Condo Conversion-alooza Displaces Seattlest ... Sort Of
This summer, Seattlest thought we were smart. Oh so smart. We were engaged. Our financial missteps were behind us. We’d plotted to start saving dough—to get a less-expensive apartment, sock the monthly savings into a high-yield account and, in a couple of years, look for a condo or fixer-upper in West Seattle.
Rent something cheaper now; buy something modest later. Damn, it felt good to be a forward-thinker.
So we searched for that less-expensive apartment. For months.
Unfortunately, we hadn’t yet drafted these handy Seattle-apartment-seeking rules:
1. Ditch your pets. At least 50% of places don’t take them, and the rest charge (a fucking lot) for the convenience. This is why we have animal shelters.
2. Ditch your significant other. Or your roommates, family, whoever you currently live with. In the long run, a studio will save you more money than a 1BR or something larger. Don’t share your space—be the king of it.3. Ditch your stuff. Less stuff = less square footage. Do you really need furniture, clothes, and all that sentimental-value crap?
4. Don’t “look forward to hearing back.” Expectation leads to disappointment. Move on to the next listing and consider yourself lucky if you get a call or reply.
5. Be wary of multi-amenity units. DW? W/D? Private balcony? All condo bait. The more, the scarier.
6. Check seattle.gov for building sales, condo permit requests, etc. We wish we’d known this right off the bat.
7. Check apartmentratings.com. The reviews are brutally honest. Honestly, sometimes too brutal. But a good gauge of how tenants like a place.
8. Ditch your budget. Between deposits and the very likely event that you’ll have to double-up on rent for a month, any long-term cash you might save is already gone.
9. Lower your standards. If the apartment’s in a good location, all other considerations—aesthetics, amenities, safety—should be secondary. And vice versa.
10. Trust no one. Not apartment managers. Not leasing agents. Not unit owners. They owe you nothing.
Ignorantly, we called and emailed a million places we found on the internets and on sandwich boards, signs in windows and flyers on bulletin boards. Maybe 2% of our inquiries garnered responses. Of the dozen places we actually viewed, three or four would accommodate the Seattlest pet-and-possession parade.
A few weeks ago, though, we found a place. At West Seattle's Watermarke, which boasted amenities we don’t have in our current, overpriced Queen Anne place. We bit. We bit and packed our shit, paid application fees, dropped money on a deposit, gave notice to our current manager and toasted ourselves. To our forward-thinking!
But we hadn’t planned well, we weren’t smart. We hadn’t played by the aforementioned rules.
There are no “less-expensive” 1BR apartments in Seattle. None with the space and legal allowances for two people, two cats, IKEA furnishings, and random shit that people acquire over 30-odd years. None in Queen Anne. None in Green Lake or Wallingford. None in Fremont, Ballard, Phinney. None in West Seattle.
Because what hasn’t gone condo in the last few years is going condo now. Nearly 1,500 Seattle apartments already have this year. And the conversionistas lurk, ready to pounce, fuck with tenants’ lives and tear the hopes out of their collective heart. Because, as the P-I notes, there's no cap on condo conversions in our city.
Accordingly, two days before our expected move-in date, we got a call.
Watermarke manager: “Oops, sorry, our building was sold to condo people this weekend. We’re asking everyone to move out. So you can’t move in.”
Seattlest: [shocked silence]
So our apartment search, initially conducted on our own terms and in our own leisurely manner, suddenly became a stressful scramble. People were already lined up for the place we were supposed to be leaving. Shit.
A week went by and we had no real leads and no hope that the supposedly accommodating Craigslist Gods would save us. (Everyone swears by the posts; no one vouches for the non-communicative people who write them. Who are you people, anyway? Do you respond to anyone?)
Over the long holiday weekend, we managed to not only get a building manager on the phone, but to see the available unit and get down to the brass tacks of paperwork. And this time we’d done some research; seattle.gov revealed nothing, our new, helpful friend at WSB knew nothing. But something felt wrong about the place; the building was eerily sleepy, the manager was new, the amenities abundant... Weird.
So, pen poised over application, we half-jokingly asked the guy if the building was on the market. Why, yes! But hey, you’d have 90 days to vacate if it was sold! Fuck us gently with a chainsaw. We walked away, bitter and cynical and formulating more rules in our head.
Now, the sand has piled high in the hourglass’ pit. We've pretty much given up on finding something “less expensive." And the competition—thanks to conversions going unchecked, and ignorant idiots like us—is fierce. We make calls. We search. We view a place. We search. We submit apps. We search. (Seriously, is it that hard to exhibit some courtesy and return a call?)
But, things could be worse. We could have had the bad news delivered under our door a week into our residency. And hey, misery does love company.
As you grow ever more desperate and pissed off, Seattle apartment-seekers—despite the savvy employment of our rules, sadly—don’t forget those who’re looking out for you. No, not Seattlest. Your state legislators!
Ahem. Is anyone out there, other than you, having better luck?
Taped sign by ERIK98122; now-defunct brick apartment by Seattle Daily Photo. Both from our flickr pool.
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