An apartment shop. Everything about it was pure nasty.
Driving into the place, there was graffiti everywhere. Guys hanging out at the playground, or what was left of it, drinking. The only green lawn was in front of the leasing office.
These were garden style apartments with an entry door and a patio on the opposite side. I went to the entry door of the leasing office. It stank of new and old urine.
I went to the patio, and realized that was the entry. The agent took me on a main path tour, pointing out the amenities as we stepped over meth pipes. The fitness center had crime tape on the door. I asked if I could see the laundry center. She said no. I didn't ask why not.
There was crime tape on several doors, including the one next to where we were going.
Inside of the apartment, they tried to cover the stench of weed, body fluids, and something bad with a Plug In. It didn't work.
I went through the motions of the shop, but I couldn't wait to get out of there.
The agent called me a few days later to ask if I was still interested. I said that I wasn't. She asked why. I told her that place was too hard times for my taste.
My report was objective and professional, but I told the scheduler that I would not be doing any more of her apartments.
I changed my mind when she offered me an apartment with a nice bonus and an ocean view.
"I told myself to quit you; but I don't listen to drunks." -Chris Stapleton
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/21/2017 05:36PM by HonnyBrown.