More Worst From "Best"

More of the worst from Ms. Best. . . Subject: NEW APT Cheryl !!! I just got a NEW listing for an apartment NOT being advertised. It's a one bedroom on West 69 Street -- beautiful street. Amazing one bedroom apartment !! If you want to see it, I can have Dummy show it to you today. I would normally collect one month fee on this (since I have a real estate firm) -- but if you want it -- then I'll work something out with you -- as a favor. Let me know! Best, * To:Best. Can he show it 5:30 ish? Thanks! From: Best. You and I seem to be on our computers at the same time. The owner wants $2500 I may be able to get it for you at $2200 -- lowest. And instead of charging you one month (which I charge everyone -- I would only charge you $1000). Best thing about this: 1. Unique one bedroom apt - which I think you will love 2. I process all paperwork 3. I will greenlight you -- but -- pls, no stalling -- other people want to see this apt -- if you like it be ready to apply for it tonite?? OK?? Best. As a FAVOR?$1,000 dollars? If this person ever shook my hand, I would immediately count my fingers (or maybe she would just take the entire hand and sell it back to me for only $1,000 ) If this was the Taj Mahal of west 69th street, I probably wouldn’t rent from someone this unscrupulous. But curiosity prevailed. . . To: Best. what time? 5:30 in front of LANCOME / Columbus 69 Street Good Luck!Best. The closer it got to 5:30, the more I asked myself “What are you doing?” the best I could come up with was “It won’t be a total waste. I can get cookies at Magnolia Bakery, or grab a smoothie at the gym. Plus it will make great material for the journal.” The real truth: I wanted to see the apartment. It occurred to me that looking for the perfect apartment is like dating. You go through many toads, get many stories, laugh, get frustrated, cry, experience great hope and crashing disappointment, feel humiliated, second guess yourself and, hopefully, eventually find someone you can love, or at least tolerate. You may have to lower your expectations at some point, and reset your priorities. Hmmm. . . I’ve never been one to lower my expectations. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been married. After I made the appointment to look at the apartment, I felt like I was getting ready for a bad blind date. I was already planning my exit strategy, practicing how to say “no”. My stomach began to ache, and I could hear my mother saying, “Give it a chance.” There was a better chance of me standing in the Lancôme doorway, wearing nothing but a Bart Simpson mask over my hoo-hah than giving this chick money for an apartment. I prayed that I wouldn’t like the apartment. Dummy approached, 10 minutes late, and we went around the corner to the apartment. Location, perfect. It was a prewar walkup that smelled like George Washington’s horse had just taken a crap there. We walked up a flight of steps to a 1st floor apartment. The ground floor apartment is known as basement. Northern exposure, great if you’re a vampire or allergic to light. Big windows, mirror. Doll sized stove, smallish kitchen with dogsh*t brown cabinets. Small, dark bathroom, but I’d seen worse. 70 square feet, including a sleep loft and storage loft. I don’t like steps and am afraid of ladders. I climbed up the steps to the sleep loft and learned that unless you’re a Munchkin or one of Snow White’s companions, you can’t stand up. “Why don’t you show this apartment to Vern Troyer, Mini Me, Tinkerbell, Mickey Rooney, and the guy from Different Strokes who always said “what choo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” “You can fit a king sized bed in there” chimed Dummy. What a gift for sales this guy had. “Sideways?” I added. “For a tiny king to sleep in?” “Is there a live in Super?” I asked. “No.” “Who do I contact if there’s a problem?” Silence. He looked as if I’d asked him to solve a nuclear physics equation. “I’m not in love with this apartment.” $2200 for this dump? With all the apartments I’ve seen, I know the value is $1800, tops. No wonder it’s not being advertised-it’s an embarrassment. It’s unique, all right-unique that anyone in their right mind would want to live here. I’d love it? Is she greedy, and nuts???!! “Do you want to look at the other apartment again, from last week?” “Sure, what the hell.” On the way, I tried to make small talk. It was the longest three blocks of my life. “How long have you been doing real estate?” “Four years.” “Why did you become an agent?” “I got tired of selling recalled Ford Pintos. My boss said I’d be a natural at real estate.” “How long have you worked for her?” “Three months.” “Where were you before?” “I’d rather not say.” Bernard Madoff Real Estate? Federal prison? “New Jersey.” What a pity. He could have found me my dream home in Piscataway. Ewwww. “Are you hoping to get into sales instead of rentals?” “Nope.” “Why not? I thought everyone did.” “Rentals are quick cash.” I thought of the $1,000 for nothing. "You're not kidding. . . " The apartment wasn’t as bad as I remembered. It was worse. Under 300 square feet, under construction; an asbestos emergency waiting to happen. Electricity-gouging AC/heat compressor took up one fourth of the apartment. Lovely northern exposure where sunlight never comes. The doorman was even more charming than I remembered. I think he passed away two years ago and nobody told him. “I’m not in love with it. Thanks for showing me the apartments.” “Do you want to make an offer?” What part of “I’m not in love with these apartments” did this imbecile not understand? “No.” Wow, that was easier than I thought. I walked away, happy and relieved. Wait a minute. Why am I relieved at not finding an apartment?