PARTMENT FOR RENT. $600 PER MONTH. RIGHT DOWNTOWN. MALE PREFERRED’. This seems good, I thought, and it is on top of the pile, so it must be relatively new. I tore off one of the phone number tabs and gave the number a call.
“Hi, may I please speak with Chris?”
“Sorry, Chris is not here,” a woman’s voice answered. “He just stepped out for a moment, can I take a message?”
“Yes, I’m calling about his apartment for rent.”
“Oh wow, that was fast! He just left about twenty minutes ago to put ads around town. You’re the first one to call.”
“Oh really, okay well do you know when he will be back?”
“He should be back soon, I’ll tell him to give you a call when he gets in. By the way, what type of music do you listen to?”
“What type of music do I listen to?” I repeated just to make sure I heard her correctly. “I listen to rap music mostly.”
“That’s good, I listen to rap as well. I’ll tell you what; Chris should be back any minute, why don’t you come over now?”
Was this a date or an apartment viewing? Either way, I at least needed to check out the place that my secret password had just unlocked.
I took my time walking to the apartment in hopes Chris would be there before me. I arrived at the apartment building and punched in the buzzer number the woman had given me.
“Hello?” a man’s voice came on the speaker.
“Uh, hi, is this Chris?” I asked.
“Yes, is this Trevor?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”
I wrapped my fingers around the large door handle and waited for the faint buzzer sound. When I entered the lobby, my immediate impression was good. From what I could tell so far, the building was a lot nicer than my old apartment. The walls were white and clean, and the floor’s polished tiles were spotless. I checked out every detail of my new surroundings and imagined this as my new apartment. I stood in front of two stainless steel elevator doors and waited for one to open.
When I exited the elevator, I walked down a long hallway and found unit 318. I knocked a few times. I had no idea what to expect, but anything was better than being homeless.
“Hey, Trevor, come on in,” a clean-cut man said.
I entered and saw a woman with big hair sitting on a black leather sofa.
“This is my sister Anne-Marie, she currently lives here,” Chris said as he introduced me to the woman who was also into rap music.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, as I gave her a subtle wave. “This is a really nice place you guys have.”
“Thanks. Yeah, we just painted it last month.”
“The colours really look good together,” I said. One of the walls was a dark yellow, one was a shiny black, and the other was a dark red. There were a few Justin Bua prints hanging on the walls and some plants in the corner.
“So, what do you do, Trevor?”
“I’m the owner and operator of my own business. We do pressure washing, trash removal, small moves, yard work…pretty much anything really.” That was not exactly true, but I wasn’t about to worry him by saying I was unemployed and had no place to live; that might raise too many concerns about my character.
“How about you? Where do you work?”
“Have you heard of Andre’s Seafood Restaurant?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, I’m a server there.”
“Okay, cool.”
“So when do you need a place?” he asked.
I wanted to say ‘tonight!’ but I exercised better judgment. I didn’t want to seem desperate. “I gave my landlord one month notice so I need to be out by June 30th, but I would like to move out sooner just to get settled in.”
“Okay, well Anne-Marie is moving out on the 15th of July”.
“The 15th of July?” I repeated. That was in exactly one month. “That’s too bad, that won’t work for me unfortunately.”
The meeting wrapped up quickly, and no sooner than I arrived, I was taking another elevator ride. I stepped outside and exhaled a deep breath. I didn’t want to go back to the apartment so I needed a place to sit to clear my head.
I walked aimlessly down the streets of downtown Vancouver. The bright neon lights lit up the sky and made me feel like I wasn’t alone through all of this. I walked by a movie theatre and decided to check out something that was playing, preferably a comedy.
Going to the movies might not be considered the most practical thing to do at that moment, but I was out of options. I needed to be around people and do something normal, something that would cheer me up.
As the movie was playing, I tried to relax, but it was no use. There was no way to shut my brain off. I was in a serious predicament. I desperately needed both money and an apartment. In short, I needed a miracle. I kept thinking about all the long hours that I slaved away in the hot sun and the freezing rain, all the money and time I had invested in the company, all for nothing.
At around 11:00 p.m., my phone vibrated. My initial thought was that Mr. Channing was looking to apologize, or perhaps looking to kick me in the head. Either way, I didn’t want to speak to him, and he was certainly not going to find me. I took out my phone and looked at the number. I didn’t recognize it.
“Hello?” I said as quietly as possible.
“Trevor? It’s Miguel, what’s up brother?”
“Hey, Miguel, how’s it going?”
“Things are good with me as always, you know.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Miguel.”
“Hey, Trevor, I’m sorry to bother you, man, you sound busy, but I was just calling to see if you were still looking for an apartment?”
