Moving Day Blues

We received a letter from our landlord saying he was raising our rent. As a poker player I thought we could call his bluff. With half the buildings on our block wearing for rent signs we figured a 30 day notice of moving out would rescind the price hike. No go. So now my brother and I were without place to lay our heads in April. I walked down the block calling the phone numbers on the vacancy signs.

The first one was the right price. An Israeli woman showed us the hard wood floor two bedroom apartment. “Where are you from?” she asked.

“Miami.” we told her.

“No. Your parents?”

“Chicago.”

“Your grandparents? Are you Jewish?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes lit up. “You don’t look Jewish. You from Poland, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I know Polish girls, beautiful I set you two up.” She gave us the application forms and told us to hurry up with them as she would be showing the place to other people.

We looked at a couple other places. There was one we liked kitty corner from our current house. The manager, a silvermaned California laid back guy, showed up in a shiny Lexus and told us the deal. $1650 a month with the first month being free. Again, there were hardwood floors, but also  a dishwasher and washing machine. “The bathroom’s small, but one of you could use the toilet while the other showers. Or if you have a girl over, she can use the toilet while one of you shaves and the other showers.”

“In that case we’ll take it.” No, that was not our response. We were now trying to get the two sides to lower their demands and bid against each other. We got Silvermane to lower the rent to $1575 a month, but then the first month wouldn’t be free. This didn’t seem like much of a deal. The Israeli woman kept her price firm at $1500 a month. But she also agreed to put a dishwasher, washer/dryer unit and she threw in two Hungarians and a Slav. We signed the papers. She is our new landlady.