I Resolve. . .

I resolve to turn over the proverbial new leaf, and that from here on out, I'll be the most perfect little worker bee possible. Or at least try. I'll drop the attitude, or do a better job of keeping it to myself. I'll practice my poker face and keep my snide comments to myself, or on this blog only. And while we're on cliches, I won't say anything at all unless it's something nice. Or something like that.

Can you tell that sometimes I really hate work and find it hard to just roll with the politics, policies, and the petty bullshit? But like most people who lack independent wealth, I need the money. Not so much so that I can "consume more," but in order to survive in the now and build towards future goals.

Trust me, my life isn't very lavish, or even very adventurous. I don't blow my money on shoes and designer clothing like a lot of young people I know. Most of my shirts cost under $20, for example. I enjoy dining out, but I mainly cook at home and rarely go to pricey restaurants when dining out. Expensive entertainment is a rare luxury in my world, which is fine by me. Books and DVDs or dinner parties with friends are more than enough to keep me happy and entertained. On the travel front, I honestly can't remember the last time I had a proper vacation or a fun road trip, not just a blessedly long weekend or a few days off to take care of personal business.

And guess what? Even those days off my employers begrudged me. They made sure to treat me to frequent phone calls and emails. One employer, upon my announcing my resignation, wanted to keep me well beyond the standard "two weeks' notice" period. And the next employer in line wanted an earlier start date. Had I not stood up for myself, I'd have had my last day at Job A on a Friday, and my first day at Job B the following Monday.

What's wrong with that, some of you might ask? A helluva lot, in my humble opinion. I am not so bound to money and routine that not having "someplace to go" every day for a couple of weeks would rock my world. It'd be a welcome relief, frankly. A person needs time off to decompress, re-organize, and sometimes to simply BE. Yes, our employers need people who can be counted on, but people with good track records should be given the benefit of the doubt. We should not have to apologize for this or explain it away.

Having a job sort of precludes having a life, it sometimes seems.

And yes, I do find myself asking, "Is that all there is to life?"

It can't be. I can't accept that. Thank goodness I at least live in a fun and interesting city.

And yet. . .the times when I had actual time to go to farflung places and do things, I didn't because, well, frankly the money was lacking. The eternal conundrum: plenty of time, but not enough money, or enough money, but no time.

Now that I make okay money but am still somewhat pressed for time due to seniority issues at work, my only hope is to really save money, and to take trips in between jobs. As for the saying, "It's easier to find a job when you have a job," well, I do believe that to some degree. But I also believe that I can do consulting in between gigs so that I on paper, I'm continuously employed.

Oh, and starting my own business isn't really an option at this point. I see most people who have their own businesses working MORE...my goal should be clear by this point. . .to work LESS but not be broke. Hell, I'd work 20 hours per week if I could get by with it and still make comparable money. Note to self: research this possibility.

Spotting A Nutjob Boss

First impressions matter. There's no doubt about that. But what if your first impression turns out to be wrong? If you're on a date, it could result in a tedious evening and funny/mortifying stories to tell your friends when you get home. Or, on the extreme side, it could end with assault or worse. The nice guy or girl turns out to be a dangerous psycho. Get out alive while you can!

So what happens when that apparently kind, personable, and seemingly fair potential boss becomes your real boss and turns out to be the opposite of who you thought he or she was? At least after a bad date, you don't necessarily have to wake up next to that person, much less ever see them again.

But an unhinged boss is a person you must deal with at least five days a week. Seeing them first thing in the morning is almost as bad as waking up next to them. And if you happen to wake up next to your unhinged boss some morning, then you have problems that are well beyond the scope of this blog.

I once considered myself a good judge of character--a person with fairly solid instincts. Like most people, I've been duped a couple of times. In the work realm, I've been mostly right but sometimes wrong about bosses. For every wrong, there was indeed hell to pay.

This one boss seemed perfectly fine. Balanced, even. I'd go so far as to say that I honestly thought this person was nice and looked forward to working at that company.

