junctionalfunkie
Bluelighter
I'm so fucking mad.
I signed a lease (13 months) in May for an apartment in a complex here in Austin. I went to the initial meeting with an apartment locator, so of course the complex agents gave the total hard sell. Now, during this "interview" or whatever you want to call it, I was provided with very professional, glossy booklets describing the luxurious amenities this place (CBO) had on site: Pools, Basketball Courts, and an indoor gym. Unfortunately, I was very physically sick that day, and sat in the car most of the time, except to come in and sign the lease.
Now then, since May, I have used the pools often, and vaguely wondered where this mysterious basketball court and indoor, Nautilus-laden gymnasium might be hidden. (I'm pretty lazy, so I didn't wonder too seriously.)
About a month ago, I go to the apartment complex office to pay my rent, and casually ask the woman there where the indoor gym is. "Gym?" she says, her face a mask of confusion. "There's no gym here."
Well, I assumed I was mistaken about the brochure or whatever, so I forgot about it.
Until yesterday, when I found the glossy, full-color booklet advocating the amenities of CBO in all their gleaming detail. I was furious! (I had had a couple glasses of wine,at this point.)
At this point, I should mention that about 3 weeks ago, CBO was sold to another company, MGW.
So, I storm down to the office, 20 minutes before it closed at 6pm, right into what appeared to be a meeting of managers. I explained to them how much a part their fantastical amenities had played in my decision to move into their complex. They seemed confused.
I put the booklet on the desk and opened it to the page depicting a friendly, racially diverse group of pretty people enjoying a pick-up basketball game.
"That's a basketball court, right?" I asked. "Where is it?"
"We don't have one," someone said quietly.
I turned the page to the photo of the new and spotless indoor gym, laden with modern exercise equipment.
"That's the gym, right? Where is it?"
Same answer. Then one of the women (they were all women, about 5 or 6 of them) said something I had been expecting:
"Sir, that brochure depicts the amenities available at CBO complexes in general, not necessarily at this location."
I was ready for this. I flipped the booklet to its rear cover and pointed to the lone address: 3209 S. I-35, Austin. The very location we were standing in. CBO has 3 or 4 other complexes around town, but only this one has been sold to MGW).
Finally, one woman mustered the gumption to speak:
"Sir, I think you need to read your contract."
"Oh, really?" I retorted. "I suppose there's a clause in the contract that allows you to promise whatever visionary or conceptual amenities float into your heads, in order to dupe people into renting here? Right? Why stop at basketball courts? Why not promise personal helipads, free rent every other month?"
At this point, I was so livid, I spun on my heel and headed for the door.
"You can't do this to people," I snarled. "People live here work very hard and lying to them like this is wrong. This is going to cost you people a lot of money."
And I left.
What should I do? Contact a lawyer? The BBB? Make up signs and put them all over the complex to list support from residents?
This is the second time in 6 months I've been fucked by real estate companies.
I'm gonna go live in a tree.
I signed a lease (13 months) in May for an apartment in a complex here in Austin. I went to the initial meeting with an apartment locator, so of course the complex agents gave the total hard sell. Now, during this "interview" or whatever you want to call it, I was provided with very professional, glossy booklets describing the luxurious amenities this place (CBO) had on site: Pools, Basketball Courts, and an indoor gym. Unfortunately, I was very physically sick that day, and sat in the car most of the time, except to come in and sign the lease.
Now then, since May, I have used the pools often, and vaguely wondered where this mysterious basketball court and indoor, Nautilus-laden gymnasium might be hidden. (I'm pretty lazy, so I didn't wonder too seriously.)
About a month ago, I go to the apartment complex office to pay my rent, and casually ask the woman there where the indoor gym is. "Gym?" she says, her face a mask of confusion. "There's no gym here."
Well, I assumed I was mistaken about the brochure or whatever, so I forgot about it.
Until yesterday, when I found the glossy, full-color booklet advocating the amenities of CBO in all their gleaming detail. I was furious! (I had had a couple glasses of wine,at this point.)
At this point, I should mention that about 3 weeks ago, CBO was sold to another company, MGW.
So, I storm down to the office, 20 minutes before it closed at 6pm, right into what appeared to be a meeting of managers. I explained to them how much a part their fantastical amenities had played in my decision to move into their complex. They seemed confused.
I put the booklet on the desk and opened it to the page depicting a friendly, racially diverse group of pretty people enjoying a pick-up basketball game.
"That's a basketball court, right?" I asked. "Where is it?"
"We don't have one," someone said quietly.
I turned the page to the photo of the new and spotless indoor gym, laden with modern exercise equipment.
"That's the gym, right? Where is it?"
Same answer. Then one of the women (they were all women, about 5 or 6 of them) said something I had been expecting:
"Sir, that brochure depicts the amenities available at CBO complexes in general, not necessarily at this location."
I was ready for this. I flipped the booklet to its rear cover and pointed to the lone address: 3209 S. I-35, Austin. The very location we were standing in. CBO has 3 or 4 other complexes around town, but only this one has been sold to MGW).
Finally, one woman mustered the gumption to speak:
"Sir, I think you need to read your contract."
"Oh, really?" I retorted. "I suppose there's a clause in the contract that allows you to promise whatever visionary or conceptual amenities float into your heads, in order to dupe people into renting here? Right? Why stop at basketball courts? Why not promise personal helipads, free rent every other month?"
At this point, I was so livid, I spun on my heel and headed for the door.
"You can't do this to people," I snarled. "People live here work very hard and lying to them like this is wrong. This is going to cost you people a lot of money."
And I left.
What should I do? Contact a lawyer? The BBB? Make up signs and put them all over the complex to list support from residents?
This is the second time in 6 months I've been fucked by real estate companies.
I'm gonna go live in a tree.
Did you involve a lawyer? Because I know armies of them (including daddy, who is particularly bloodthirsty and contracts is his specialty).
