Much To My Delight

Much To My Delight


The Problem with Bias

 

Owning a two-family home is a very strange thing. There’s part of your house you never see, that you’re not allowed to enter, like your fancy friend’s piano room where they had all the breakable stuff and white upholstery. When it’s filled with tenants (which we always want it to be!), you wonder how it’s doing. How’s it decorated? Does the radiator make too much noise? Are they happy here? Has anyone punched a hole in the wall recently?

In January, our very first tenants moved out. They were great neighbors and we were sad to see them go. They were a Muslim family who owned hookah bars on a nearby street lined with Middle Eastern businesses. When they signed the lease in 2016, we had no idea the wife was already several months pregnant. I learned that a month or two later when I saw her taking out the trash with unshaven legs and a huge belly. Let’s just be honest– Vin and I were not happy about it.

Anyone who’s ever ridden in an airplane or lived in an apartment has worried about being disrupted by a constantly crying baby. The wife was due in December, so we enjoyed our last wail-free months as though we were expecting a baby of our own. Then the baby came on Christmas Day and was the most beautiful child I’d ever seen. His eyelashes curled up to his forehead and his full jet black hair laid across his tiny head like a rug. His parents carried him into the doorway of his first home– our home– and soon after, all (ok, most) of my fears about living below a baby went away. Obviously we heard him crying from time to time, but it didn’t disrupt my life and truthfully, his parents made more noise than he did. On warm evenings when I sat out front,  the older brother or father would sometimes prop the baby in my lap for a few minutes if they were coming in or out. There was something really sweet about having a family living above us. It gave our house warmth, and it made the street feel more neighborhoody. (I know that’s not a real word, but people use it all the time, so I’m taking liberties).

Sometimes I really like being wrong.

When our tenants told us they were leaving for a bigger space, my hope was that another family would occupy the space, or at the very least, another couple. Families and couples tend to plant roots longer than roommates, and we didn’t want to have to continuously look for tenants. There’s only so much touch-up painting I can do before I start to lose my spirits and good humor.

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For three weekends straight, we lined up showings with various pairings of couples, friends and siblings. We met two dancers trying to get their big break in the city and several sets of young lovebirds looking for their first shared apartment. One couple was only weeks away from their wedding; another was nervously expecting their first baby. Their families came from Spain, Serbia, Italy, India, Puerto Rico. One woman was even from Texas. Meeting prospective tenants was fun. It’s really nice to get to know people in your neighborhood without having to leave the house.

My top draft choice was a couple (he Muslim, she Mexican) with a little baby girl named Valentina. They were sweet, kind of quiet, and if I’m being honest, the idea of keeping our famously multicultural neighborhood diverse will always appeal to us in a major way. (*Clearly, we have no control over who actually applies to live here, and choosing or rejecting someone based on their ethnicity is total housing discrimination– just sayin’).

They kept calling us and asking questions; they wanted to know how many other people had inquired about renting the apartment, when the move-in date would be, what the school situation looked like. I was pretty sure we had found our tenants and new neighbors, and felt great relief. But then they ended up getting a place closer to the wife’s job. I was totally bummed. I’d just gotten over my fear of living below a house filled with children, and then none of them apply to live here.

Want to know who did?

THREE different sets of very young, white, male roommates.

I started picturing stacks of empty, grease-stained pizza boxes and dishes piled to the top of an overflowing sink. I thought of the marble floor in the bathroom covered in misdirected pee. I thought of noisy Friday nights with two drunk dudes stumbling up the stairwell that runs over my head. Our old neighbors grilled sheep in our driveway for Eid al Adha; I pictured the new tenants asking to borrow our folding table so they could set it up for beer pong.

I thought back to all the young white dudes I knew in my early 20s. The ones who funneled beer and belched the alphabet. The ones who asked me out and never called again. I’d had some unsavory experiences with young white guys. Never once did I consider the good experiences with young white guys (like, ummm, marrying one?). That’s how bias starts, right?

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Ultimately, we found our tenants– two 23-year-olds straight out of college, just starting their very first jobs in the big city. I was sick with the flu the day they saw the apartment, and had no idea what to expect. On move-in day, two sets of parents pulled up front and helped them move in a few humble pieces of hand-me-down furniture and cheap rugs. It was like day one at the college dorm. I kept expecting someone to drag in a lava lamp or a giant Pulp Fiction poster, but then remembered it was 2018.

After they’d settled in a bit, I went upstairs to introduce myself to our new tenants and their parents.

I saw their faces and my whole attitude switched. They looked so young, like kids. They were born the year I graduated high school. They’ve barely squeaked their way into the millennial generation. Suddenly I found my attitude toward them softening. I felt oddly protective of them, like a big sister or den mother. Once their parents drove away I found myself wanting to make sure they had sufficient blankets and nourishing snacks. As Vin and I ate dinner I wondered if I should ask them to come down and join us. They hadn’t gone out or ordered takeout, and I began to grow concerned. Why had I been so afraid of these two?

They’ve been upstairs for two months, and I have to admit– they are delightful people and fabulous tenants. They are incredibly studious and hard-working, responsible and respectful. They work out at 6am before going to the office and keep their TV at a reasonable volume. They do their partying outside the house. There is no screaming or stomping or yelling happening upstairs. They lock all the doors and separate the trash. On Sundays, they sit out front and read in the sun, just like me. They venmo the rent to us a day before it’s due. Two weeks ago they rang our doorbell and gifted us a bottle of wine to say thank you. I find myself hoping they will sign the lease for another year or two. Everyone warned us about becoming landlords, and how hard it would be to find good tenants. I was really worried that young guys would be a terrible fit, but the truth is, you never really know what people are like until you take the time to know them.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, sometimes I really like being wrong.

Jenn P.

30-something psychotherapist. Loves cooking, hosting parties, exploring new places. Texan by birth. New Yorker by choice. Likes to tell little stories. Pull up a chair; I'll tell you one.

  • Katherine Walsh
    Sweet story. I was reading this I guess more from the perspective of a renter since I am one. Currently living beneath a family with a terrible two year old. It is everything you feared! Boom, boom, boom – she runs everywhere seemingly from the moment her little feet hit the floor. I really do love kids, but living below them, not so much. I hear her wailing and screaming and then running again. Our lease ends soon, I hate to move, but I don’t think I can stay in my beautiful apartment.
    • http://muchtomydelight.com/ Jenn from much to my delight
      That really stinks! It’s so hard with shared walls/floors. Our tenants are actually having complaints about the kids next door; they can hear them crying in the middle of the night. The baby above us was only a year old when they moved out, so perhaps we missed some of the bustling toddler phase and have a limited perspective. Eek. I hope you find a good fit!!
  • vanessac225
    Hi Jenn! Catching up on your latest post, wonderful as always! Wanted to say again it was so lovely meeting you and your friends the other day at the “garage” sale. It really IS so nice getting to know the people in your neighborhood, and meeting someone whose writing I enjoy really made my day! Have a great day, friendly neighbor :) Can’t wait for the next post.
    • http://muchtomydelight.com/ Jenn from much to my delight
      Hello neighbor!! Vanessa, you have no idea how you made MY DAY this weekend! I was completely obnoxious after our exchange– you made me feel very famous and I told everyone about it. Hope to run into you on the block!! I love meeting my neighbors; it’s a great little area!