Moving SUCKS.

I knew that moving was not going to be an enjoyable experience, as much as I wanted it to be, its just a fact of life: moving sucks. The actual process of moving is annoying, strenuous, time consuming...I could go on and on. My process though, was in its own class of terribleness. Bear with me, this is going to be a long one.

It all started on a sunny afternoon at the beginning of September. I was at work (of course) perusing craigslist for apartment listings. Gina and I had decided to be roommates a while ago, and vowed that we would start searching early. Throughout August we tried to haggle our way to a lower rent at Park La Brea, to no avail. We were scouring craigslist for cute apartment options, but every place we called said they needed someone to move in right away. Our move in date wasn't until the end of September. Finally September rolled around, and on this particular day, I found a listing for a brand new 2 bed/2 bath, hardwood floors throughout, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, dishwater, underground parking, central a/c. A HUGE find for something in our price range. We made an appointment with the Property Manager, Justin, for that weekend.

That Saturday morning, we went to the new place to do a walk through. Justin was a grungy, pothead type who, while "on a hiatus" from acting, took this job as Property Manager for some extra cash and the free rent. He showed us a few of the units. We loved them. They were beautiful. The complex itself was still under heavy construction. The garage was full of random construction materials, the laundry room was dirty and no where close to being usable; barely anything was in working order besides the unit itself. He told us of all the plans for the complex. How if we chose the bottom floor we'd get a private patio space outside of our sliding door, and all these other cute odds and ends. We were some of the first people to come look at the place, so we could have our pick of the units. Justin told us that utilities weren't included, but with the two of us, we figured it wouldn't be too much a month. We were three weeks away from the end of our current leases, so we decided to put in an application. Justin also said that he would try to get us a week to move in before the lease began. This was the best deal we had found in West Hollywood; a terrific neighborhood, permit-free street parking for our guests, and we each had equal size rooms with our own bathrooms. Close to the Grove and Larchmont Village. Not to mention the appliances and apartment itself were beautiful, and with some minor cleaning, it would be a very classy place to live for a pair of 20-somethings making $30k a year. Three weeks was plenty of time to get the rest of the complex in clean, working order right? He told us right then and there, as we filled out the application, that he would run the credit checks tomorrow and tell us if we qualified, then we could get the process started and sign a lease later in the week. Whaa? Wait. My buyer remorse started to kick in. The place was pretty ideal though. Is this how fast this process is supposed to happen? I agreed to let the credit check happen, and crossed my fingers that this was the best we could find. Even after that week, and after the lease was signed, I continued to check craigslist to see if I could find anything better. I couldn't. I started to feel a bit better about being rushed into signing my life away.

Justin called us the day after we saw the place to tell us we had been approved. We can sign the lease and put down the deposit. I couldn't get paid until Friday, but he was once again rushing us, telling us that the money NEEDED to be in by Tuesday because he had a lot of people who wanted to see the place, threatening that it wouldn't be there by Friday. He also wouldn't let us only pay 1 month's rent as the deposit, we HAD to pay 1 1/2, and as soon as possible. That meant we would have to run to the bank sometime during our busy day and get a bank check, and for me, I'd have to borrow $1200 from Mark to get that bank check. Great. Buyer's remorse creeping up once again. We obliged, but we both work late and couldn't get all the way across town to sign the lease and drop off the deposit until 8:30 that night. Could he meet us then? Nope, it was "too late" for him. Well, could you meet us halfway? Nope. We had to take more time out of our day and leave early from work to meet this kid for this apartment I was still wasn't 100% sure I wanted. He told us he'd meet us at the new place. (What grinds my gears is that to this day, there are still three units available. "Will be gone by the end of the week" my ass.)

We get to the street of the new apartment at 8pm. He is standing outside his beat up car waiting for us. He tells us that he "forgot that the unit doesn't have electricity yet, but this should only take us 5 minutes", so we'll just sign it here under this street lamp in the middle of the street on the top of my shit ass car. Reeeeal professional. And this isn't going to take 5 minutes, because I'm going to read every single line of this shady lease. He keeps stressing to us that he needs to be somewhere by 8:45. I don't give a shit. I need to read this, calm down and be accommodating for once. At the top it said that the landlord pays for water.
Me-"Wait, water is included?"
Justin-"Oh yeah."
Me-"I thought we had to pay for utilities. But not water?"
Justin-"If it says he pays for water, I guess he does. Sweet."
Fucking stoner. He also continued to tell us that the landlord wouldn't give us a week before to move in, but he'd give us three days. Right then and there I wrote it in my planner. September 28th. Move in. Albeit a Monday, but if that's the best we could get, fine.
I took a while to read through each part of the lease, and let Gina know that it was alright to sign. We gave him the deposits. All in the moonlight of Elmwood Ave. He then told us we had one more thing to sign. A waiver. The units were originally built as condos, and then the market went sour, so the landlord decided to put them on the market as apartments for lease.
Me-"Oh. So we need to sign something that says we aren't responsible for homeowner's fees or dues?"
Justin-"Uh. Yep. Right."
He is good for nothing.
Me-"Cool. Where is it?"
Justin-"I don't have it yet. I meet with him tomorrow and will get it then. And after I meet with him and he looks over the lease you signed, I'll fax you a copy."
Hmm. Okay, well at least he knows we need a copy. Too bad I can't have one tonight, unless he has some sort of copier in his piece of shit vehicle. We'd have to come all the way back to this side of town tomorrow night to sign one, single piece of paper.
Justin-"I only need one of you to sign it, so only one of you needs to come."
Yeah freakin right. Like I'm going to go to your sketch apartment at 8:45 at night by myself. Thanks but no thanks bud. I'll bring a freakin posse.

