Spite, Brooklyn style...
I have been somewhat mystified by NYC landlord paranoia...UNTIL TODAY.
I've been a landlord for years and have operated on a hearty handshake and "hale fellows well met" kind of vibe for years in Ann Arbor.
I DID have a short term horrific deal with a compulsive liar who wormed his way into my rental unit, but all it took to nip that in the bud was to find his mommy and daddy. It was over very quickly, very cleanly.
In any event, today I went to see a "garden apartment in Park Slope." New bathroom, large apartment, $1,975.00 per month. A big stretch financially, to be sure.
So I take the subway (my beloved and somewhat OCD-centric F train) to the address on 4th Avenue in "Park Slope."
"Hmmmm, why, this seems a bit like Warren Avenue in Detroit" I think to myself. There is a fenced in vacant lot next door strewn with garbage, a tire shop across the street called "Rim Job" and a rather shabby exterior. "Oh well, maybe it's nice inside." heh-heh.
I call the landlord, Joe (pronounced "d-Jow" for those not used to the Brooklyn flav).
He shows up, super nice guy. There is a yellow form on the front door which I didn't deem fit to read before he got there. He rips it off the door with a flourish and says, "it's the city sniffin' money." Then he gets out his keys so we can take a look at the apartment.
Unfortunately, something seems to be wrong with the locks.
"There is a key broken off in the lock!" he tells me. "I can get in from the upstairs apartment."
He dutifully goes up and bangs on the upstairs flat. I wait in the wrought-iron vestibule below.
DJow opens the front door and I enter. Apartment #1 (the "garden apartment") has two locks. Both have broken keys in them.
"I evicted the guy this weekend," Joe explains. "He's a hairdresser, works with celebrities, but then he got hooked up wit dah drugs."
I hear the sound of running water as dJow works on the locks.
Eventually the locks give way and we get in. The crackhead hairdresser who was evicted has stolen every lightbulb in the place. He has stolen all the parts of the stove. He has locked the "newly remodeled" bathroom and left the water running for two days. The "garden" out back is a cement slab covered with piles of dogshit. There are piles of garbage and junk everywhere and holes in the wall as well. (not that it was any great shakes to begin with).
But the highlight of the situation: an 2'x2' oil painting of a gaping asshole, left for "dJow," on top of one of the many piles of garbage in the middle of the room. A "fuck you" amidst a sea of fuck yous.
Poor Joe just had to laugh, but I know he was embarrassed and mad, and trying to keep good humor. I really sympathized with the dude.
I wished him luck and left.
I've been a landlord for years and have operated on a hearty handshake and "hale fellows well met" kind of vibe for years in Ann Arbor.
I DID have a short term horrific deal with a compulsive liar who wormed his way into my rental unit, but all it took to nip that in the bud was to find his mommy and daddy. It was over very quickly, very cleanly.
In any event, today I went to see a "garden apartment in Park Slope." New bathroom, large apartment, $1,975.00 per month. A big stretch financially, to be sure.
So I take the subway (my beloved and somewhat OCD-centric F train) to the address on 4th Avenue in "Park Slope."
"Hmmmm, why, this seems a bit like Warren Avenue in Detroit" I think to myself. There is a fenced in vacant lot next door strewn with garbage, a tire shop across the street called "Rim Job" and a rather shabby exterior. "Oh well, maybe it's nice inside." heh-heh.
I call the landlord, Joe (pronounced "d-Jow" for those not used to the Brooklyn flav).
He shows up, super nice guy. There is a yellow form on the front door which I didn't deem fit to read before he got there. He rips it off the door with a flourish and says, "it's the city sniffin' money." Then he gets out his keys so we can take a look at the apartment.
Unfortunately, something seems to be wrong with the locks.
"There is a key broken off in the lock!" he tells me. "I can get in from the upstairs apartment."
He dutifully goes up and bangs on the upstairs flat. I wait in the wrought-iron vestibule below.
DJow opens the front door and I enter. Apartment #1 (the "garden apartment") has two locks. Both have broken keys in them.
"I evicted the guy this weekend," Joe explains. "He's a hairdresser, works with celebrities, but then he got hooked up wit dah drugs."
I hear the sound of running water as dJow works on the locks.
Eventually the locks give way and we get in. The crackhead hairdresser who was evicted has stolen every lightbulb in the place. He has stolen all the parts of the stove. He has locked the "newly remodeled" bathroom and left the water running for two days. The "garden" out back is a cement slab covered with piles of dogshit. There are piles of garbage and junk everywhere and holes in the wall as well. (not that it was any great shakes to begin with).
But the highlight of the situation: an 2'x2' oil painting of a gaping asshole, left for "dJow," on top of one of the many piles of garbage in the middle of the room. A "fuck you" amidst a sea of fuck yous.
Poor Joe just had to laugh, but I know he was embarrassed and mad, and trying to keep good humor. I really sympathized with the dude.
I wished him luck and left.
posted by wendyo at 8:05 PM
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