“Yes, I’m,” I said with a hushed excitement, still conscious of the fact I was in a movie theatre.
“Okay, great, there is an apartment available in my building. I know the manager so it’s yours if you want it.”
“Sure, when can I see it?”
“You can come over right now if you like.”
I immediately walked out of the movie and called a moving company. Due to the late hour, the movers agreed to help me, but they would charge me a small fortune. I didn’t have a small fortune, but I also didn’t have a lot of options. I was in no position to negotiate.
I cautiously made my way back to the apartment. Mr. Channing and Darrell were nowhere in sight.
The movers arrived shortly after and we moved the little furniture I had into their one-tonne truck. I had a bed, a small couch, a TV, some dishes, two duffel bags filled with clothes and shoes, and a couple of boxes.
It was a bit unusual to get an apartment at twelve o’clock at night, especially since I had not seen it and the landlord had not even met me yet, but I didn’t think too much of it.
I showed up to the address that Miguel had given me. When I arrived, I saw Miguel standing on the corner waving his hands in the air with a huge smile on his face. I hopped out of the moving truck and looked at my new home. It became immediately apparent why the landlord did not need to meet with me beforehand. It was definitely not the Trump, but as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.
The building was an old three story building in desperate need of a paint job. There was a pub on the ground level with stragglers hanging around outside, drinking and smoking.
“Hey, you made it. Welcome,” Miguel greeted me with a big hug. “See, I told you Miguel would come through for you.”
Miguel was far more excited than I was, but he would get excited by pretty much anything. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the landlord.”
“Can’t wait,” I said meagerly, as I forced a smile.
Miguel led the way, talking a mile a minute. It was obvious he had been drinking a little bit and this had heightened his already positive energy. “Hey, you know what the best part of this place is?”
“Tell me.”
“Guess again,” he said with a huge smile on his face.
“Okay, let me guess. Is it the pub?”
“You got it! Plus, I live here.”
I like to go out and have a good time, but I didn’t want the party near my house. I could already imagine all the drunk people screaming and getting into fights at all hours of the night. But again, what choice did I have?
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Miguel’s tone came down a notch as if he was about to reveal the truth behind this shady midnight deal. “The owner is out of town, okay. He owns the whole building – some rich Chinese guy. No one has heard from him in months. Last I heard, he was in China and completely forgot about this building. Some people pay rent, but most don’t. We have a building manager, that’s who you’re about to meet, but he is a bit of a joke. So, just pay the manager the first month’s rent just to get the place, and then you can decide what you’re going to do after that.”
“So, the manager doesn’t care if people pay rent?”
“No, he is a tenant like us, but he agreed to manage the property in exchange for free rent.”
“Some job he’s doing,” I remarked.
“Yeah, he’s not really altogether this one, he claims to be a servant of god. Come on, let’s meet him.”
Raashid was a 55-year-old immigrant – never married, no kids, no job, just lived in a tiny bachelor apartment in a rundown building that he did the very least to manage.
“Raashid, this is Trevor, the guy I was telling you about.” Raashid looked very pleased to be of some assistance. I got the impression he did not have many friends and liked to help people out whenever he could.
“Hello, Mr. Raashid, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Trevor,” he said with a thick Middle Eastern accent and a warm smile on his face.
“So I understand you have an apartment for rent?”
“Yes, I have two actually, you can take your pick. One is not quite vacant. The other one is a large one-bedroom.”
“The one bedroom sounds fine, I’ll take that one.”
“Wonderful. The rent is $900 plus an additional $450 for damage deposit,” he said with a big smile. I had mixed feelings about Raashid. I could tell he had a kind heart, but this was still a pretty shady deal conducted in the late hours of the night with no forms to fill out and Miguel as the broker. Nevertheless, I had no choice but to trust him.
“How about I give you $450 now for the remainder of the month, and I will pay you the rest on the first of next month?” I proposed. It made sense, but it was a bit of a gamble. He could have demanded full payment and I would have been screwed, but I didn’t think he would turn me away in the middle of the night.
I still needed to pay the mover $200.00, which would leave me with a little over $700.00. From what Miguel had said, Raashid was not too concerned about people paying their rent, so it made no sense for me to give him all my money.
“Okay okay, that is fine, you pay me the $450 now, and the rest later. No problem.”
I counted out $450.00 cash and handed it to him. In exchange he wrote me a receipt on the back of an unused postcard and handed it to me.
“Come. I will show you the apartment,” he said.
I instructed the movers to follow me with my stuff.
“Is there an elevator in this place?” one of the movers asked.
“Hey, Miguel, is there an elevator in this building?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t work. Your apartment is on the second floor so it’s no big deal.”
