Story of a house - part 4

9 years ago

I slept better than the night before. After all, this was the beginning of a – hopefully – calmer day. I arrived at the office around 9.15 and my first action was to call Mr. J1 and tell him that I was pretty sure that I didn't want to do business with that Mafia guy. He took it pretty well, as I took the oportunity to ask him if he had more apartments available for my price range. He said that he had a small studio near the Pijp and that I could visit around 17.00 that afternoon, if he could get the keys from the owner on time, and I couldn't feel better putting all that "family" business behind my back.

The rest of the day went pretty smooth, with the occasional email exchange with another lady (other agency, a real one) trying to figure out a way for me to get registered at the Gemeente so I could be eligible for an Expats-only, government endorsed, apartment in WesterPark.

At 17.00 I took off to see the studio in the Pijp. I took the tram and, only on arrival, I realized that he had not replied mentioning if had the keys from the owner yet. The events of the past few days were starting to take a toll on me. This was not normal; I usually don't miss appointments, much less make up any. I went back to the office and, after approximately 30 minutes I get a call from Mr. J1 once again pushing for me to accept the Mafia deal. In retrospective I think I might have been a little harsh in the way I replied to him, but I was really tired of this whole story by now. He then proceeded to say that I could still visit the studio in the Pijp that evening, around 20.45. I agreed.

Arriving at the studio's address was somehow stressful. I had imagined a car pulling over the sidewalk and a couple of members of the "family" grabbing me and "convincing" me to accept the apartment. My friend Luis tried to reassure me, but no one on earth would get me into the studio's side of the road before I could see Mr. J1 arrive alone to show it.

Another guy arrived in the meantime, as if he was there to visit the studio as well. We joked that he was also in with them. Somehow I could not find myself to laugh. A few minutes later Mr. J1 arrived and, with him, Mr. S. We waited for a while before visiting the studio, because the current tenant seemed to have been caught in a bad time. At first we thought he might have been there with a girl, but later we understood from his eyes that it seemed to be a question of weed, sorry will, power.

The studio was comfortable, bigger than most studios in Amsterdam. The other visitor was still wondering whether he was interested or not. I promptly said I was and the visit ended shortly after. The owner would now take the information he had about the both of us and decide who would become his tenant and who would not. I was to send Mr. J1 a copy of my work contract to send to him, next morning, and so I did.

The next day however, after sending the required copy, I had no news from Mr. J1 regarding that studio. I called him to know if the owner had made up his mind and he replied that he was out on a business trip, so I would have to wait until the next day. Apart from more mails exchanged with the other agency lady that day was too, pretty uneventful.

On Friday morning, after getting to the office and having had my daily caffeine shot (did I mention this was a very stressful week?), I received a phone call from Mr. J1. Apparently the owner had returned from his trip and decided that I could keep the studio in the Pijp. There was only one tiny, tiny detail: I could not register at the address. Mr. J1 offered that I could register at his place instead. Oh my God, where on earth am I? Of course not. This was obviously not my reaction, but I told him that it could cause me some issues with the taxes, or something other that I was not currently aware, and declined the studio. He then proceeded to ask me to wait until Tuesday, when he would receive more apartment offers and, if he had nothing for me then, he would give me the commission back (where have I heard this before?).

So I waited through a weekend of partying, drinking, rocking, and rolling. In the meantime, I also agreed with the lady from the other agency that I would go with her to the Gemeente on Monday morning and we would try to get me registered at a temporary location, so I could fill the requisite to be eligible for the apartment at WesterPark (the newly renovated one, remember?).

(to be continued...)