Welcome to San Francisco

A Southerner’s First Visit

My wife and I moved to San Francisco two months ago so I can work on my second startup. Good friends of ours were out of town and generously let us stay in their SoMa apartment for two weeks free of charge as we endured the mandatory SF apartment hazing. Between frustratingly overrun open houses and meetings with pet-hating landlords, we would de-stress by taking walks on the Embarcadero near AT&T park.

On one such stroll, we struck up a conversation with a young couple walking two golden retrievers. We mentioned that we were moving from North Carolina and the woman launched into a refrain that had become familiar to us:

“You’re just going to LOVE it here,” she gushed.

“It’s been great so far,” I responded, “but the rents are absurd!”

She made an understanding face, “I know, but it’s worth it to be in the city! I was on business out in Iowa a few weeks back and I went to a party at a coworkers house.”

She paused to re-adjust her oversize sunglasses.

“The house was amazing, and it was like $150,000. I thought, ‘I could just buy this with cash right now. But then I’d be in Iowa and I’d have to fucking kill myself.’”

Her partner made a face as if to say “definitely,” and shook his head.

My wife and I finished petting the dogs and continued walking. After we’d gotten a few feet away, my wife leaned over and whispered “welcome to San Francisco!”

Photo credit Jill Clardy.