile of bricks and mortar.
Yes, that’s right, I’m just applying for this rental property for a laugh, beause there’s nothing I like more than spending my free time filling out tedious forms. Tra-la-la! What a lark!
On one occasion I did not receive a response to my rental application for a week and a half. This both puzzled and frustrated me. What kind of person needs more than a week to decide on a suitable tenant? With all the personal information I had provided, it should take you two days, tops, to decide if I could marry your daughter or provide you with a new kidney. In addition, after the application was rejected, it took another week and a half, and three phone calls before the "option" money was returned to my bank account.
In previous blogs (or perhaps just public ramblings) I have mentioned that I have a simple, fond dream; one day I would like to send a ship far, far out to sea with Keira Knightley and Bjork on it, and then hope that it hits an iceberg.
I have now decided to make more room on this blighted cruise for the Property Managers Who Could Do Better. There is a special cabin reserved for you next to the bilge. There is only one bed in this cabin and no toilet. You may lease the bed, but will have to pay an “option” fee of $500 and fill in a thirty page form that includes a detailed questionnaire about your bowel movements and previous partners. I will then take two weeks to select one of you.
Or none of you.
Wishing you the burning pox,
Angie