Housing Horrors

I’m happy to report that I’m currently writing this blog from my new apartment in New Jersey, after I nearly became a homeless shoe-hoarder who relocated to the area just so she could make it to her first day of work.

As you probably guessed, planning this out-of-state move was anything but smooth-sailing. Most of the time, it was an absolute nightmare.

Not even 24 hours after returning home from my interview in April, I began the dreaded apartment search….remotely.

Easier said than done.

I had no idea what to expect. I was provided with a useful relocation guide from my employer, which provided details about many of the surrounding neighborhoods, but I decided to be brave and venture to Craigslist with the ignorant hope of finding the “perfect” housing situation.

I quickly learned that most apartment listings on Craigslist deserved a face palm. Many had no pictures, no information on the current roommates, no mention of gender…The list goes on and on.

How was I supposed to know that this wasn’t some creepy, 50-year-old, male pervert looking to share a bed? (Believe it or not, most people looking to share a bed were pretty honest about it in their posting. Go figure).

When something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Apparently vacant rooms in New Jersey/NYC are snatched up like free candy.

I spent many days glued to my laptop from dawn to dusk, obsessively checking Craigslist and my email inbox for any responses.

The responses I did receive were usually from individuals who weren’t an adequate fit as a roommate.

Needless to say, less than a week after the interview, I was sick to my stomach from stress. I was so worried that I was going to lose this great job offer just because I couldn’t find a place to live. I gladly would’ve lived in a cardboard box if necessary.

That’s when my parents and I decided, “enough is enough.” After reaching our wit’s end, I called a real estate broker from an agency mentioned in my relocation packet, practically begging him for help in finding me a place of permanent residence.

And in just three days, I found a place and signed a lease. Remotely.

It can be done.

That being said, I had no way to actually see my apartment until move-in. Yes, it was a risk and goes against everything people tell you to do before signing a lease, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So when I walked into my apartment in Union City for the first time a few weeks later, it was like opening up a Christmas gift from Santa. I was without a doubt surprised and, despite a few minor issues, very pleased.

The view of Manhattan is amazing, it’s bigger than I expected and I love all of the furniture/ accessories my parents bought for me throughout the years for the place.

It may be a fifth-floor walk-up, but it’s worth it.

The Interview

I can finally breathe.

After four months of nothing but vomit-inducing stress I have finally made it to the end of the job-search tunnel.

Hallelujah.

Less than a week after my last update I was contacted again by First for Women, the national magazine located at Bauer Publishing in Englewood Cliffs, NJ. They told me that they had decided to hire a more qualified candidate for the position who was already located in the area.

However, they also said they were considering hiring a second editorial assistant and wanted to meet me in person.

I knew that if I didn’t find a way to get there for an interview, I’d always wonder what could have been.

Thank God I have incredibly supportive and helpful parents who were willing to figure out a way to get me to New Jersey in only a week.

If we had been willing to sell a couple of kidneys, flying non-stop to NJ certainly would have been the quickest option. Unfortunately, we were not afforded that luxury and decided it would save us a lot of money to travel by car.

Those who know me well know I like freeway driving about as much as I like being pricked with a needle. There was no way I was going to be driving seven hours across the mountainous nightmare known as Pennsylvania, so my Dad offered to be the chauffeur and the two of us hopped into his van for the monotonous trek to NJ.*

*(My mom certainly didn’t want to stay behind, but unfortunately our animal situation at home prevents the three of us from making overnight visits together.)

I won’t bore you with the mundane, insignificant details of the trip so instead I will skip to the part that I am still convinced I dreamt.

I walked into my interview with a glimmer of hope based on the sole fact that it was April 23. Call me crazy, but I knew being the 23^rd, the odds had to be in my favor (23 is both my birthdate and lucky number).

I could tell early into the interview that this wasn’t the typical “interview” I was expecting. I was being asked about my interests (specifically in the field of journalism) and was convinced that I was rambling about something that was going to make me sound like an incompetent moron.

I was also convinced that I was giving them the “wrong” answer. I had no idea what they wanted to hear from me and figured I would say something that made them question why they invited me there in the first place.

That wasn’t the case.

By some stroke of luck, they were so impressed with my edit test that they still wanted to offer me a job after filling the previous position. I was being asked about my interests to determine the details of what I would be doing for them as an editorial assistant.

I couldn’t believe it.

My head was spinning, I had butterflies in my stomach and I was probably grinning like a goofy idiot. It all just seemed too good to be true.

I’ll be working at a national magazine and living/working just minutes from New York City. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect start to my career. I’m very lucky.

I tried my best to be nonchalant when I returned to the van, where my dad just so happened to be on the phone with my mom.

It didn’t work.

I was so ecstatic that I’m surprised I managed to avoid spewing incoherent nonsense about what had just unfolded during the previous hour. It was like telling them I had won the lottery.

After I shared the good news with both of my parents, my dad and I decided to hop back on the road for the long trip home.

I felt so relieved to have been offered a job that I didn’t even think about the next step, one that would prove to be more stressful than I would have ever imagined.

Relocation.

To be continued…