Time soon told a different tale. This person had a chaotic, frantic quality sometimes seen in mental hospitals. The whole office was run in fear and anticipation of the next meltdown. We could actually get real work done when the boss wasn't around, as opposed to when the boss was there, constantly whining and interrupting. Oh, and the ethics of the honcho were questionable to say the least.

That's all bad enough (and there was much, much more, a lot of which I've blocked out). But what was worse was the way this all made me doubt myself. (Co-workers privately confessed to feeling the same way). We all thought that we must be crazy if we hadn't somehow picked up on this nuttiness from the get-go. That's the danger "getting to know" someone on an interview.

Those masochistic veterans who'd been around for years took it all in stride, as if it were somehow normal. Watching us new people react must have been entertaining and kinda sad for them.

That's the thing about crazy people. They draw you in, and soon you're questioning your own sanity and ability to judge character. Since that work experience, I've become much more skeptical about people in general, particularly those I might one day be required to work with--or more importantly, work for. In my next job, mark my words, I will know, dammit-- via the grapevine or other inside information whether-- or not there are nutty people in the office.

And yes, I know this all goes both ways. We've all worked with or known someone who has worked with a crazy co-worker. It must suck to be the supervisor in a situation like that. But at least in that scenario the person in charge can exert their power, and if not fire, then at least make life difficult for the nutty employee.

None of this helps, of course, when the boss is the nutjob who is convinced that everyone else has some sort of a problem.

Like a friend of mine used to say--"Look at the situation and ask yourself what's the common denominator. If it's you, then maybe you've got to change."

Nutty bosses rarely venture to query themselves in this way, and if they do, I'd bet money that they don't see themselves as problematic.

Quick Hello

Have been under the weather for the past few days, and as real estate in the city sometimes makes me sick, I've avoided thinking about it as much as possible to avoid feeling worse. Will be back later this week to post on work woes and other topics, including the reality of moving in together too soon and the hassle and hells of crazy roommates. Stay tuned.

A Cruel Chess Game

Sometimes we all overhear things that really disturb us. Recently, I overheard an upsetting conversation at a building owner's office.

Employee to Landlord: "Mrs. Smith called. She wants to see if you can freeze
her rent--not decrease it, but she just wants it frozen for the next year. Her
husband died recently and she's having trouble making it on the money the
government gives her from his benefits."

Without a moment's
hesitation, the landlord says, "No way. Forget it. If she wants a cheaper
rent she can move to another apartment in one of our buildings."

In my head, I was picturing Mrs. Smith as a feeble old lady, one who had lived in her rent controlled apartment for decades and still has a kitchen that was considered cutting edge--in the 1950s. Later on, I found out that Mrs. Smith's rent was not cheap, at least not in non-investment banker terms. The rent's just under $2000 a month for a market rate apartment.

Hell, I couldn't swing that, and neither could most of my friends, even those with decent jobs. That's why most of us either shack up or have roommates. The reality is that almost none of the other apartments Mrs. Smith might consider are any cheaper than where she lives now. So she either stays where she is and endures a rent increase she can't really afford, or endures the stressful undertaking (and cost) of a move.

Rather than allow this woman to coast along at the same rent as she paid up until now, this greedy landlord expect a recently widowed, possibly broken hearted and perhaps financially broke woman to pick up her life and move. To leave the apartment she shared with her husband and that she has called home for years, all so the landlord could re-rent the place for a couple hundred bucks more a month.

What complete and utter nonsense. What cruelty. And instead of taking what I felt was a reasonable request in stride, the landlord went on to complain about how rent control should be abolished--to twist things around and play the victim. As if somehow the landlord were the innocent victim of the system. As if somehow that would make a penny's worth of difference. Rent control or no, some landlords would take every opportunity to raise the rent of anyone, even a mouse in the basement if doing so were a viable option.

In other (hypothetical) words, rent control should be abolished so greedy landlords can charge top dollar for shithole apartments in shoddily-maintained buildings laden with violations? A few rent controlled and stabilized units might indeed drag down the bottom line a bit, but the outrageous prices so many owners charge--and get--for the market rate apartments should balance things out. If not, clearly the landlord is not managing the properties properly.

