Editor’s note: The
name of the ‘landlord’ in this story has been changed to protect the name of what appears to be a real person. That person
doesn’t appear to be involved in this story. The location and address of the
property were also intentionally held out of the story.
Let’s get this out of the way: Apartment searches are the
worst.
You can’t afford what you feel you deserve. What you can
afford, you can’t fit into. Nobody’s insurance will cover your timid dog
because of her breed, size or face (DOG BIGOTRY IS REAL, PEOPLE).
But in today’s apartment market, where emails and texts
are increasingly the norm, it gets even worse. You have to deal with people
like “Jonathan Miller.”
*****************************
Jonathan Miller has a problem. He’s got a beautiful condo
– which he paid about $200,000 for in 2005 – but he can’t keep it.
A longtime resident of the area, he and his family have
been reassigned to work a new post in Georgia. They have to leave quickly. But
they’ll be back.
They need someone “clean & responsible [sic]” to
watch over their “lovely home.” And writing such phrases, at least outside of a
newsroom or publishing house, is no crime at all.
I’m the perfect tenant for Jonathan. I’m clean, I’m
organized, I’ve got a steady job. And, I’m semi-desperately searching for a
place to live.
The condo seemed too good to be true. It was a three-bed,
two-bath behemoth in a clean neighborhood literally across the street from
where I’m staying now. The commute into the city wouldn’t be too long. They’d
take my dog! I could afford it, and it was open immediately. I was all over
that housing post. Email sent.
He returned my email around 2 a.m., a red flag but an
explainable one. His email was unorthodox, to say the least.
He ran down his story – moving to Georgia, need a renter,
etc. Rent, he said, would include cable, an equipped kitchen, heat, water and
electric. Wow.
But what he did next was the first sign of trouble.
Copied and pasted into the lower body of the email was a
“RENTAL APPLICATION FORM [sic].” It asked some standard questions – name,
reason for leaving present dwelling – but too many over-personal ones.
“Do you drink.” “How much do you have at hand right now
if you are asked to secure the property today.” He also told me I could “drive
by the house at your earliest convenience” and get back to him.
It all seemed to weird, so I clicked the original ad
where I found the condo. It had been flagged for removal. I didn’t feel good
about that.
When I got to work, I started researching.
I accessed county records to see if this person actually
owned what they said they owned. I found an address within one or two doors of
the address listed. It was in Jonathan’s name, co-owned with Pam Miller, likely
his wife.
It’s weird that the
address doesn’t quite match up, I thought. But I don’t totally get condos, so maybe I’m missing something. Or
maybe he’s renting only part of a single parcel that’s split into two.
I mostly let it slide.
I decided to call Jonathan and sort this out. I hadn’t
really looked at his number until now. It was an Oregon area code, clearly a
cell phone. I dialed anyway.
It rang a few times but went to a Google voicemail
account. I left a message asking him to call me. I needed him to answer a few
questions. I also wanted to see the inside of the place I’d maybe be living in
soon.
I was still curious, so I googled the address. Third or
fourth on the results page was a listing for a rental property at the same
address.
The post was a carbon copy of what I responded to, but
with three differences. The property wasn’t available until Sept. 1. It was
renting for $600 more than the first post. And it was in the name of a realtor.
I called the realty office. I told the gentleman who’d
posted the rental that I was engaging someone else about the property now, and
he offered it for less. I asked if he was representing the Miller family, or if
he’d ever heard of them.
No, he said. A
beat. But someone did call me looking to
rent this earlier. He said something about a guy in Georgia trying to lease it.
I didn’t know what he was talking about.
I asked if he thought I was being scammed. He said yes.
I hung up, fairly defeated. I went back to work.
Within a few minutes, I received a text. It was Jonathan.
**********
“Hello Adams are
you really interested in renting my home?”
Bad grammar. Wrong name. Nobody’s perfect, right?
“I’d like to talk on the phone,” I texted back. “Please
call.”
He called within 30 minutes. I answered, but the call
dropped right away.
He called again a bit later. The reception was terrible.
He had a thick accent; not the voice you’d expect to hear coming from Jonathan
Miller.
I told him a realtor claimed he was showing the
apartment. He told me I should no longer contact that company. I should just
fill out the application.
I can’t let you see
the place, he said. I’m in Georgia. Send
me the security deposit and I’ll send you a key.
I told him that I didn’t feel comfortable paying for a
place I hadn’t seen. I asked if there was anyone who could let me in.
He repeated that he was in Georgia and no one could let
me in. I asked if he would send me a key. He said yes, fill out the application
and I’ll send you a key. All you have to pay is the key shipping fee.
How much is it to
ship the key? I asked.
$100.
This was going nowhere legal. I gave him one last chance
to screw up.
You own this with
your wife, right? What’s her name?
He said a name, but I couldn’t hear. I asked him to say
it again.
Debbie. My wife’s
name is Debbie.
I told him the house was in the name of Jonathan and Pam.
He dismissed my observation. I began to ask another question.
I don’t know if the call dropped or if he hung up, but
Jonathan was suddenly gone. I put my phone down. This is over.
About 20 minutes later, I got another text from the
Oregon phone currently in “Georgia.”
“Hello”
OK, this is going nowhere. I texted him back.
“I’m no longer interested in the property. Please don’t
contact me.”
That did the trick.
***********
I don’t know if there’s a lesson to be learned here that
you didn’t already know.
Perhaps it’s, “Always look at an apartment before you
talk money,” or, “Never believe a landlord who emails at 2 a.m.”
But I hope you knew that. I really do.
As for my apartment search, it’s ongoing. We’re looking
at promising places almost every day, and we know we’ll find something soon. I
continue to email with property owners, and almost none of them send me
anything after midnight. That’s a good sign.
If you’re reading this, “Jonathan,” I’d like to say I
hope you find a renter soon. But I won’t say that, because you’re probably a
terrible person. You’re probably a Craigslist predator who feeds on desperate
or internet-illiterate people, even if it only means you make $100.
But I guess I’ll never truly know if you were a scammer.
Maybe you’re sitting in a Georgia living room right now, beer cracked open
after a long day at the salt mines. Maybe you need that beer because of the
bath you’re taking on your vacant, suburban Minnesota condo.
If that’s the case, well, that sucks. I was going to turn
that third bedroom into a movie theatre.