On our way up the stairs we passed a coin-operated laundry room. “How about these,” I asked, “do these work?”
“One of the washers works, but none of the dryers work. Someone smashed the coin slot on the washer so you just have to jimmy with it and it will work for free. There is a laundromat just up the street; you can take your things there to dry. Oh, and be careful because someone broke the lock on the laundry room door so make sure you watch your clothes so they don’t get stolen.”
Moments later, we arrived at the apartment. Raashid had a hard time finding the right key among his large key ring, but we eventually got into the unit. “Okay, here you are, and here is your key,” Raashid said as he handed me my key.
“Thank you, Raashid. I will see you later. Have a good night.”
I flipped on the light switch, but nothing happened. Fortunately there was enough light coming in from a streetlight that was near my window so the movers could see where they were going.
After the movers finished with the rest of my stuff, I paid them and they left.
I couldn’t really see much, but the apartment didn’t seem too bad. It was a decent size at least.
“Hey, this is a nice place, man,” Miguel said as he looked around.
I was not sure what a one-bedroom apartment looked like in Mexico, but clearly we had different standards. It was definitely not ‘nice’, but it would have to do. I was just happy to have a roof over my head.
“Thanks again, Miguel. You don’t know how much you have saved me, really.”
“Hey, no problem man. Anytime.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I said.
“Okay, man, have a good night. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Just like that, everyone was gone and the place was quiet. I somehow secured an apartment at the last possible moment. As much as I would have liked to celebrate, I still needed a job. I had two weeks to come up with another $900 for next month’s rent, plus the $450 I owed for the damage deposit, plus living expenses. It pained me to think about it, but I was not in a good position.
It was late and I had had a long and miserable day. I just wanted some rest. I was too tired to unpack any of my things so I just curled up on my bare mattress and went to sleep.
C H A P T E R
T W E L V E
When I woke up, I went around and inspected my new apartment for the first time. In the light of day, I could really notice how old and dingy the place was. The carpets were thick orangey-brown shag, probably concealing horrible stains. The kitchen cabinets had a fake wood laminate on them, which was peeling off in most places. All the fixtures and knobs had not been updated since the place was built in the 60’s. There were dirty finger marks on the walls and the entire place smelled like an old shoe. I didn’t even want to look at the bathroom. I didn’t see any signs of rodents or critters, but I was sure they were not too far away. I was not very impressed to say the least.
I walked over to the curtain-less window in my room to check out the view. The windows, like everything else, were completely filthy. The view from my second floor apartment overlooked the alley behind the building. As I looked out, I saw a homeless man digging through one of the dumpsters. I stared at this man for a moment and was captivated. Circumstances in his life forced him to do something that he would probably not want to do otherwise. Could I be this bum? I thought. Is this how my life will turn out? Sure, I was not digging through a dumpster, but I was not much better off than he was.
Ever since I arrived in Vancouver, my life had trended downwards. Given another month, it was quite possible I would be doing the same thing he was doing. I was barely treading water, fighting for survival, and I felt like I could drown at any moment.
I took a long look around my dark bedroom. There were boxes and bags scattered everywhere with no order and no purpose, it kind of reflected my life at the moment. Standing there, taking it all in, I started to think about all the stuff I had been through over the past year since I moved out. It wasn’t obvious what my next move was going to be. Where do I go from here? How did I end up like this?
A year ago, I was thriving. I had lots of money and ambition, but now my life was going in the exact opposite direction I wanted it to go. The more I thought about it, the more upset it made me. I slowly began to break down emotionally. Soon after, my emotions completely consumed me and I could no longer stand the pain. I had reached my breaking point.
I dropped to my knees,
and began to cry. I was completely broken. What started out as a slow pathetic weep soon escalated into something beyond my control. I felt like I was paralyzed and all I could do was scream. It felt like the tears were going to ooze out of every pore of my body and just drain me until I had nothing left. There was no more fight left in me, I had been defeated.
It was time to face the cold harsh reality that my venture into the real world had ended in disaster. As the pain grew stronger, I could no longer function. Like a ton of bricks, I was hit with the worst possible depression; it was unlike anything I had ever felt before in my life. It was almost as if any ounce of hope that was remaining had suddenly been stripped away. My future looked bleak, as if I had been left for dead and nobody was coming to save me. As hard as I tried, I could not just snap out of it. My emotions, now in overdrive, rendered me helpless as I collapsed onto the dirty floor. This was it. I was all alone in this scary world and completely helpless. I had hit rock bottom. My life sucks.
