Today was my first official day in Boston as a resident. I flew in this afternoon to little fanfare and exceptionally late-arriving luggage at baggage claim. My friend Patrick met me there, as he always has on my visits to Beantown, and we were off to the new place in Cambridge. Since no one in their right mind drives in this town, we took the ‘T’ (subway). Mostly uneventful but it did provide enough time for us to catch up and for me to tell him about my recent adventures in terrible customer service. Good times.
Arrival at #22 was where things got a little ugly. The door was unlocked and there were cleaning supplies and piles of grit and grime everywhere. I called the broker that showed us this place since I didn’t have the number to our new landlord, Paul. She called me back a few minutes later to tell me that Paul was on his way over and that the cleaning crew had just stepped out to get additional supplies. Pat and I had left just moments early to get something to eat since I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, though, so I asked her to have him call me. Here is an abridged transcript of our conversation:
Paul: ‘Hey Shaun, how are you?’
Shaun: ‘Well, I’d be better if my place wasn’t such a mess.’
P: ‘Yeah, about that, the broker told me you weren’t coming in until the 13th’
S: ‘Yeah, well, my lease started on the 1st so regardless of what the broker told you, I’d sort of expect this sort of clean up to be done prior to that date.’
P: ‘Wait, wait, wait…that’s not how it works. I’m in constant touch with my brokers and they tell me when my tenants are moving in.’
S: ‘My lease started July one, Paul, which means I could be in there anytime from that day forward. The broker has nothing to do with it. If you had pre-move in stuff you needed to get done, it should have been done prior to that date.’
P: ‘Well, somebody’s not on the same page here. I don’t know who…well, I have a good idea. I have a good relationship with all my tenants and this one doesn’t seem to be starting on the right foot. If you want to move to another apartment, that’s up to you.’
S: ‘I didn’t say I wanted to move to another apartment. I said that my expectation is that this work you’re doing today should have been done before the lease started, regardless of the actual day I got here.’
P: ‘Listen, I’d be happy to argue this with you. I like to argue. But it’s not going to change anything.’
At this point, had I been in the same room with him, I most likely would have committed a felony. He quickly changed the subject, mentioning that the oven door would be fixed tomorrow and asking me how many sets of keys I had. I let it slide. I was tired, hungry and in no mood to either kill or look for another apartment. Truth be told, he struck me was a fast-talking little weasel of a man when we met him a month ago but we like the apartment and the neighborhood. At least I know where I stand with him now. I will say, though, that this marks yet another time in my life that I wish I was a lawyer, specifically with a solid knowledge of landlord/tenant law. Guess it’s proof positive that I’m heading the right direction…
After that debacle, Pat and I met up with his wife Melissa for dinner. It was good to see them both again but I was anxious to get home afterwards and be alone. I’ve got the moving blues. The first few days of a move to a new place, I wander around a lot by myself. I don’t miss the familiar so much as I feel depressed, really. It’s starting over, really, and though that brings with it a lot of possibilities, it also means a lot of redundancies. I’ve met people that have lived the same place their entire life. On the outside, I’ve wondered aloud how they could live forever knowing only their little sphere. On the inside, though, I’ve often envied them for their resolve and, in a way that I’d like to think isn’t condescending, their complex ignorance. They’re like specialists in Stone Mountain, Georgia or Ephrata, Washington. They may only know 10 square miles but they know them like nothing I could know.
So, anyway, I’m a little down but it’s standard issue at this point. Luckily, I’ve got a couple of good friends to keep me from getting too sad. That, and wine. I’m in good hands.
Shaun.
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