A College Student’s Long Battle against a Malicious Slumlord
The state of my mental health during my first year away from home
Moving away from home never goes as expected. However, most people wouldn’t add a merciless slumlord on their list of typical college experiences.
I moved to another city two years ago pursuing a college program that wasn’t offered in my hometown. My mom ended up moving out of state but my dad was still an hour away. I moved to a large city knowing absolutely nobody besides my long-term friend who decided to move with me.
Since I changed majors last minute, we only had a couple weeks to find an apartment with a very small budget. Not knowing the city very well, we quickly decided on a seemingly nice apartment within our budget.
Upon first arrival, I got a few comments from my mom and my S.O. that the neighborhood did not seem very safe, which I shrugged off. When we were bringing boxes into my unit, there was a maintenance man who seemed genuinely concerned that I was moving in and told me that I should just turn back.
My friend decided to move in the day after I did, so the first night, only my mom and S.O. were there to spend the night with me.
That first night, there were gunshots. I tried ignoring the signs that I’d made a grave mistake because I wanted to feel confident in my decision that I’d finally made an adult move.
After that first night, it was just my roommate and me.
My mom moved out of state, so visiting her whenever things got uncomfortable wasn’t an option. My S.O. and dad were both an hour away from me, so we had to plan accordingly for visits.
It didn’t take long for me to register that the late-night gun-shots were one of the many perks of our neighborhood, and when the school year started, even walking out in broad daylight became a nightmare.
The bus stop was only a ten-minute walk, but many men would call from their buildings or take a detour to approach me. It got to the point where I refused to walk outside unless I was on the phone with someone. It also got to the point where I realized that to some people, it didn’t matter if you were on the phone.
On one of my walks to the bus stop, a car started to follow alongside me, matching my pace. The windows were tinted, so I wasn’t able to see anyone inside. I stopped walking, and the car braked immediately. There were no shops to run inside of, so I quickly crossed the street and ran for my safety blanket that day: a mailman. The car sped to the stoplight and did a U-turn, but passed me once they realized I had company. By the time I reached the mailman, I was sobbing. Luckily, he was kind enough to wait with me until I felt comfortable enough to walk again.
Not even two months later, I got a notice on my door.
Management had decided to sell, informing us we now had a new landlord. The second letter on my door was from the new landlord, claiming he planned on renovating the entire building and giving us thirty days to leave.
After lots of panic, my S.O., roommate, and I decided to go to their office and confront them about it. Once I brought up our year-long lease, the receptionist looked dumbfounded. I handed it to her and she disappeared, returning a few minutes later.
She sighed and handed it back to me. “Well, you have a year lease, so I guess you can stay.”
Despite living in a bad neighborhood, I was happy I didn’t have to endure moving to another place during the school year. Throughout the month, I watched as people from my building quickly vacated, and by the end of thirty days, my roommate and I were the only people left.
One night, there was a knock at my door. A man handed me some papers and told me to show up to my court date.
My landlord was pressing charges against me for not leaving.
My name was the only name listed, despite my roommate also being on the lease. That’s what I’d gotten in return for always dealing with management when something needed to be fixed. Despite her not having to go to school or work, not having her own car to take on errands, and staying home all day playing video games, my roommate decided she was now too stressed out to deal with this. She decided to move back to her mother’s house.
I was alone in violent territory.
Then the renovations started.
Daily, I was woken up around six in the morning by construction workers tearing apart the building. The hammering and drilling sometimes didn’t stop until ten at night. When the workers saw me come out of my unit, they were surprised that I was there.
Almost as if management told them that the entire building was vacated and they didn’t have to worry about causing unsafe living situations.
I went back to the landlord’s main office and asked why I got served court papers after someone reviewed my lease and allowed me to remain living in the building. They told me they didn’t remember anyone clearing that with them. I showed a different worker my lease, and they once again cleared it. However, I didn’t trust the company one bit and still intended on showing up to court.
I continued going to school like normal, and I let my math professor know a couple weeks ahead of time that I had to be in court for one of her class periods. She was very strict and quick to deduct points for missing even fifteen minutes of her precious class time, but I was sure she’d understand. Of course, I was wrong. She asked if I was “sure” that I couldn’t make it, and even seemed reluctant to letting me go without penalty.
I showed up to court, and they told me the case was dropped. I did, however, get a record for eviction despite not being evicted.
I gained an eviction record, and my roommate got to take shelter under her mother’s wing.
Over the course of the renovation period, my unit has gone through flooding due to renovators messing with the upstairs pipes, a weekend without hot water (in November, so small snow flurries weren’t uncommon), and renovators taking out my windows and replacing them but not getting around to finishing them with insulation for over a week.
When the school semester was over and my lease finally ended, I managed to get an apartment with my S.O. in a somewhat nicer area thirty minutes away. It was an inconvenient drive to school, but it was worth it. I also met a woman through a pet-sitting opportunity who managed to become a dear friend of mine. She also supported me through this and helped me move.
Before we initially moved in, I noticed the typical landmarks of my old landlord on the apartments next door. Aware that he owned all of the apartments but this one on the block, I asked management if they planned on selling to him. They told me that they did not want to sell because they just bought the building, so my S.O. and I were quite happy.
I was navigating the new semester quite well, until I got a call from my S.O. when I was in class. He told me that I would probably have to sit down and remain calm.
Of course I wasn’t. It was October, the same time it happened last year.
He told me it was happening again. Management called him and explained that the property was being sold to the same landlord that ruined my living situation at the last apartment. The man explained that he liked us as tenants and was willing to find us another apartment that was under their name and just transfer our lease. Only a week passed since the apartment changed hands and they were already starting renovations with all of the tenants still inside.
Within a few weeks, we were moved into our third apartment on one of the nicest parts of town. With my eviction record and my S.O. having nearly zero renting experience, we would have never gotten an apartment in that area on our own. Even now, we do not meet the rental requirements that it was listed for, such as making an income three times the rent and having a good credit score.
The past year and a half has been one of the most traumatic experiences in my life, but it showed me who was actually there to support me when I needed it most. Things happen for a reason, and in this case, the slumlord taking over my second apartment led me to a part of the city free of his buildings, so I can give him the middle finger from as far away as possible.
