New York Apartment Hunt Redux

A couple of you have asked me to post my account of my apartment-hunting experience that originally graced a few of your inboxes:

One of my first defining Big Apple experiences came before I even moved here. About a month before the move, I flew out to look for a place to live. I gave myself three days to find the perfect New York apartment. “How hard could it really be?”, I flippantly thought in the days leading up to my trip. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.

As it turns out, apartment-hunting in Gotham is not for the faint of heart. The Southern California version is that you look around, check out a few places (have the Irvine Company do most of the work if you live in South OC), half-heartedly fill out a credit application and maybe furnish a pay stub or two.

The Manhattan version is easy, too! Simply sign over your first born and all of your current and future assets. Seriously, I had to provide more paperwork and documentation to simply LEASE a place than I did when I BOUGHT a place. Many pay stubs, letter of employment, copies of bank statements, last two year’s tax returns, 401k and IRA statements… the list goes on. Luckily, I skated through undetected as a foreigner. I had heard that if you’re not a US citizen, it’s not uncommon to have to front an entire year’s rent. So I adopted a NY sneer, a Yankee’s ball cap (sorry, Angels!), and a few choice words of vocabulary and I was golden. Fuhgeddaboudit.

My first clue that the search in Manhattan would be tougher? Reading online that the vacancy rate is currently less than 1 percent. ONE PERCENT. Ok, 1 percent of a gazillion apartments is still a BIG number, granted, but that matched up with TWO gazillion people looking for a place to live and, well… you do the math.

On my first day, I intrepidly set out, armed with my “Manhattan Block by Block” book (a godsend), contact information for a promising sublet in Chelsea, and the addresses of a number of other buildings in the same area that looked promising. About one hour into my trek, my optimism was doused by an aggressive rainstorm that settled in for the rest of the day (thankfully, I had the foresight to drag an umbrella along for the day), the fact that the Chelsea sublet was not even close to the slam dunk it had seemed to be from 3000 miles away, AND the fact that the owner of my “fallback” temporary landing spot (an apartment on the Upper East Side) was now waffling about whether the apartment was actually really available after all, vaguely claiming his wife had never really approved the initial arrangement in the first place.

Day One a bust? In the most spectacular way imaginable. I hung my jeans in the hotel shower to drip dry and flopped down onto the bed and did what any self-respecting, independent woman would do. I called my Special K and had the “What the heck am I doing here??” conversation.

To kick off Day Two, I went immediately to the business center and logged back onto Craig’s List to see what was new. I made a few calls about places listed under the “No Fee” section and set appointments for later in the day. The “no fee” distinction is important because there are thousands of apartment brokers in New York and they will gladly help you find an apartment… for a fee. For a BIG fee, usually. (10% to 15% of your total first year’s rent is standard.)

Broker #1 is Michael. We agree to meet at 11:00 at a building on 8th Avenue. Michael oozes through the revolving doors, leaving such an obvious trail of sleaziness behind him, he must have been a snail in a previous life. Strike one. He’s a big guy, about 6’3” or so and blocks the light mometarily as he stands in the doorway. His handshake is weak and worse, sweaty. Strike two against Michael. We look at the place, along with 5 other people who are there, wanting to see it (remember, less than 1% availability – the competition is fierce), and I decide that I will actually put an application in on it. It’s close to work, the building is pretty nice and the apartment is pretty decent.

After I’ve filled out the forms, given him $75 (in cash) to run my credit, we are back out on the street when he says, “So, you know about the broker’s fees, right?” “What?” I reply, “This was listed as ‘no fee’ on Craig’s List.” “Well, yeah, I know” he says and then adds “’No fee’ really means ‘LOW fee’.” And he says this with a straight face. STRIKE THREE.

I demanded all of my paperwork AND my cash back and told him the deal was off. After a lame attempt to explain the value he thinks he's adding to my apartment search, he slinks off up 8th Avenue, lights a cigarette, and disappears into the crowd. I shove my money back into my wallet and head off to meet Broker #2.

Broker #2 is a displaced Israeli who started his own broker firm and while he’s still clearly hustling, trying to make money, he is very nice, shows me about 6 places altogether, cut me a good deal on the broker fee (less than one month’s rent!), and ultimately found me my new home.

All this by the end of Day Two!