Rental Dementia: Too Much Security Threatens Relationship

“Chelsea, huh? Why Chelsea?” I asked. “Because it’s close to Penn Station,” she replied. Well there are several good reasons a person might want to move to Chelsea. It’s right above the Village, great restaurants, uninhibited rollerblading … Its close proximity to the blight surrounding West 34th Street, however, has never been mentioned as one of them—at least not to me. Already impatient, she continued, “Look, the ad said Chelsea.”

We had only been on the phone a minute, and I still had a way out, “Oh? If it’s a specific apartment ad, I can connect you directly to the agent who posted it. Is there a name?”

“Rick.” Great. He had quit the business about two months ago. There was no telling how old the listing was, and since I’d go broke waiting for a perfect client, I had to at least give this one a shot. It’s the same rational behind every new search: They need an apartment, and I need to pay for mine.

The dull and disinterested tone in her voice made it clear that she had already spoken to more than a few agents. You get them like this occasionally: worn-out, hopeless, but still drifting from one ad to another. An unmotivated renter, someone without any need or desire to move, will almost always create a hundred little obstacles along the way: eastern exposures when they needed northern; a no-pet policy for pets they don’t yet have; if only it was two blocks closer to Nobu; if only prostitutes didn’t hang out in front of the building; if only the shower wasn’t in the kitchen, if only, if only …

However, her reluctance was completely justifiable, and the more time I spent with her, the clearer it became. She didn’t want to move. She had a great apartment, in a newer building on the UES. Even with the $300 increase on a renewal lease, it still made more sense for her to stay. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, just couldn’t stand the commute and didn’t like the idea of moving into “her place.” He was pushing for a fresh start, somewhere near Penn Station, as strange as it seemed to me.

It’s spring and couples everywhere are in the process of creating and debating the same rationale: “We spend so much time together, why pay rent on two apartments?” Unaware of the inherent difficulties that lay ahead, they decide to move in together. Some won’t make it through the stress of a New York City search, and I’ve heard of those who’ve called off the entire relationship at the lease signing.

My clients were no different: She wanted a doorman, a fashionable neighborhood and a roof deck; he refused to pay $3,000 a month. It was two weeks of taking them out separately and showing each of them the other’s point of view. Without a lot of experience in counseling couples, I did my best to bring them together and never even charged them for the service. I’d consider it a fair part of my broker’s fee. Getting them to agree on the apartment though, turned out to be the easy part.

They finally settled on a building, which had just recently implemented a no-guarantor policy. Her income alone wouldn’t cut it, and he was starting a brand new job in Jersey—which is why they initially wanted to be close to Penn Station. So, you know, he wasn’t exactly rolling in it either. If I could combine their salaries, they would have just cleared the income criteria. But landlords don’t believe in love, they believe in credit reports, healthy salaries, long-term employment and large security deposits. They believe in one person on the lease because relationships don’t always last. The super tipped us off that they might ask for six months rent up front, and three if we were really lucky. Of course, $15,900 is an absurd amount to shell out on a rental unit, no matter how you look at it. They’d be crazy to move forward if that were the case, and even three months security was certainly no bargain. I submitted the application and hoped for the lesser of two evils.

They were approved in a little over an hour. The deal went down exactly as we hoped: one month security, three months of back rent, first month’s rent and the “counseling” fee. It was a grand total of $17,800 … a down payment elsewhere. I called to tell them the good news, “Congratulations! You got the apartment, now if you can just get me $18,000 by the end of the day, we can have the whole thing wrapped up. Call me!”

The day passed without hearing a word back. Early the next morning, the boyfriend’s number came up on my caller ID. Without listening to the message, I knew it was bad news since she would have called if it were good. He was moving into her apartment. They’d stay for at least another year, and thanked me for my effort: Without my help, they may have actually moved.