Hi girlies, let’s gossip!
To put a nice little bow on last week’s saga, yesterday I removed my laptop from the rice bin after being submerged for almost one full Gregorian calendar week. She’s working fine, aside from the fact that she loses 1% battery every 3 minutes. I did my little time machine back up as well; even though I graduated from college 2 years ago I am just now finally starting to feel like a film student, now that I own one of those orange rubber hard drives that everyone and their mother uses. I’ve done what I can—whatever happens next is up to the big Apple store in the sky.
I’ve been putting off breaking the news to you, my beloved readers, for as long as I could, but I can’t bear to keep this secret any longer: the ladies of 301 will be moving soon. We’ve a hootin, hollerin time in the loft, but it’s time we move on to bigger (lie) and better (another lie) things.
We’re moving for a couple reasons, but mainly because we live in a not-so-bueno area of Bushwick. I’m tireeeed of changing my outfit no less than 3 times before I leave the house to minimize the male attention. God forbid I try to walk to the grocery store in a crop top and shorts for once in my pathetic little life!
People are calling this moving season the most challenging one they’ve ever experienced, which is incredible to hear. These real estate agents really have no problem lying to your face or ghosting you after you’ve given them access to some of your most private and confidential information. For people who don’t live in New York, here’s a little taste of the bullshit they’re getting away with:
Over the weekend I reached out to an agent about a listing, providing all the days and times we were available. I hadn’t heard any sort of confirmation from her for several days, and then yesterday at 12:57 PM (the only day I told her we weren’t available, mind you), she tells me she has a showing at 4:30 if I wanted to come. I went, because I obviously do nothing all day, and of course I was met with a line of 3 others groups hoping to tour the place as well.
We all get to chatting, and a guy from the second group tells us he put a deposit down on a place at the beginning of the month. He applied on a Thursday, by Tuesday he was told he was all good to go, and then the next day they told him the place had been rented. He decided to give the agent the benefit of the doubt and use him a second time, only to have the same thing happen. We stew on that story for a moment, and then a member of the first group tells us that he received an email from the agent 30 minutes ago, saying she needs to reschedule. We all check to see if we got the same email—nothing. Someone asks if there is phone number provided in her signature, and as he scrolls through, he finds out that she just so happens to work for the same company as the other unreliable agent. He gives her a call to politely ask her what the fuck is going on, and she tells him that she received “too many emails” and she simply “couldn’t reply to all of them.” She tells him she plans on updating the listing on StreetEasy (whatever that means), and we can all try and reschedule something at a later date.
Knowing everything we now knew, we all walk away with a “fuck this company and this place” mindset. Then last night, I figured I’d check the listing again just to see what she meant when she said she would update it, and wouldn’t you know it, the apartment is now under contract. This bitch knew she had a deal in the works, and she still had us come out on a 93 degree day for no reason whatsoever. And then she proceeded to lie about why she was canceling!!! If he hadn’t seen that email, we could’ve been standing out there for who knows how long. After weeks of being hustled, scammed, bamboozled, hoodwinked, and lead astray by all these agents, this was going to be the first time we actually got in the door of a prospective apartment. The shadiness and the inconsistencies are honestly really troubling to me, and I just hope we don’t find ourselves in a super shitty situation because of it.
Anywhore, if you want to say your goodbyes to the titular loft of which this very newsletter is affectionately named after, you’ve got about a month to do so. Come hang out, I’m begging!