It’s been one whole year since I dove face-first into a 30-year mortgage.
Before my leap from renter to homeowner, I did what you’re supposed to do: I read articles and books, and I talked to lots of people. But there are some things nobody can warn you about owning your own place, especially if that place is in a building inhabited by a couple dozen tidy, respectable, workaholic young professionals who can’t be bothered to say “Good morning,” who don’t know how to clean the lint out of the community dryers and who keep stealing your newspaper.
All in all, though, it’s been easier than I thought. Despite the leaky roof, busted boiler, talking sink, sex scandal, break-in, and the vicious gang of newspaper kidnapers on the loose, I’ve been lucky.
But there are questions I wish I’d asked. So, with favorable interest rates beckoning to the first-time home buyer, I thought I’d pass along a few things I’ve learned, a few things I regret, and some other stuff I know after one year in Condo Land.
Love thy building manager
I somehow thought that by buying a condominium I’d forever be free of landlords, building supervisors and anyone else I couldn’t control. I figured if something breaks, I call the plumber, electrician, dry-waller and get it fixed myself. I wait for no one, right?
Who knew there’d be things I didn’t have to fix-like the plumbing, or the hissing radiator? It didn’t occur to me to ask the previous owner about the quality of the management company or the building manager they employ. He or she could have been a nightmare equal to a lousy landlord.
Instead, I got lucky. I got The World’s Greatest Building Superintendent, Painter, Roofer, Jar Opener, and All-Around Good Guy. For example:
– Before I moved in, he painted the whole place in a day and a half. He brought an electrician buddy in to install ceiling fans.
– Three months after I moved in, the bathtub and sink wouldn’t drain. I called him in the morning. It’s fixed by the time I come home from work.
– A woman on another floor realized at work that she didn’t have her home keys. She called the super, who met her when she got home and let her in.
– A woman on the first floor wanted to convert a huge closet into a tiny office. The super built a desk and shelves that fit perfectly.
Get the picture?
Before buying, ask other owners in the building about the management company-if there is one-and about the person you’ll depend on for more than you’ll know. Also, check what areas you must fix and what areas the management company handles.
Unnatural disasters
Special assessments can happen to you, too.
I never really believed these additional payments could come out of nowhere. Theoretically I knew it could happen, but I didn’t bother putting away any rainy-day money. Then the boiler exploded, or whatever boilers do. Slam. Special assessment.
What I learned from this is that getting yourself on the condo association board (I’m the secretary) is like being your own alderman. You decide what gets fixed and when, you know what extra goodies are coming down the pike-like new radiator caps-and, most importantly, you get to decide when to have the special assessments, or extra monthly payments.
Only a handful of “unit owners” showed up at our meeting, so the motivated few got to decide when to take the extra financial hits.
That’s the advantage of being in a building full of apathetic, lint-leaving, newspaper-stealing yuppies.
As your own alderman, you also have access to the mayor, who, in my case, is the longtime condo board president. She knows everyone and everything. She picks up the phone to report a leak, and the management company sends someone out. So when my hallway ceiling spouted a leak, I called Madame Prez, who called the management company, which immediately sent over a representative.
However, I still can’t figure out why my sink gurgles in full sentences.
Stop, thief!
This newspaper situation has gotten completely out of control. My entire name is spelled out in huge black letters on the rain-proof blue plastic bag that contains MY newspaper. It’s got my name on it. What part of this don’t people understand?
It kills me. Somewhere in my building sits some slicked-back, consultant-lawyer-financial-type, freshly showered after a spin on the NordicTrack, sipping Starbucks French Roast at his Scandinavian Design teak wood table READING MY NEWSPAPER!
Yes, I’m assuming the thief is a man. (I bet it’s the same schmo who can’t be bothered to remove the lint from the dryer and whose mountain bike collection takes up storage space.)
What’s worse, there’s also some guy in the building who gets the New York Times, and he goes weeks without picking it up. Each day the stack gets higher and higher. But does anyone touch his newspaper-his newspaper that he pays three times more for but never reads? Nope. But if I don’t get my paper before 7 a.m., forget it.
The break-in
We recently had the first break-in since I’ve lived in the building. I hate to blame the victim, but it was our fault. If you prop open the door, then make a quick run to the dry cleaners, a bad guy might take it as an invitation.
That’s another thing. Ask to meet neighbors before you buy a place, especially the folks above and below you. I found out the week I moved in that the guy in the unit below me was home all the time playing his guitar. Thankfully, strums quiet, soothing folk songs. However, he could have been some Wayne’s World flunkie playing Aerosmith all night. Again, I got lucky. Should have asked.
Sex
Sex unifies people. Not the people having it, but the neighbors forced to listen to it. In fact, the few conversations I actually have had with my neighbors have been about sex.
For the first week no one noticed anything different except another name on one of the mail boxes. Then it started.
For the next six weeks our side of the building was abuzz. “Abuzz,” in my building means, of course, I met a few neighbors, we compared notes, giggled, then scurried back behind our doors.
Then suddenly, silence. Not a peep, not a stir.
“Should we call the police?” I asked.
“What if they had heart attacks?” one guy suggested.
Nah. Turns out they got married.