If a landlord is so obsessed with lining pockets with cash, then perhaps they should hire one of the i-bankers they love to rent to to manage their stock portfolios. Stop getting rich off the backs of others. (I know, I'm delusional and dreaming.)

This my friends, is a ground level story about why New York is losing one of its most vital resources--interesting people. In the name of greed, eventually no one but the i-bankers will be able to afford to live here. The artists, the avant-garde, and the just plain weirdos who keep our city alive and real will move on. Some say they already have.

Full disclosure: I've done deals, and gotten paid commissions from my fair share of lawyers, doctors, and finance types. But I've also busted ass to land rent-stabilized places for artists, helped many students find the last affordable and viable apartments in Manhattan, and generally gone to bat for dozens of clients to get them into decent and affordable apartments.

So yes, new people with fresh hopes and creative leanings continue moving to NYC all the time. Lots of people still believe in the idea of bohemian, artist-friendly New York. I like to think we still have a few good years left, but when I see cold, heartless maneuvers like the above, my doubts kick in, and the good days seem numbered. I see red. I see a game of chess where winning moves are incredibly unkind, short-sighted, and cruel.

Disconnected

Long story short, my cell phone is broken beyond repair. It's a weird feeling, being this disconnected. It kinda spooked me initially, knowing that I can't call for help if anything bad happens. Nor can anyone reach me. Good thing I had nothing but a whole lot of nothing planned for this weekend. Otherwise I'd be SOL.

I'm in the process of using my wireless world connections to get a deal on a new (or new to me) phone. Adding to the disconnectedness, my land line, or at least the phone unit at home, croaked earlier this week. (Yes, I keep a landline. Perhaps that makes me seem impossibly old school and dated. Bear in mind: I was here in NY during 9-11, and phone service was erratic on both land lines and cells. I feel a smidge safer having a house phone.)

Seriously, only a select few people have my house phone number; I don't give it out; and I only use it when the cell is down or off because I can't stand the incessant ringing (really, vibing), anymore. In light of that, I'm quite fed up with paying around $50 a month for a house phone that's used more as a psychological safety net than anything else. So around 4 a.m. this morning, I ran across an infomercial for this: the Magic Jack.

It sounds almost too good to be true. The consumer reviews are somewhat mixed, but it seems that for light use, such as what I'd intend it for, it would be adequate. It hooks right into the DSL/high speed internet connection. If anyone has any thoughts on or experiences with this Jack thing, drop me a line or leave a comment.

In other news, I've added Google Analytics to this blog to help me track traffic, who is reading it, etc. A friend of mine tipped me off to it. We'll see if tech-challenged me can figure it out once it's gathered it's first round of data.

Gone in 60 Seconds

Like an unrepentent romantic who keeps hoping a wayward lover will be true one day, every broker lives with the never-ending hope that despite the usual pains and pangs of deal-making, there is easy money to be made in this business.

That hope gets dashed on a weekly basis, if not more often. Case in point: I have a space that came onto the market recently. I got the keys and the very next day got a great offer from the first person who saw it. What's more, the normally cautious landlord adored the clients, even saying, "I liked them so much I would've spent the rest of the afternoon talking with them. But I had another appointment."

That sort of gushing rarely happens with this landlord. It was all brilliantly painless and easy. The kind of easy when you almost feel guilty for cashing the commission check.

Just a few bits of paperwork, a quick credit check, and we would be all set to sign leases. Except the clients began dragging their feet regarding the paperwork and running the credit. I warned them that the landlord would think that they were losing interest. Since we both knew they were still very much interested (right?)--they should work to seal the deal pronto.

I remember feeling a twinge of worry at that point, but I brushed it aside.

I shouldn't have. They backed out the next day, saying that the space would cost them too much.

The landlord was so disappointed in the idea of losing them, and our deal, that he immediately knocked the rent down by several hundred dollars. I'm still waiting to hear back from the clients. Far from feeling elated, I'm feeling more resigned at this point. Frankly, I'll be surprised if this all works out.

There are no easy deals. That idealistic, optimistic part of me still wants to believe in easy money, even though obviously we should all know better by now.