Somehow, I managed to lift myself up and crawl over to my mattress. I guess I still had enough sense in me not to be on that dirty floor for too long. I flopped onto the bare mattress and just laid there, face down, and continued to cry for hours.
As I laid on the mattress, I thought about a lot of things. Like a mathematician who had made a few mistakes along the way, I methodically analyzed my life to see where I had gone wrong. I went over every detail, every choice I had made in the past year, every conversation, every reaction, and every relationship.
I was a big failure. I allowed a loser into my life and now my life was in ruins because of it. What made matters worse was the realization I had no one to blame but myself. If only I could do it all over again, if only I had another chance, I would be smarter, I would learn from my mistakes.
That’s when it hit me. I realized I could have a second chance; I could turn these negatives into positives. If this was rock bottom, then the only way to go from here was up. I could have sat there and cried all day feeling sorry for myself, or I could figure out how to get out of the mess I was in. I needed to take action. I needed to force change. I was down, but not out. Like a champion who had been knocked down in a late round of a fight, I had somehow summoned enough strength to continue to endure the pain. This wasn’t my life. This wasn’t my destiny. There had been a mistake. This was not supposed to happen to me.
The tears stopped and I began to pick myself up again. I was a fighter, not a quitter. I was a winner, not a loser. Using these thoughts as a mantra, I began to get my head back on straight and tell myself everything would be okay. I felt like I was making progress.
Thinking back on the events that lead me to where I was, there were some pretty obvious things I did wrong. I went against my own intuition. Never again would I let someone be a negative influence on me. I needed to trust my instincts and be more cautious as to who I surrounded myself with. I needed to surround myself with positive people who would help me grow, not bring me down. And if I ever went into business again, I needed to choose my business partners wisely.
I kept thinking about all the lessons I could learn from my experiences so I would never be in this situation again. I needed to relearn the importance of financial responsibility. I used to be really good with my money and not spend it on stuff I didn’t need. I had nearly eight grand saved up from my time in Banff, but within a few short months I had nothing left.
I had experienced a minor setback, but this wasn’t the end for me. I would continue on, much wiser, as I had now gained valuable knowledge from this experience. Maybe this is what life is all about; people need to go through stuff in order to develop.
C H A P T E R
T H I R T E E N
I heard a saying once that God would never put you in a situation you do not have the power to overcome. I wasn’t a religious person per se, but this statement resonated with me for some reason. I knew I could overcome this hardship. It was the first major obstacle in my life since I had moved out, but that’s all it was, an obstacle, not the end of the road.
I thought long and hard about my life and the situation I was in and I decided what I had to do. The first order of business was to get out of the depressing apartment.
As I made my way down the stairs, I noticed the handrail had been ripped off the wall and was now lying on the stairs. It must have had an unfortunate encounter with a drunk person stumbling home last night.
I knocked on Raashid’s door.
“Oh, hello,” Raashid answered.
“Hi, Raashid. I’m sorry to bother you, but you mentioned there was another apartment available and I was wondering if I could take a look at it please?” I said, like a man who was on a mission.
“Oh sure, no problem. The tenants moved out this morning. Don’t go anywhere; I will be right back with the key.” Raashid scurried off into his lair. A few moments later he came back. “Okay, here you go. The unit number is 2E.”
“Thanks, Raashid,” I said as I ran back upstairs to check out the other apartment.
I inserted the key into 2E. It was on the opposite side of the hall so I knew it would not be facing the alley. When I opened the door, I felt the warmth of the sun immediately. The place was bright and the view was much better too. I stood at the window and was now overlooking a beautiful park. I guess I didn’t really learn to appreciate trees and greenery until I no longer had it.
Things were starting to look better already. The place was similar to the first one, it had the same thick orange shag carpet, same fixtures, but this suite had two bedrooms. I didn’t really consider how much extra the rent would be, but with the extra bedroom I could always get a roommate to make the rent cheaper for me.
I went back to the first apartment and slowly dragged all my stuff down the hall and into my new place. I arranged the few pieces of furniture I had and organized my kitchen and bedroom. I spent a few hours tidying and cleaning, disinfecting all the counters, light switches, and doorknobs. After all that was done, I tackled the bathroom.
As I emptied the last of my things out of one of the boxes, a card fell out and onto the floor. I picked it up and opened it.
Dear Trevor
Thanks again for spending time with me and showing me around. If you are ever in Vancouver, give me a call and I can return the favor. Love Ashley.
“Oh my god,” I said aloud. I hadn’t seen this card since I lived in Banff. I didn’t even know that I still had it. I had completely forgotten that Ashley lived in Vancouver.
I quickly grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number she had left. After a few rings, a voice came on. “This is Ashley, leave a message.”
The Art of the Hustle Page 14