Rental Dementia: The Holdout

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded ancient. She was obviously in her eighties, not our typical demographic, and wanted to know if we had any one-beds in the Village. Assuming she was looking on behalf of a lazy grandkid, I told her we were a rental company and had plenty. What did she have in mind? “A large one-bedroom loaded with character.”

I thought to myself, “Don’t we all lady, don’t we all.” She then added, “And I have to have a doorman.” The swank new apartment was indeed for her.

Forty-five years is a long time to stay in a rental. Though, at $400 a month for a one-bedroom in the West Village, you’d stay too. “Maude’s” landlord had been trying to get rid of her using the standard tricks: reducing services, claiming construction problems had caused the lack of heat and hot water and even shutting down her stair-lift. She was frailer than my own grandmother, and the douche bag was making her climb four flights of stairs to reach her apartment. With every other tenant already bought out, and a new buyer waiting in the wings, Maude was the last holdout and he was growing impatient. Enough, in fact, to have finally offered her roughly a million bucks. I’ve heard of $80,000 and $100,000 buyouts, but nothing as large as that.

It took me all of an hour to find and show her the perfect apartment. She loved it immediately and asked if we could see it once more the following day. A trusted “friend” of hers could add insight, and I could hand off an application at the same time. The last bit of business was to make sure she would qualify financially. Her new landlords would want steady, responsible income, and would somehow make this difficult.

Although Maude had a good deal of money on the way, she was still technically a retired teacher. Without a guarantor, the landlord asked for the entire lease up front, which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t a two-year lease. At $3,495 a month, we were talking over $83,000 before the fee. With little hope of finding a guarantor, I was willing to let the deal go right then and there. But you don’t last 50 years in New York City without learning how to fight. She wanted the apartment, and was determined to get it.

I then got a call from the “friend,” who turned out to be the listing agent on the sale of her West Village building. Friend my ass, she would have told the old lady anything to get her out. I was skeptical, but she only wanted to firm up our appointment and inform me that the old landlord would be happy to guarantee the new rent. What a guy… She made me seriously uncomfortable. Arrogant, assuming and aggressive, I couldn’t finish a sentence without her interrupting. Beyond that, I viewed her involvement as nothing more than a courtesy to my client. So when she asked to see the application, I reluctantly handed it over, adding, “This is a little awkward.” I didn’t need an outside agent meddling in my deal.

She responded with a curt, “Well, get over it.”

She had already searched the entire city for a new apartment for old Maude. Accustomed to selling multi-million dollar townhouses, she knew shit about finding a good rental. In the real estate hierarchy, I was clearly the one hanging on to the last rung of the ladder. On the other hand, my cut of this transaction was about $1,800 after the split. She, on the other hand, was teetering on the brink of a $12 million sale, with about $180,000 on the line. So I was pretty sure I had the upper hand.

Still waiting for our mutual client to arrive, the argument erupted quickly. It ended with her threatening to take the old woman elsewhere, but I could have given her a wedgie right there in the lobby and she still wouldn’t have walked. I said, “Go ahead, find her something else.” She made more idle threats about calling my manager—but never made a move. The doorman was amused.

I had the completed application three hours later, and dropped the package off right before the attorney started calling. He had just heard about the helpful “friend’s” involvement in the deal, and thought it was a really bad idea to allow the dubious landlord to act as guarantor. He thought there was a way to pay the two years up front, and asked me to stall the new rental. It was another week of the “the check is coming” and “the negotiations have stalled.” Eventually, the original buyer for the building dropped out, even with the last tenant finally ready to move on. A new deal was offered to the old woman.

The landlord felt awful that most of the settlement money would have gone to the lawyers and the government. Instead of paying her off, he’d buy a nice condo, where she could have a 1 percent stake, and live there for her remaining days at her current rent. I naturally pitched my services as her sales agent, but haven’t heard from the old woman since.