Movin' on up

When determining the bottom of the barrel of New York professionals it usually goes something like this:

-Investment bankers
-Crack dealers
-Illegal Arms traders
-Real Estate agents

Although I'm pretty sure those are interchangeable. If it were up to Ladybird and me, real estate agents would vault to the top (or bottom depending on how you look at it) of that list. However, it wasn't always that way. We actually held NY rentals agents in high regard. We thought they were the ones with the power to deliver people to a good home. Friendly voices that would comfort us through a stressful search. People to listen to what we wanted and match us with a perfect residence. Stupid us.

With weekends out of town in Mid-April and a May 1 move date, we packed our first (and pretty much only) search weekend with appointments starting on Friday night and went straight through Sunday afternoon. They were packed so tight, that we feared even the slightest delay would cause a chain reaction of tardiness, leading into a downward spiral which left us blackballed by the Manhattan Real Estate Brokers mafioso and, ultimately, homeless. We would stick to our plan, meet everyone on time and find a place by Sunday at 6 p.m.

We probably should figured that it was going to be a bit bumpy when our first broker, Sarah at Best Apartments, didn't bother to show up because she had an audition. Her boss informed us that that Sarah likely didn't have anything for us anyway. Well, then.

From there, the rest of our weekend became a blur of subway rides and meetings with Manhattan's real estate intellectual elite like Piero. He decided to host an open house for an apartment he wasn't legally allowed to rent. He also happened to be from Best Apartments, the downtown branch.

With each appointment we came a little bit closer to moving back to Boston. Many brokers didn't even have keys to open the doors. They relied on buzzing every tenant and hoping someone jumped at the chance to let a complete stranger into their building. Some brokers just didn't even bother showing up. James from New York Living Solutions told us that the first places he showed were really just to "kill time until he could get the keys for the better ones." This, of course, came minutes after us informing him that we're on a tight schedule.

After smarmily telling us we wouldn't find anything in our price range, Britney from Mark David Realty got us lost on the subway and locked out of every place she promised to show us. Apparently she wouldn't find anything in our range either.

Our last appointment of the day was with Ehren, who promised 2-3 places in our range. All we had to do was come to the office and we'd head out from there. Of course when we showed up we saw the company name on the front door - Best Apartments. Ladybird suggested we cut our losses and walk away before we even step inside. Of course we naively gave them the benefit of the doubt. Afterall, maybe it was just a few bad apples we encountered in their other two locations. Not everyone in the company must have been a transplant recipient of a baboon brain. Alas, we were right. Some had gotten orangutan brains. Others had acquired ones from apes. I'm not sure which one Ehren had, but it wasn't a brain that could remember our conversation from 15 minutes prior. She had no apartments to show. If we got anything out of them, its that we learned Best Apartments is indeed a primate's dream workplace.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around we had seen 4 habitable appartments. All of which were shown to us by an overly eager, speedwalking Israeli man who told us how Ladybird and I could have a hot shower together while enjoying a slight river view. If we tilted our heads to the left.

My carefully crafted list of select real estate specialists was about be used for self-imposed paper cuts, a less painful option than meeting with the names actually on it.

After a minor freakout each night of the week, we met Reison Dominguez from A.C. Lawrence. Ladybird was skeptical since the apartment we met him at was covered in scaffolding. But that changed the second he showed her the open kitchen space and brand new floors. He took us from place to place, talked us through each one and prepped us for what we were going to see. He even had keys for each one. How novel.

Our first two places fell through: one was bad timing and the other because of a bidding war. Yes, a bidding war for rent in a crappy economy. Reison knew our tight timeline and helped us lock in a place 14 hours after our other ones fell through. It was a bit more than we wanted to pay but at that point we didn't care. It was by far the nicest building we saw and our rental car back to Boston was already idling. We had to blow town.

In the end, we are happy to have met Reison and already referred him to two friends in their search. It's a shame that for every Reison there are 10 Britney, Ehren, and Pieros in the New York real estate rental market. Even in a down economy, when brokers should be dying to make sales, connections and customers, there just aren't enough honest, capable folks to do the job. If nothing else, this experience makes me feel good to know that if my current career falls through, I can make a living in New York real estate rentals. Apparently all it takes is actually getting some keys, a little bit of listening, and a brain that's slightly more evolved than a primate.