7. Renting an apartment in Tel-Aviv
If asked to recall the most humbling… or perhaps humiliating… experience that I’ve had in this country, I would choose to tell the story about my first apartment rental.
In the U.S., I was used to renting apartments from a company. It was strictly transactional. As long as I paid the rent on time, no one would get on my case. In Israel, however, most apartments are owned by individuals. Nevertheless, I was surprised — and rather insulted — to find myself being interrogated by apartment owners, who seemed to view me with a healthy dose of suspicion.
“Young man, do you know how to clean?” asked one of them. “Of course not”, I answered sarcastically, unable to hide my irritation, “I let my mommy clean up after me.” Ding.
One lady wanted me to pay a year’s rent in advance, for the sake of her peace of mind. “I don’t have that kind of money.” Ding.
Another lady cried to me about her previous tenant, an American basketball player, who flew home without paying his international phone bill and left her holding the bag. The rental contract she offered me included the extraction of a pound of flesh in the event of a violation. I let this one go.
The situation was getting desperate. I had just started my new job, and I was living at a youth hostel out of my duffel bag. And I was running out of clean clothes.
Around this time, it was finally beginning to sink in that the apartment owners may have grown up in that very apartment. Or perhaps visited their granny there. The place might have some sentimental value for them and was not just a piece of real estate. Maybe the rent money was their sole source of income, and they were simply trying to protect their investment.
So I decided to play ball. Here goes… another Tel-Aviv apartment, another interview with another elderly couple. “Young man, do you know how to clean?” I was ready this time. “Well, of course”, I responded earnestly. “I know how important this apartment is to you, and I assure you that I’m going to look after your place as if it was my very own.”
Sold.
And just in time, too. I was wearing my last pair of clean underwear.