I text him the next day to see where the fax was of the lease. He said "I won't give it to you until you sign the waiver, that way all the paperwork will be together." UGH. Fine. Gina and I go that night to his shoddy apartment at the border of Koreatown to sign this paper. He gives us a copy of the signed lease. I read the waiver paper. It is NOT a waiver of the homeowner fees. Its a waiver of our rights. If the landlord wants to all of the sudden make our unit into a condo, while he needs to get it approved by the city, he has every right to kick us out without any relocation help, etc. Uhhh. I don't know how I feel about this. Justin says its "standard". I decide that there is always a way out of a contract. It states that he needs to give us 30 days. Fine. I'll sign it. Buyer's remorse. We get a copy of that also.

The next week I call Justin to see if we can come and measure.
Me-"Can we come Sunday at noon to measure the place?"
Justin-"No, I won't be around."
Me-"Oh. Okay, what about Saturday morning?"
Justin-"Nah, I don't have to show the property that morning so I won't be there."
What? Then effing come and unlock the door for us. Thanks for being accommodating. Fine. I'll try the next weekend. The same thing happens. We can't make it the times he will be there. Why he can't just come for a few minutes and let us measure is beyond me. This happens three weekends in a row.

Gina calls to introduce herself to our landlord the week before we're supposed to move in. She wants to move in the weekend before because it would be easier. She can't move during the week, she has to work, and doesn't have as lenient as a boss as I have. He tells her no. If she wants to pay $200 extra, she can move in early. She was going to pay it. I told her it was too much money and completely stupid. I was getting a U-Haul on Monday and would come and get her stuff for her while she was at work and we'd split the cost. She was very grateful. He was hesitant to give us three days, but he said that he was "willing to work with us" and finally granted us permission. We would move in on Monday.

Finally, this past weekend, two days before we are scheduled to move in, our schedules align. We could come measure. We show up Saturday morning and meet the landlord, Mark, face to face. He is actually really nice and has a cool African accent ala Dave Matthews. He mentions how we are scheduled to move in Monday. He puts our numbers in his cell phone and is really friendly. Justin lets us into the unit. Its still filthy. It still doesn't have fixtures. Nothing has changed since we saw it three weeks ago. I talk to the landlord quickly as we leave.
Me-"Nice to meet you! Should I call you tomorrow about getting the keys and such?" (I had other questions I wanted to ask too.)
Mark-"Call whenever!...Actually the office is closed tomorrow."
Me-"Okay, then I'll call you early Monday."
Mark-"Great! We'll get it figured out."
I should've called 45 minutes from then. I'm an idiot.

Monday morning I call the office at 9am sharp. I need to get the key situation figured out before I leave work to get the U-Haul. I'm also worried, based on Saturday, that the place hasn't been cleaned up. His receptionist says that he's not in yet, but she'll give him the message. The receptionist calls me back at 10:30. Mark isn't available the whole day. WHAT? I tell her he knows we are moving in today, we need the keys. She is really sweet and tells me I can come get the master key so I can move in my stuff. I ask her if she knows if the place has been cleaned yet. She has no idea.

I leave work at 1:30, meet Mark (my Mark) at the U-Haul place, he goes back to my place to load some of the trailer and do some laundry. I head to Koreatown to get the key. Its the sketchest part of mid-town. The office doubles as a leasing office, and a woodworking/cabinetry supply and showroom. There is a crazy homeless woman sitting near the steps yelling at herself. There are three Mexican kids under the age of 10 playing under a dirty dirty stairwell with no guardians in sight. Thank God its 3 in the afternoon and broad daylight. The overweight receptionist gives me the keys and tells me to return them "whenever". Uh. Alright.

The apartment is on the way home, so I decide I'm going to stop by and check to see if it has been prepped for move in. The whole day I have this huge knot in my stomach and a terrible feeling its going to look just as it looked on Saturday morning. Please God let it be move in ready.

I open the door and my worst thoughts are realized. Its exactly the same as it has been since the first second we laid eyes on it. The only difference is that Gina got the electricity turned on. How am I supposed to move things into a dirty apartment? I'm beyond infuriated. I'm stuck at a crossroads because technically, Mark is doing us a favor by letting us move in early, but he also knew we were coming today and should have had it ready, or at least should have been available to talk to. I'm so upset. I don't know what to do. I guess I could just swiffer one room and put everything in there? I only have this U-Haul for 24 hours. I need to get this done today. I call Justin. He is upset too, which makes me feel a little better, but he doesn't do anything about it. He suggests I call Mark the next day and bitch him out, and he'll call him too. That's all he offers. He is useless. There are also a few things wrong with the place that I want to address with Mark, but if I move in my stuff, will the nicks and dents now potentially be my fault even though they were there before I moved the stuff in?

Mark (my Mark), Gina and I spend until 11pm moving in our stuff. I started with just piling it in my room, but then we ran out of room and had to let it spill into Gina's room and the living room. I don't know how they're going to clean around it, but they'll need to figure it out. Gina had to stay there last night, and I guess she just didn't shower. I still have yet to hear from the landlord or Justin regarding the situation. I told Gina to call him because I will chew his ass out (which might be what he needs) but I haven't gotten any response from anyone.

This is so frustrating. Why can't stuff just work out? Moving is stressful enough as it is, then add all of this rediculousness and it becomes suicidal. All I want is a clean apartment that I can put my shit. Is that too much to ask? Apparently.

I'll keep you all updated. Please pray for Gina and I.